#3) it had been set up for weeks or months or years at that point so the drama and stakes were v high | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lollixp0p · 3 months

Text

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!!

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #dividers by cafekitsune

2K notes · View notes

spicysourchimken · 8 months

Text

Danny and Constantine's completely regular road trip

So I've had this fic idea rolling around my brain for about 3 months and I've decided to finally set it free into the ether (I have it mostly planned, about 9 of the 18 or so chapters). Its mostly because my energy has been down the drain

Constantine hears word of a new occultist practising some very advanced magic out in the US, he decides to investigate. It's not for league business, it's solely because he's annoyed someone is encroaching on his area of expertise (and also may or may not be a demon, but that's less of a concern for him)

Cue Constantine dropping in on Danny, who is about to preform an exorcism. Alone. And is a child. The two proceed to bicker where Constantine takes care of the problem himself, leaving Danny in the dust

Now 18 year old Danny Fenton, vigilante turned occultist is out for revenge. He rocks up to Constantine's next gig and handles it for him

Let's just say Danny isn't exactly thrilled when he realises its Constantine whose been screwing with him

And so goes the fic, two idiots following eachother around trying to sabotage eachother and get the job done before the other even has a chance

Constantine magically locks doors, Danny freezes things shut. Stealing things, purposefully messing up the others work. Dumb hijinks

At some point Danny loses his car and ends up (with the help of the sentient car) hiding in the trunk of Constantine's and getting away with it for at least a week

So now they're stuck together as they begin taking care of the supernatural goings on across the US.

Constantine and Danny are rivals to friends to father son dynamic

(Also yes I am Aware that this is essentially just supernatural but with a dp x dc coat of paint. It haunts me)

#dp x dc au #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc

2K notes · View notes

tojipie · 6 months

Note

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

2K notes · View notes

maddestmewmew · 2 years

Text

i think the most autistic thing abt me is that i genuinely and literally always get the exact same thing if i go to a restaurant more than once. ihop is one of my favorite restaurants. never since i was like 7 have i ordered ANYTHING other than a new york cheesecake pancake combo with scrambled eggs fruit on the side and a strawberry splasher. they took strawberry splashers off the menu and i started asking for sprite and bringing my own strawberry syrup to mix in. im dead serious

#this is worse to hear when you know yhete was a point in time where my mom and i went to ihop once a week for like 3 years #im turning 17 in a month were coming up on 10 years of this #and this is EVERYWHERE i go i have to get yhe same thing Every Time #if they take it off the menu or change the recipe? if i cant do anything to replicate it i just stop going there. full stop.#arbys took their veggie wrap off the menu a few years back. i havent been there since #my mom tried to grt me to order ANYTHING else from ihop and i had a straight up panic attack and she hasnt ever asked me since #not to say im against trying anything new i Love trying new things !! but if i have a Set Meal i CANNOT change it thats how i Work.

1 note · View note

hysterotic · 26 days

Text

𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹 ✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑨𝑱𝑰 𝑲𝑬𝑰𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑬

𝑺𝑯𝑬’𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹,

𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑵𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝒀, 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻’𝑺 𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑬

baji’s placed under house-arrest after setting a cop car on fire and prior to that his mom cut off the internet as punishment, he thought it was gonna be a torturous 3 months until he finds a new source of entertainment through stalking the new girl next door, who turns out to be a former pornstar?

⤷ disturbia (2007) the girl next door (2004)

⚠︎ : stalker themes but not really, usage of weed, college!au, non-consensual filming (at first), 80% plot 20% porn, unprotected sex, baji is mean and naaaasty, breeding kink, gag kink, face slapping (once), pussy slapping, he records you two fuckinnnn

proofread by my sexy bf & my bsf who were BOTH high when they read this so if this is shitty blame them lmao

one week of house arrest almost drove him crazy. actually, almost is an understatement; he had completely lost his mind.

the judge did cut him a break by making it a 3 month house arrest instead of 2 years in jail due to his constant arson, all thanks to his mom pulling a few strings, insisting that “it’s technically not aggravated arson” and “wouldn’t do any harm, he’s just a bit impulsive”.

but at this point, he would rather do time than be facing her wrath.

he tried to cheat the ankle monitor’s alarms a couple times, thinking he could just walk out the house like he did once before when he was under house arrest, forgetting that the only reason why they let him go in the first place is because they didn’t strap an ankle monitor on him, since he was just a teen at the time.

the number of times baji was handcuffed this week had cops expecting a call about him almost everyday; sometimes, they didn’t even bother to pick up at all.

hell, this is christmas to criminals. they have their chance to do whatever their hearts desire now without worrying about authorities, all thanks to baji keisuke.

but lately? he’s been leeching off of kazutora, calling him two to three times a day.

“kazutora, you have no fuckin’ idea how much this thing itches.”

kazutora could hear baji shuffling around on his bed, even though he couldn’t see him, he knew he’s elbow deep in some bag of chips.

baji continues to speak with a mouthful, “plus my mom fuckin’ transformed, she’s a dictator now. she took my goddamn xbox– can’t even watch no TV. i’m losing it, i’m losin’ my mind just give me any information anythin’ at all what’s goin’ on out there?”

he could hear kazutora walking outside from the cars driving by and the wind blowing against the speaker, making his voice barely audible. “just say you want us to come over, you don’t gotta complain’ in my ear all the time.”

baji shoves another handful of chips in his mouth, “come over?” he looks around his hellhole of a room. “seriously?” he starts scratching the ankle monitor aggressively and running his fingers under the band.

he hears more shuffling from the speaker, as if someone had grabbed the phone from kazutora, “it’s been almost two weeks, and you didn’t miss any of our faces? i’m hurt, keisuke.” ryousei says, his voice filled with theatrical passion and intensity, he could sense him posing with his hand on his chest dramatically.

baji rolls his eyes, “you guys comin’ or what?”

he could hear another voice coming through the phone, he couldn’t make out what they said since they were heavily inaudible.

“who else is with you-“ baji questions before kazutora quickly cuts him off, “we’re almost there gotta go byeeee”

and with that, kazutora hangs up.

he clicks his tongue, throwing the phone across the room and falling back onto the bed.

no way is he gonna handle being at home for the entirety of summer break, especially since his mom decided to take away every little thing remotely entertaining in the name of “learning his lesson” and to “quit being involved with hoodlums.” as if that’s not making him want to get twice as violent–

a slight jingle interrupts his train of thought.

he furrows his brows at the sound, sticking his head up to look around his room for the source. his eyes land on a long, fluffy black tail trotting around the area where he threw the phone. he sits up seeing the rest of it’s body, catching it playfully pawing at the phone.

baji’s brows twitch, confused about how the cat managed to climb up to his room. he stands up from the bed, slowly walking towards it, “how’d y’get in here.. huh?” he questions it softly.

the cat whips it’s head towards the voice, responding to his presence, it emits soft chirps and trills, immediately striding towards his legs, going in between them to rub itself on the ankle monitor. baji steps back, feeling something sharp against his ankle.

he hums curiously at the unusual feeling, noticing something shining on the cat’s neck, he couldn’t tell what it was from how fluffy the cat is.

he crouches down for a closer look, seeing that it’s wearing a small spiked black collar with a little skull charm in the front, he tilts the charm up and turns it around seeing “nightmare” engraved in the back.

“nightmare?” a subtle grin appears on his lips, he uses his finger to tilt its chin up so he can get a better look at the cat’s face. nightmare sniffs his finger and leans it’s cheek against his hand affectionately.

he gently scratches underneath it’s chin, watching it purr softly with contentment at his affections, until the voice of a girl who sounded like she was calling out for the cat disrupts the moment.

“nai-nai? where are youuu?” you call out, making kissing sounds as an attempt to lure the cat in. your voice gets louder and louder, getting closer to his house, almost as if you were irritatingly yelling by his window.

his lips curls down into a frown as he huffs in annoyance. the cat quickly hops on baji’s shoulder as he stands back up. he peers over the window, looking at you yelling around his house’s fence while he continues scratching nightmare’s cheek. he pauses, his irked expression calms as his eyes meet your distressed face.

the face he was met with threw him for a loop, how come he has never seen you before, “has she just moved in?”

he slowly walks closer to the window to get a better look of you.

beep beep beep

he looks in the direction the noise came from, seeing a big van moving backwards towards the house next door.

he glances at another car from behind after hearing the car doors opening and closing, though he can barely see because of the van blocking his view.

he glances back at you again, seeing you run towards the car, watching your short short skirt that barely covers your ass flow every step you take til you disappear out of view.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

“has anybody seen nightmare?” you ask your parents who were walking away from the van, carrying moving boxes.

your mom sighs, her voice laced with irritation, “didn’t i tell you to not let her out of the carrier while we’re moving?”

“but she needed to pee–“

“that’s your problem now. go help your siblings with the boxes; we don’t have all day.”

“i’m not gonna help until i find her!” you whine, following behind your mom into house.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

baji sighs disappointingly at the thought of returning the cat, slightly turning his head towards nightmare while still keeping his eye on the front door from where you disappeared. “guess y’gotta go home.. c’mon.” he gently picks her up with one hand and sets her on the window, watching her bolt towards the house next door.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

the moment you heard nightmare’s collar jingle, you ran outside, sighing with relief at the sight of her, baji could see your worries melt away from your body as you crouch to pick her up and hug her. he leans his arms atop the window frames, observing the scene quietly.

“where were you?” you coo, kissing her head, noticing that she has an unfamiliar scent clinging to her. “were you snooping in people’s houses?” you turn her body to face you so you could scold her, seeing that she was distracted, staring up at something. you assumed it was a bird until you followed her gaze, eyes locking with brown ones.

his big, muscled arms were visible for you to drool over, seeing his body leaned atop the window frame, staring down at you. you feel the intensity of his gaze as it raked itself up your form, eyes darting between you and the cat. the way he –basically— checked you out made your head spin, making you weak in the knees.

he looked tall, and strong. you could see his big shoulders bulging out of his wife beater, with a couple of black rings on his hand too. and that long, jet black hair.. the cross layered necklace he was wearing.. is he seriously your new neighbor?

“good taste, nai.” you whisper in her ear as she purrs in your arms, you hesitantly bring your hand up to wave at him with a gentle smile. he nods his head at you, seemingly distracted by his thoughts.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

It’s an insignificant interaction; he was just greeting his new neighbor, and yet something about you had his body growing hot in a way he’s never felt before, he didn’t wanna take his eyes off of you; he nearly gets lost in a trance until he hears the ringing sound of his doorbell, crushing the tension.

he clicks his tongue, pushing himself off the window frame, looking back to where the front door is, contemplating if he should answer it or not, he slowly turns his head back to look at you again, staring at your figure that is now walking away, slowly growing smaller the farther you go, walking back inside the house.

he keeps his eyes glued to your front door, hoping that you’d come out, maybe flash him that smile again. at this point, he might even kidnap the cat just to get you to come out once more–

ding dong ding dong

the doorbell rings again, annoyingly on repeat this time.

“fucking hell, i’m comin’ i’m comin..” he quickly runs downstairs towards the front door, yanking it open irritably. his eyes are met by none other than dumb, dumber and dumbest.

“damn, you really are going through it.” ryusei greets, chuckling at baji’s disheveled look. his amusement gets cut off by chifuyu elbowing him in his stomach, wincing in pain.

kazutora walks in between the two and pushes the zip to baji’s chest, brushing past him to walk up the stairs.

baji quickly shoves it in his pocket in a panic, “don’t be openly showin’ that around! i got my mom up my ass enough.” he yells at kazutora.

“whatever! you down to roll one right now or what?” kazutora replies, completely ignoring him as he walks into baji’s room.

baji feels a pat on his shoulder, turning to face ryusei. “surprised you actually stayed home this time.” ryusei remarks, referring to the last house arrest he was in. ryusei starts walking up the stairs following behind kazutora.

he rolls his eyes and turns his head back at chifuyu, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“after kazutora told me about what happened, i felt bad leaving you be all alone, the gang misses you by the way.” chifuyu says with a smile.

a shy grin tugs at the corners of baji’s mouth, “c’mon. i’ll be fine; this ain’t a charity.” he says, turning his back towards the door, leaving it open, and walking up the stairs towards his room, with chifuyu following.

he locks the bedroom door behind him after finding kazutora on his bed, openly prepping to roll a joint, with a tray set, and ryusei sitting beside him with a remote, flicking through apple music tracks. kazutora sticks his hand out for baji to throw the zip.

“damn, she even locked apple music from you? how are you even alive right now.” ryusei mutters to himself.

baji reaches for his pocket and throws it at kazutora, “don’t be stinkin’ up my room with that; smoke out the window,” he says in a low, gravelly tone.

kazutora hums in response, continuing to pack a joint, “not worried about the cops who’re watchin’ over you seeing that from the window?” chifuyu questions.

“my mom s’worse.” he sits down on his gaming chair, leaning back, slowly rolling it towards the window where he last saw you.

he didn’t mean to stare at the house next door again; he did it subconsciously. it’s like there was something about you that pulled him in. he thought to himself; it’s none of my business, but he can’t help the need to be curious about what you were doing right now.

his eyes flick towards a figure on the room right across his. coincidentally, your room windows are aligned towards one another, he could see almost everything without trying, almost like it was there for him to look. he sees you digging through your suitcase, throwing your clothes around, searching for something.

you finally pull out a swimsuit and set it aside, you start to tug on the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly to reveal your bare back. you weren’t wearing a bra this entire time.

you seem unaware, and yet with the way your body moves, the way you smoothly took off your clothes, the way everything was perfectly angled, teasing him, it was like you knew he was watching, knew that he won’t be able to do shit with the annoying cuff on his ankle.

you walk out of your room with a swimsuit on and towel draped on your arm, disappearing from his sight. he rests his arm on the window sill, pinching his lip between two fingers, patiently waiting for your appearance again, his eyes darting between the metal band posters you already set around your room, the more he looks around, the more he learns about you.. the more intrigued he is.

a couple minutes later, his eyes flick at the back door, seeing you walk outside in your hot pink swimsuit, dipping your foot in the brand new pool, slightly shivering at how cold it is, you slowly start walking down into the water, trying to adjust to the temperature.

you begin swimming under, he sees glimpses of what looks like a tramp stamp and two bows exactly under your ass. he leans closer, trying to get a better look until he hears a loud, aggressive cough right by his ear.

he looks in his peripheral vision, seeing kazutora and ryusei smoking right behind him, with chifuyu crouched on the floor coughing, holding the back of baji’s chair for balance.

“did you even inhale it?” ryusei snickers at the sight of chifuyu struggling.

chifuyu stands up and spits out the window, clearing his throat. “that shit tastes disgusting, i’m not inhaling that!”

“quit pressurin’ him to smoke,” baji turns the chair around to face the two. “grab the wuss some beer- uh, redbull to get rid of the taste, i got a pack right there” he points with his finger, snatching the joint from kazutora in the process.

kazutora turns his head to the direction baji pointed at and walks towards it with ryusei following behind. baji spins the chair back to look at you once more and takes a puff, fully leaning against the window sill, seeing you still swimming. he seems to forget chifuyu’s still there until he hears him clear his throat, baji snaps his head to look at him.

“you know her?” chifuyu questions, raising his arm up to rest it against the wall, leaning his head on it.

baji shakes his head, putting the roach out. “she just moved in next door” he says after a few minutes of silence.

chifuyu forms an “o” with his mouth, he continues staring at you peacefully swimming then looking back at baji again. a mischievous smirk forms on his lips, “think she’s cute?”

“what the fuck, matsuno!”

“your staring at her too much, you’ve never done that with anybody!”

“so? doesn’t mean shit,” baji scoffs.

“who’re you two arguing about” kazutora pops up from behind, holding three bottles of beer and a can of redbull.

“nobody,” baji grumbles.

“nah, nah, nah—she’s not a nobody if she got baji drooling like this. he’s checking out his new neighbor.” chifuyu points at you with his chin.

baji's jaw clenched, crossing his arms irritatedly. kazutora pushes both of them aside to get a better look at you, he mutters, “hold on,” and turns around, walking towards baji’s drawers, looking through them and finally pulling out old, dusty binoculars.

“this is getting fucking creepy,” baji mumbles lowly.

“what is?” ryusei raises a brow, looking from chifuyu’s shoulders, catching you in his eyesight.

kazutora blows the dust away from the lenses, placing the binoculars on his eyes and pointing them at you, he walks closer to the window. his sight reaches your tramp stamp, “huh.. that tattoo looks familiar.”

“let me see, give me that,” ryusei snatches the binoculars from kazutora, he points the lenses towards your tramp stamp, taking a sip of his drink, seemingly deep in thought.

“you don’t think that’s…”

“no fuckin’ way…”

baji’s brows jump. “what? spit it out,” waiting for them to elaborate.

it finally hits them, literally.

ryusei almost chokes on his drink from kazutora’s continuous smacking on his back. “i know that tattoo—that’s that one pornstar! damn, what was her name?” he starts snapping his fingers, trying to jog his memory.

baji’s eyes almost burst out of his skull “HUH?!” baji and chifuyu said in unison. “how many pornos you gotta consume to identify a pornstar based on some tattoo? you fuckin’ fiends,” baji grimaces with disgust.

“i knew it,” ryusei said under his breath, walking back, looking around baji’s room trying to search for something. “you got a camera keisuke?”

“fuck you need that for?” baji spat.

ryusei pulls an old camcorder out from the top of his closet, “let’s get her to smile for the camera. that’ll show you, ponstars are naturals like that.” he walks up towards the window and hits record, slowly zooming in to get a close-up of you. “there’s the star,” he sultrily whispers

his filming was quickly interrupted by baji’s hand covering the lenses. “quit bein’ a creep! turn that off.” he shoves the camera away. “she just moved in your gonna freak her out,” chifuyu says, trying to take the camcorder out of ryusei’s grip until he puts his arm up out of chifuyu’s reach.

kazutora steps in between, backing up ryusei who continued to film you, “hell no this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! you got the chance to live next door to a goddamn pornstar” he said poking baji’s chest with a pointer finger.

baji swats his hand away, clicking his tongue as he sits back down on his gaming chair and pushes it away from the window with his leg, making sure he’s not in your sight when you catch them being stalkers.

“i don’t even know why he got that chance.” ryusei mumbles, zooming in on your figure, licking his lips, feeling baji’s glare burning a hole into the back of his head.

“huh, come to think of it.. i’ve never seen baji even look in the direction of a girl,” chifuyu says to himself, rubbing his chin deep in thought.

“and how do you know that? you stalkin’ me and keepin’ track of who i look at?” baji says bluntly

“i’m not the one who was ogling the girl!” chifuyu bites back.

“i’m seriously gonna kill you.” he jumps at chifuyu, accidentally bumping into ryusei, pushing him to fall forward into the window sill, causing him to flip over and fall out into the bushes.

you jerk your head at the sudden sound, seeing three men peering down into the bushes and then to you, meeting eyes with that raven-haired hunk again. your eyes wander to his friends and see binoculars in one of their hands. were they creeping on you swimming?

they immediately duck, their backs against the wall under the window.

“you two are jackasses, genuine jackasses.” baji says through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose, kazutora cackles and claps as if he’s seen the funniest thing ever.

“us two?! your the one who pushed ryusei out of the window!” chifuyu whisper screams before kazutora quickly smacks him on the head.

chifuyu looks back at kazutora in shock, seeing him holding a finger against his lip shushing him, he slowly stands up to peer out the window to see if you’re still staring at them.

he sees you swimming towards the stairs, watching you walk out while squeezing the water out of your hair, you feel somebody stare at you and you turn your head towards the window again.

he quickly sits back down, “yeah, she just saw me” he says, laughing in between.

chifuyu scoffs, now standing up to peek his head out to check for himself. his eyes dart around the swimming pool area, looking for you. he straightens himself up and peers down to check on ryusei, finding him gone too.

he looks back at both of them, lips pressed into a thin line. “i can’t find neither her nor ryusei.” he says, shaking his head, walking away from the window to pace around the room in a panic, already assuming the worst. the weed paranoia is getting to him already and he barely smoked.

“fuck you mean ryusei’s gone?” baji questions, he stands up to check, finding nobody there. shit.

“maybe she just went inside, no big deal!” chifuyu says nervously.

baji sighs, “yeah, ‘cause she caught you three stalkin’ her like a bunch of creeps.. now she’s gonna think her neighbors are perverts,” he mumbles, leaning against the wall.

before chifuyu and kazutora had the chance to react at baji’s hypocrisy, the doorbell rings.

“is that him?” kazutora runs to the front door window to check until chifuyu yanks his arm back away from the door before anyone sees him, “what if it’s her?“

“so? not like we can pretend we’re not home” baji points at his ankle monitor with his eyes and starts walking towards the door.

baji didn’t suspect a single thing, he wasn’t even nervous at the idea of you being the one ringing the doorbell, it’s just some girl, he thinks. so why is he frozen in place at the sight of you, drenched, wearing a skin-tight black button-up top with shorts underneath, practically swallowing your ass and thighs, a weak attempt to “cover up”, once again, being a fucking tease.

“i’m all wet.. can i come in?” your tone oozing with seductive intent.

chifuyu and kazutora pop out from behind baji, catching the scene. chifuyu looks at your form and then at baji repeatedly with a confused look. the sight looked like a skit from a porno. you truly are a natural.

baji’s hard-on was unfortunately stepped on when he sees ryusei pop out from the side with a camera, laughing hysterically at the scene that unfolded, clearly, this was all planned to be a prank. and yet, baji seems unfazed by it. he’s barely even listening at the three, mind drifting elsewhere, lingering over the idea of you genuinely being a pornstar, he can’t get the moment out of his head.

he kept his eyes on you, watching you giggle at the two arguing and yelling at ryusei for the prank he pulled. all baji was thinking about was how sweet and innocent your smile looked compared to your former lifestyle, how your strawberry pink lipgloss was glistening perfectly with your glittery skin that came from your sunscreen, how your shirt was unbuttoned at the top perfectly exposing your breasts– the hot pink bikini you were wearing, yeah.. that’s totally what he meant.

you hugged your form from the cold breeze, unknowingly making your tits look appealing. god, if he was a casting director for porn, he would hire you in an instant with him in it. a true succubus in the flesh.

ryusei blocks baji’s view of you with his camcorder, cackling in a way that grated on baji’s nerves, “you should’ve seen your face, keisuke,” he ends the video and fiddles with the camera to watch it again. “you don’t mind if she smokes with us right guys? she got locked out” he grins infuriatingly wide, finding amusement in torturing the raven haired man.

“yeah for sure, she can smoke with us, right baji?” kazutora speaks without a thought.

baji’s stare lingers on your form once more, especially the little cute ribbons that are peeking out of your shorts, holding your bikini bottoms against your hips before quickly breaking it away to speak.

“whatever.” he says nonchalantly. he moves out of the way, walking up to his room without another word.

you slightly pout at the interaction, you hoped you’d get the chance to talk to him more since your closer now, that’s the only reason why you even agreed to ryusei’s little prank. it was so worth the reaction though. you’ve had many eyes on you and your used to it by now but this is the first time you’ve felt a magnetic pull that ignited a flicker of excitement within you just from being checked out, especially the way he did.

it was a challenge trying not to stutter after seeing him opening the door, his wife beater hugging his form so deliciously, his exposed big shoulders that his long hair couldn’t cover had you drooling, and grey sweatpants too? he’s such a gorgeous man and he doesn’t even know it.

“don’t worry about him; he’s always like that,” kazutora comforts, gesturing his head inside, inviting you in properly. a slight jingle sound from his earring. “come on in, after you.”

“such a gentleman” you fawned, brushing beside him to walk up the stairs with the three behind, finally reaching baji’s room.

“you got locked out? you, uh, need to call someone?” chifuyu says, a note of concern evident in his tone. avoiding eye contact, trying his best to ignore your.. look.

“i’d rather stay stranded if you don’t mind..” you smile nervously, shoving your hands in your back pocket to avoid fidgeting.

you look around, checking out his hot mess of a room, he’s sitting on his gaming chair, staring at the cat who’s sitting on the window sill, actually, that looks like nightmare!

“how did you get in here?” you murmur lovingly, slowly walking towards the window, bending over to pet her, unknowingly having your ass directly infront of baji, yeah, no doubt. your most definitely teasing. and he’s not falling for it. he kicks his chair back a bit to hit the wall so he can face the cat more.

your eyes flick up towards your window seeing how it’s aligned so perfectly with his, you look down finding nightmare pawing at the binoculars.

you grab it, looking through the lenses and directing it towards baji, “sorry about her; she likes to explore sometimes, especially when it comes to our neighbors.” you tilt the binoculars down a bit to look at him better.

“no worries, cats’re usually like that with me” he says, his voice carrying a husky undertone.

cats love him too? can he get any hotter?

you both sit in silence for a bit until you feel smoke being blown directly on your cheek. you turn, now facing the guy with the tiger tatted on his neck. “here,” he hands you the joint, “you two can smoke, the three of us might play some video games.” kazutora fabricates, he stuffs his hand in his jacket pockets, “you don’t happen to have wifi, do you? ours got cut off.”

you take a puff, blowing it out the window. “of course, here.”

you connect them to your wifi, and kazutora uses it to his own advantage, putting it into baji’s computer. he sits on the bed with chifuyu and ryusei next to him, he opens up a porn site and starts searching for titles he remembers you being in.

he clicks on the first video that pops up and mutes the volume. you mostly did POV videos since it’s what you were mostly known for, hundreds of videos of you bent over, teasing the camera, every POV theme, you did.

you hand baji the joint, a wave of embarrassment takes over, now noticing how soaking wet you were,

“uhm, where’s the bathroom? i need to dry up.. or at least attempt to,” you nervously laugh.

“down the hall to the left” he rasps.

you walk out of the room, feeling baji’s eyes glued to your back as you went to where he directed.

“damn, is this your girl, keisuke?” ryusei teases, watching videos of you plastering your pussy on the internet. “quit it, she’s not my girl.” baji responds with an edge to his voice, continuing to pet nightmare, who’s now laying on his lap with her stomach up.

“not even curious enough to look?” kazutora questions, his head is facing baji, but his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“'m not interested.” baji says with a monotone, knowing it was a flat-out lie, but he couldn’t give in, not yet, especially with you in the house.

chifuyu narrows his eyes at baji with suspicion, nobody knows how baji thinks like he does. he knows he’s not gonna bother asking them for the titles to watch privately, since he’s not gonna hear the end of it from kazutora and ryusei.

chifuyu makes sure kazutora didn’t put it in incognito mode and secretly moves the mouse to favorite the link for baji to check out later, glancing at kazutora and ryusei, hoping they didn’t notice.

you walk back into his room, who didn’t move his eyes away from nightmare the entire time you were gone, he lifts his head up to look at you, taking a long drag from the joint. you walk towards him to snatch the joint from his lips before he finishes it, you crouch down til your eye level with nightmare to pet her, who’s still on his lap. your current position not helping baji’s situation at all.

ryusei clears his throat, leaning back against the headboard, pretending he just didn’t see your entire naked body, head to toe, in every sex position ever created. “so, how’s the move going with you?”

you stand beside the window with your back facing it, you lean back slightly, placing your hand on the window sill for support, “still going..” you sigh, exhaling the smoke out, you quickly glance at baji, catching him with his head tilted upwards ever so slightly, fixated on you with unwavering intensity, his eyes conveying a sense of intrigue.

you immediately look away, breaking eye contact to hold back a smile.

“we’d help but, uh, one of us is a little spatially challenged at the moment” chifuyu points at baji’s ankle monitor with his chin.

“yeah i can tell, he got that whole lindsay lohan thing going on.”

“who?” baji questions, tilting his head as he gazed at you, the sun peeked through the window, streaming directly into his eyes, casting a warm glow over his face, he squints slightly, his eyebrows scrunching together, almost looking like he’s winking at you. his eyes are so intensely brown it’s driving you crazy.

you giggle handing baji the joint to smoke it, he pushes the chair closer towards you and places his foot on the wall right next to your thigh, trapping you between him. he takes a puff from your fingers. the coconut flavor of your lipgloss lingers on the joint, you would’ve thought he was messing with you until your eyes land on his hands, seeing that they’re a little occupied from nightmare playfully biting them.

“where’d you say you were from?” kazutora probes.

you tilted your head towards kazutora’s direction, still keeping eye-contact with baji as he continues playing with nightmare, watching the smoke curl out from his lips as he exhales. “i’m from the city!”

“the city?” he inquires.

you hum enthusiastically in response, “and now forcefully relocated..” you relax your back against the window sill, tilting your head back, letting the breeze hit your neck for a moment as the familiar sound of your mother’s voice reaches your ears, a shiver of fear creeps up your spine, tinged with the realization that you're in a place your definitely not supposed to be, especially since you snuck out without a word.

you jolt up and duck under the window, your head is now directly next to his foot, eye level at his ankle monitor, baji silently chuckles at you, watching his shoulders shake.

“could you come in here, please?”

you look back at the four, mouthing and pointing at the direction of the voice, “my mom”

baji offers a quiet “mm-hmm”, he peers out the window, looking at your mom who’s clearly staring directly at his window.

“yeah, she’s polite and always says please but she has that tone did you notice?” you say sarcastically, realizing that you're sitting on something. you sit up and find a blue marker right under you, taking the opportunity. you bite the lid off and carefully scribble your number onto the monitor that’s resting mere inches from your face, your hand trembles slightly as you add little hearts around and a cat resembling nightmare.

“uhuh, i know that tone” baji replies, you notice a knowing smirk in his tone.

the atmosphere crackles with anticipation as he watches your every move, his gaze lingering on you intently.

you finish off your scribbles on his cuff and place the lid back into the marker, “gotta go before she kills me..” you get up, dusting off your butt from the floor. you start walking towards the door, quickly saying your goodbyes, and run outside towards your mom

baji brings his leg up to his lap to check out the cuff, seeing your little cute doodles and your number in the middle, he bites back a smile hoping his friends don’t see, he leans back against the chair, pushing it closer to the window to watch you walk towards your front door with nightmare beside you.

it’s been a week since you moved in, since you came over and wrote your number on his cuff, since you became a tattoo in his mind, and he couldn’t control his urges any longer.

he thought he could ignore the fact that he’s neighbors with a goddamn former pornstar but you giving him a show every. damn. time, you undress has been nothing but hard on him, literally.

it’s no coincidence that everytime you undress you had your back facing towards the window, you do it so torturously slow and seductive, almost as if you were giving him a strip tease every night, you knew exactly what you were doing.

in rare occasions you’d catch him staring and he would play it casual, acting like he’s busy doing whatever he does. but sometimes it’s innocent and sweet, you’d catch him staring at you playing with nightmare or getting ready for bed, you’d give an innocent wave or a little nod and he’d do it back, it’s a cute interaction but it’s still not helping him avoid whatever’s in his search history.

and that’s exactly what he’s gonna be clicking on tonight.

he opens the tab, already overwhelmed by the amount of POV options he could choose from. he clicks on the last video you made, and by a freak coincidence; it’s the girl next door themed.

the video starts off with you giving your usual strip tease by the window, classic. baji leans closer to the laptop, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes flicking between your window and the laptop screen.

you reach for your panties, the camera zooms closer to your ass, catching you linking your fingers under the straps, tight around your hips, you slowly start to pull them down, then snap! the camera pans back to your face from your sudden movement, catching you looking directly at the camera, the camera-guy ducks down immediately at the sight, muttering “shit, shit, shit!” behind the camera.

after a couple seconds of him hiding he holds the camera up, checking to see if you’re still there, noticing that you’re nowhere to be seen in your room until he hears footsteps walking towards the house, he pans the camera down catching you walk towards his front door.

the doorbell starts ringing.

baji’s eyes flick towards your window again after seeing your lights turn on from his peripheral vision. seeing you throw yourself onto your bed seemingly exhausted doing god knows what.

disappearing out of his sight; he continues watching the video that was still going.

“i’ll delete the video if you suck my dick” said the camera man, your eyes lit up at the offer, already getting down on your knees to unzip his pants. you bite your lip with anticipation as you look up at him with glassy doe eyes, correction; looking at the camera lense. you jerk his pants down along with his boxers–

a fluffy feline silhouette appears, blocking the laptop screen with its presence, demanding attention with a gentle purr emanating from her throat.

“seriously nightmare? now?” he gently pushes her off the laptop, accidentally having her tap on the keys from his push, disrupting the video and making it skip to the part where you finally get fucked.

except, the volume was all the way up. filthy loud moans emitting from his laptop speakers, baji immediately shuts it in shame, and from behind the laptop screen it was you, looking directly at him with a walkie talkie in your hands.

you click on the button, “sounds like somebody’s got access to the internet again” holding back a giggle.

the sound of your voice come out from the walkie talkie on his table, seeing nightmare pawing at it, she must’ve brought it here and was trying to get his attention for it.

he grabs the walkie talkie and rolls the chair closer to the window, click, “you could say that.”

click, “what’re you watchin’?”

click, “a continuous of.. something we recorded.”

click, “we?”

he grabs the camcorder from his desk and replays the part where you teased him on his front door directly to the walkie talkie speaker.

click, you laugh at the humiliating sound of your own voice attempting to seduce the hunk next door, “oh my god i completely forgot about that!”

he tongues his inner cheek, emitting an amused scoff. click, “i didn’t.”

click, “what? you jack off to it every night?” you joke with a small laugh.

click, he licks his canines, a sly smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “maybe”

click, “don’t you got a girlfriend?”

click, “says who?”

click, “you look like a guy who would have a girlfriend”

click, he tuts “nah, i never had time.. why the sudden curiosity? y’want me or somethin’?”

you squirm in your seat, pulling up your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. click, “i didn’t mean it like that…”

click, he tilts his head slightly, leaning back against the chair. “c’mon.. be brave, just like how you were last week on my front door.” baji sways the chair side to side with his leg.

you peek your head out from your knees, resting your chin on it. click, “you’re just gonna keep bringing that up huh..”

click, “uhuh.”

click, “what did you mean by continuous by the way?” you say after a few minutes of silence.

you watch him spin his chair side by side as he ponders his answer for a bit, click, “c’mere and i’ll show you exactly what i meant.”

you bite your lip from his boldness, you didn’t expect that from him at all, then again, you didn’t expect him to be shy either, he looks like the type of guy that makes sure he gets what he wants and god does that thought make you throb.

click, “i can’t.. i’m sort of grounded for sneaking out, ever since we moved here mom’s been eyeing me like a hawk, why don’t you come here instead?”

he places his cuffed leg up on the window sill, indicating that he’s still in house arrest, you completely forgot that you’re neighbors with a criminal, another thought that has you throbbing.

click, “how’d you get that?”

click, “burnin’ a cop car for shits n giggles.”

click, “didn’t know i was neighbors with an anarchist.” you tease.

click, he mumbles “didn’t know i was neighbors with a pornstar but y’learn new shit everyday huh?”

click, “what?”

click, “don’t worry your pretty brain, gimme a sec.” he stands up from the chair and walks out of his room, disappearing from your sight, a couple minutes pass by and he comes back with a long ladder, placing it on his window and pushes it straight towards yours.

you lean your head out of the window from his action, “are you insane?! i’m not coming in like that!”

“what? too chicken shit?” he chuckles, successfully bridging the gap between your window and his. he pulls out the camcorder and clicks on the record button, panning the lenses towards you, “i’ll hold it just c’mere.”

you shake your head, incredulous. “you’re crazy–“

“you don’t trust me?” he persists, tilting his head, his gaze fixates on you with such intensity that has you breathless.

you sigh, rolling your head back. fuck it, you reluctantly step closer to the ladder. “if i break my neck it’s on you” you slowly start to climb the ladder towards him.

he grins, his eyes lingering on you, drinking in your reaction to the height as he watches you climb up with shaky hands.

he couldn’t resist fucking with you, captivated by the way your fear only seemed to enhance how gorgeous you are, he gently starts rocking the ladder back and forth, pretending to lose his grip.

you shriek, mixing with laughter, echoing in the quiet night, you bite back your screams trying to avoid your parents attention. “you fucking dickhead! stop!” your grip tightens.

“i don’t even think this fall is gonna break a neck i think it’s gonna kill me!” you whisper scream at him, laughter turning into nervous giggles.

he finds your determination cute, even after his little attempt to give you a heart attack, he relents, “alright i’ll behave, just get over here already.” he steadies the ladder.

you resume your ascent, curses punctuating the quiet of the night. you finally reach his window, breathless but wearing a triumphant grin, he offers you a hand, pulling him into his room with a subtle yet lingering touch.

you both stand face to face, the adrenaline from your little escapade still coursing through your veins, “didn’t know you had it in you.” he toys.

you roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder, “you’re an asshole you know that!” a hint of a smile plays at the corners of your lips, unable to suppress it.

he zooms the camera lense at your cheek, “yeah, think i made you cry a little bit” he teases, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

“shut up, it’s just the wind in my eye” you mutter, wiping at your cheek with the back of your hand.

“is that right?” his hand moves almost instinctively, gently cupping your cheek as he wipes the tear away with his thumb. his touch starts to linger, gaze fixating on your lips, slowly tracing his finger along your bottom lip.

you gasp softly, caught off guard by the sudden shift of the atmosphere, his touch intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine. instinctively, you lean into his touch, your tongue darting out to lick the lingering taste of your tears from his finger.

your eyes lock, lips slightly parting, taking in his thumb in your mouth as you start to suck on it.

he sighs, biting back his groan from emitting out of his throat, observing you from the camcorder as you suck on his thumb like a mindless whore, “uhuh, open that pretty mouth f’me.. all the way.” he flicks his eyes from the camera screen to look at you, you do as he says just from the look in his eyes, like a good girl would, he starts tracing his thumb around your tongue, thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth, prepping it for his cock that was already bulging out of his sweats.

“suck it just like that..” he says, drunkenly watching your eyes water as you gag around his fingers, he tuts, “already?” you whimper, drooling all over his fingers, “m’ i gonna have to prep that pussy too?” you shake your head, whining even more.

“c’mon baby, use your words.” he pinches your cheeks together smushing your face, your doe eyes flick down to his crotch before looking back up again, soft lips pushed out in a pout, you link your fingers down under at the band of his boxers, pulling him closer towards you.

his grip tightens on your cheek as he lifts your head up, the look on his face when he stares down at you makes you weak in the knees.

“you actually wet this time?” he teases, bringing up what happened last week yet again,

you tease back, “how about you touch me and find out?”

he lightly slaps your cheek shutting you up, making you yelp, rubbing your thighs together after he genuinely made your clit embarrassingly throb from the slap. his hand finds its place on your cheek again, “quit being a tease and do as i say princess” he mocks.

“what does that needy pussy want, huh?”

“wanna suck your dick.” the way you were acting so damn shy and obedient as if you weren’t whoring yourself out and plastering your pussy all over the internet makes his dick spring up in an instant.

“yeah?” he tilts his head, moving the camera away to admire you, the ends of his hair tickling your skin, you nod persistently, he grins wider, his canines poking out of his lips, his hand slides down your throat and grips around it, pulling you closer towards his face as he locks his lips with yours,

your plump coconut flavored lips kisses him back, groaning at your taste, remembering how he first tasted it when it was lingering on the joint. you deepen the kiss after feeling his grip tighten,

he pulls you closer towards his chest, making you stand on your tippy toes savoring the kiss, your hands rest atop his chest to tug on his shirt desperately, silently begging for more of him, his tongue licks at the bottom of your lips. finally breaking the kiss off to breathe, his spit string connected to your lips, your knees already growing weak from the small make out sesh as he grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it down forcing you on your knees, enough to make your pupils dilate at the subtle feeling of pain, he takes a mental note of your masochism and unlinks his sweats, sitting down on his chair, legs spread wide open for you to drool and gush over.

he points the camera towards you again, “what’re y’waitin’ for huh? suck what you’ve been beggin’ for.”

your fingers tremble with desire, squeezing your thighs together getting wetter and wetter from how deep his voice is, you curl your fingers under the boxer band and pull it down, freeing his thick fat dick out from it’s confinements, falling entranced with the bobbing of his cock that sprung upwards towards his stomach.

your hand reaches out to grab his cock, wrapping him around your delicate hand, slowly jerking him back and forth. your fingers aren’t even near touching from how thick he was, a fat flushed tip pooling with pre making you drool at the sight.

you part your lips, flattening your tongue around his tip, circling around it, toying with him– toying with his patience,

he rolls his head back holding in his groans as you bob your head up and down painfully slow, he snakes his fingers through your hair, grabbing a handful of it to push you down further, thrusting in your throat, back and forth. you moan on his dick, he grips onto the camcorder tight, your throat vibrations against it almost made him lose control, he yanks your hair pulling you back away from his dick, groaning at the loss of you.

saliva trailed from your mouth to his tip, making his dick twitch at the sight.

you teasingly kiss at the tip, giggling at his reaction as you quickly got up to walk over his bed, bending over, crawling towards the middle of it. you arch your back, ass up with your head down, you look back at him motioning him to walk over with your finger as you moved your hips back and forth.

he zooms the camcorder at your form, “there she is..” he slowly starts to walk over towards you, he grabs your hips, hooking onto your black lace shorts and tugging it back towards his crotch to grind on you, you arch against him, moaning at the friction of his hardened dick against your aching clit, pushing yourself back like a bitch in heat, “pretty fuckin’ sight, right there.”

he reaches his hand down, skimming up your thighs, spreading it apart more, the hand at your thigh slides up and cups your ass, pulling your shorts upwards to reveal the outline of your plush pussy, you silently thank god you were wearing black or you’d already have a visible wet spot.

you can’t help the blush that consumes your entire face, burying your face into his blanket from embarrassment, “stop teasing me..”

he hums in response, getting a close up of your outline on his camera, “i haven’t even seen your pussy and just from the outline of it.. jesus christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he says through gritted teeth as if he was straining to hold himself back from eating you,

he starts kissing your clothed clit, burying his sharp nose up the seam of your shorts. “need to taste you.” he rips off your shorts in a blink of an eye,

“w-wait-“ “i’ll buy you new ones baby, quit whinin’.’”

he pulls at the sides of your panties, letting them go to snap back against your pussy. you whimper at the sensation, greedily moving your hips against his finger trying to get him to touch you already. he tuts, moving his hand away making you miss his fingers, you feel a sharp smack against your ass, “be patient.”

he slowly starts pulling them off of you, you wish you weren’t so embarrassed from your position so you could look at his pretty face, it’s always what drove you crazy about him, feeling his eyes on you everytime you undress in-front of the window, of course you fucking did that on purpose, your neighbor is hot for god’s sakes! all you ever fantasized about was him, him, him.

and here he is, right in-between your legs from behind, recording and staring at your pretty pussy glistening around his index finger, slowly rubbing your slit up and down, his long finger slides up inside you, curling it, the bottom of his palm rubs right against your clit.

baji hovers above you, jaw clenched as he works his hand fast, shoving his ring finger to join his middle one. he whispers in your ear, “you’re so fuckin’ hot like this, so needy for me.” he kisses and bites the back of your neck, trailing his lips down your back towards your ass, lowering himself to be in direct line of sight of your pussy again.

he lightly starts sucking on your now swollen clit, burying his face in your cunt, messily eating you making the nastiest noises, which sends your hips squirming away from his lips, he circles his arms around your thighs, keeping you still enough while he tasted you.

he continues finger-fucking you, hardening his tongue to lick at your clit. he changes his thrusts to the scissoring motion. even though you told him you didn’t need prepping for his cock, something tells him that you’re not gonna be able to take it, begging him to stop.. whining about how it’s too much, the thought of hurting you like that and stretching your cunt out to only fit the form of his cock got him twitching.

seems like he’s not the only one who’s throbbing already, feeling your walls tighten up around his fingers, thighs trembling beyond your control as he holds it down with his grip that squeezes you from time to time. your moans, pleads and whimpers were music to his ears as you climax on his mouth,

you grip at the sheets feeling him spit on your pussy, sucking and tasting your juices with his eyes dilated, taking in the sight of his meal as if this is his last one, cause you truly are gonna be the fucking death of him. his fingers spread open your folds, watching his spit drip in between, clenching around nothing since you were achingly empty, he suddenly lifts his face, coming up to hover over you, continuing to work his fingers into you, fucking your own slick back into your cunt. “think she can handle my cock baby?” he gives your pussy a quick slap!

you clamp your teeth, hissing at the slap, you push yourself up with your arm to meet his eyes, biting your plump lips as you look back at him finger fucking you, the corners of his mouth glistening with your arousal, you nod persistently.

“use your words.” he gives your pussy another slap, “yes, yesyesyes..! please..” you plead pathetically, tears leaking from overwhelming pleasure already and he hasn’t even fucking started.

“atta girl, gonna give your pussy what it keeps throbbin’ for, and ‘m not gonna fuckin’ stop.” he says in between ripping off a condom from its confinement with his teeth and slides it on his cock, you moan after every promise he makes as he slowly sinks his tip in, your swollen plush lips swallowing and clenching him already, “shit.. ease up baby, you’re so goddamn tight.” his head tilts back, feeling you resist him, he hisses trying so hard to hold back from blowing his load right then and there.

he slides his hand to the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as his entire length finally sinks into you, you immediately grip on his arms, nails digging into him as a whine leaves your throat.

he pulls out and slides back in, over and over, his eyes glued to the way your slick is already coating his cock, he keeps his pace slow and hard, finding your spots and avoiding hitting your cervix, as much as he loves the thought of seeing you in pain he’d rather watch you squirt from overwhelming pleasure all over his abdomen.

his head dips down into the crook of your neck, biting it to suppress his groans, holding back from pulling out the condom and snapping his hips against your ass, the thought of breeding you is slowly consuming him and he’s trying his very best to hold that back.

suddenly, the creak of the front door of the house interrupts, followed by the soft thud of it closing. baji recognizes his mom’s footsteps slowly approaching the stairs, he suddenly straightens up at the sound, turning his head towards his door expecting her to barge in like she usually would, he takes the opportunity to slide the condom off, slowly shoving his tip back in, ignoring her presence in the house.

“s-stop.. i think somebody’s here.. i-“ he cuts you off immediately shoving two fingers into your mouth, “suck ‘n shut the fuck up.” the worst part about all of this is that he doesn’t stop.

matter of fact, his pace is moving faster than before, sounds of his hips roughly clapping your ass echoes around his room. you try to talk with a mouthful, “she’s gonna hear-“ “i don’t give a shit.” he gags you with his fingers, rolling his waist to knock into you, soaking wet pussy coating his abdomen, strings of slick connecting the two of you as he continues to kill your guts, forcing you to swallow back your screams as you mindlessly suck on his fingers like a dumb whore.

the second he started fucking you raw, everything that was holding him back from brutally pounding you is gone, your pussy’s too damn addictive, he can’t miss it for a minute, god if he was one of your costars he would’ve grown attached to you, making the producers yell “cut” cause he just. won’t. stop. fucking you.

you plead for him to stop, trying to push him back, too overstimulated for another orgasm, you suppress more moans from escaping your lips as he shoves all of his pulsating dick inside your wet cavern. the base of his cock meets your slit to let you know just how absolutely deep he’s gone in.

you were a siren to him, whimpers and squeaks too addictive to hear that he falls in a trance, watching you suppressing your noises like he ordered you to. he’s already planning on rewarding you for being such a good girl for him, ideas about lapping on your pussy nonstop cloud his mind, yeah. he’s gonna make you his after this.

for now, you don’t care about anything else except the feeling of his intoxicating desperate thrusts as he rams more forcefully inside, tears well up your eyes along with your whimpers. slobbering over his fingers and choking on your spit, you clench around him as you feel a growing sensation in your lower abdomen, aside from butterflies.

baji finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, “speak up baby.” he taunts before tightening his hand around your neck “fuckmybrainsoutfuckmybrainsout please please..” you can barely form a word from the pressure he’s putting against your windpipe, the only words that emit from your mouth are the words of a bitch in heat who’s clit possessed her body, mind and soul, and that’s exactly who you are right now.

“shit. let me cum inside you and i will princess.”

“wh- what about the condom..”

he grunts feeling you tighten around him, “must’ve slipped out.”

he’s so fucking mean, you’d be lying if you said you hated it, especially with the way you clenched around him after finding out that he was fucking you raw this entire time.

you nod, you nod desperately and latch onto his arms when the skin slapping becomes louder and louder with each second that passes, you cry in absolute euphoria as he chases his orgasm, feeling his own climax budding inside of him.

you start clapping your ass up to meet his thrusts, your mind brainless from his constant fucking, focused on one thing and one thing only.

your tits bounces as he jerks his hips more rapidly, he cusses under his breath, catching up to an animalistic pace until you completely disintegrate under him by the time you reach your climax.

your legs shake and your lips quiver, baji takes the opportunity and coats your insides with his load, shooting thick ropes of white all over your walls as you clench your cunt around him, draining the life out of him from the tip of his dick just from your tight pussy.

gasping and whimpering as he slowly pulls out of you to direct the camcorder towards your pussy, watching how his hot seed oozes out of the hole he just destroyed. he gives your ass a smack, flesh shaking like jelly as you push out more of his seed, making it drip down your slit, he grabs your ass spreading you open to give more room for it to ooze out.

“you’re so fucking perfect.. mine. all mine..” he says softly from behind the camcorder, he pans the camera towards your face, you smile into your shoulder blissfully and giggle as he films your bruised and used cunt. “mhm.. only mine.”

#this was sitting in my drafts for MONTHS lmao #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers baji keisuke #tokyo revengers baji #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji #chifuyu matsuno #ryusei satou #tokyorev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x you #baji x you #baji x reader

498 notes · View notes

notscarsafe · 3 months

Text

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 10 #hermitcraft s10 #mythicalsausage #hc s10 #new hermit speculation

591 notes · View notes

daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 1 month

Text

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Pent up (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Small fight, horny Chris, besties to lovers (when is that not the case?), minimal crying, inexperienced Chris, handjob, embarrassment/humiliation if you squint, switch Chris & reader, cumshot, riding, minimal degradation, begging

Chris’ pov

I’ve only ever had sex once in my life, it was when I was 17 and it was pretty trash, not gonna lie. It’s been 3 years since then and it’s been up to me to get myself off, which had been fine until recently. Nothing I do is working, I’ve tried switching hands, grinding on my bed, fucking pillows, humping random things, using a vibrator, and I still can’t cum. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard though, sometimes I go all day with a half-hard dick. It’s gotten to the point where it’s uncomfortable and starting to hurt because basically, all I can do is edge myself. I haven’t been able to fucking cum for 6 weeks, I don’t do hookups or one-night stands either so I’m literally screwed. (or not screwed in this sense)

Now that our friend Y/n from back home has moved to LA as well, my usually half-hard dick has become fully hard. We’ve known her for about 8 years, so needless to say she’s our best friend but that doesn’t mean I don’t find her attractive. Sure, in middle and high school I wasn’t attracted to her like that, plus she was more so Nick’s friend until we turned 16 and he came-out. She’s recently gotten a bigger following on social media and had moved out to LA for better opportunities, it was also obviously a plus that she’d get to see us more.

If I’m being honest, ever since Covid, Y/n has really had a glow up, we all have. However, I wasn’t used to seeing her all the time, except for on FaceTime, but her attractiveness never really affected me then. Now with Y/n coming over all the time, it was hard not to be affected by her attractiveness. It’s even harder when she wears short shorts/skirts, crop tops, or tank tops, and especially when she’s braless. I’d never say or do anything though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, what am I supposed to say? “Oh by the way, you make me hard when you wear clothes like that, could you please stop?” there’s absolutely no way I’d do that.

I’ve been doing my best to avoid Y/n for the past month and I think she’s starting to catch on, she probably thinks I’m mad at her. I catch her giving me hurt and confused looks all the time and Matt says I hurt her feelings by pushing her away for no reason. Except there was a reason, but nobody knew that and nobody was going to find out. At least that was the plan until today as Y/n came over yet again. She walked through the door as usual, saying hi to Matt and Nick before they left for some reason. I was extremely confused because we didn’t have any plans and they didn’t mention that they were going somewhere.

Y/n came over to the couch and sat next to me, I just stayed on my phone until she took it out of my hand. She set it down on the coffee table before wrapping both her arms around my left one. Y/n put her head on my shoulder and sadly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry.” that made me feel like shit. I sighed and removed my arm from her hold to give her an actual hug. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m sorry.” I sighed again as I heard her sniffle. She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso and I heard her sniffing a second time.

“Please don’t cry Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just going through something with myself and it’s difficult being around you” I really should’ve worded that better because Y/n immediately pulled away. She was now understandably defensive and upset “What’s that supposed to mean!? You don’t like being around me!? I literally paid Matt and Nick to stay the night at my house so I could talk to you privately and now you don’t even want to be around me!?” she yelled at me. She got off the couch and started walking towards the door crying.

I felt like an asshole so I immediately went after her, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling away and wiping away her tears. “God, you’re gonna fucking hate me after I say this.” I said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s difficult to be around you because you turn me on and make me extremely hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just my body being stupid. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I haven’t been able to cum in like 6 weeks, I get painfully hard and can basically only edge myself. You know I don’t do hookups so I can only rely on myself and it’s just not working. I’m sorry.” I told her truthfully.

Y/n started laughing, like full on hysterically laughing. I stood there, not finding what I just funny but still cracked a smile at her laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a jackass!” she joked, making me a little bit confused. “You could’ve just said that and I would’ve given you a handjob weeks ago!” she said between laughs. I didn’t know what to say back so I just stood there staring at her in shock. “Bullshit, I’ve been trying to hide the fact that you’ve been making me hard for weeks just for you to say you’d give me a handjob!? That’s fucking crazy!” I laughed while shaking my head.

Y/n’s pov

I can’t believe all the confusion and hurt going on, on my end was all because I turn Chris on. Yeah no shit he’s one of my best friends, but he’s also obviously very active and I’d honestly give him a handjob just for fun. I love the thought of making someone cum with just my hand, I’m obviously a bit more experienced than Chris since I had a boyfriend for 2 years and we had sex but it didn’t bother me. I like knowing I’ll be the only person to have given him a handjob and the second to touch him intimately like that.

After Chris said this was all crazy, I turned to walk back into the living room when he grabbed my wrist, turning me around. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a cocky tone, “To sit down, what are you doing?” I said back. “I believe you owe me a handjob. Can’t believe you came over to talk to me in such a slutty little outfit and expected me to not get hard” Chris said with a smirk as his hands went to my waist. He pulled me against him so I could feel his half-hard cock and he’s fucking huge.

I decided to mess with him a bit and pull away, doing a little spin before saying, “You don’t like my outfit? Is it because I look bad?” I fake pouted. Chris grabbed my hips once again but his hands almost immediately went down to my ass. “I love it, I just don’t want others seeing what’s mine.” he said lowly, “Possessive.” I teased him, poking his chest. “Is that a problem?” he asked, “Not at all.” I replied. “Good. Now about that handjob offer-“ he started before I cut him off, “ Yes, I’ll give you a handjob now c’mon.” I laughed at his neediness.

We got to his room and I sat on his bed, taking my shoes off while he took off his shirt and laid down, propped by pillows. “Wait! Y-You know um…” he trailed off so I spoke up instead. “Know that you’ve only ever been touched and seen naked once? Yes, I’m aware.” “Oh, um okay, yeah that’s what I was gonna say. I was also going to ask if we could like makeout first? You know, to make me less nervous…” Chris blushed cutely. “Anything you want, tonight is all about your pleasure.” I smiled at him before moving my lips to meet his. Right before our lips we’re about to meet Chris mumbled, “Want you on my lap” pulling my waist so I was now sitting on his lap.

I once again leaned down to attach our lips, my left hand was on his chest while my right cupped his jaw. The kiss was a little slow at first and I could feel that Chris was still half-hard, slowly getting fully hard when he deepened the kiss. I wasn’t expecting him to run his tongue across my bottom lip or squeeze my ass so he could gain access to my mouth, but I was glad he did. The kiss started to get hot and I loved the way Chris whimpered a bit before pulling away. “Want you to touch my cock.” he panted with a smirk. Chris took off his pants before asking me to take off my skirt, which I did, “Goddamn baby, you’ve got such a nice ass.” he said before slapping my ass, making me laugh.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy” I winked at him before placing another kiss to his lips, sliding my hand over his hard-on. I pulled away and saw a bit of fear flash through his eyes, “Chris, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” I asked softly, removing my hand from him. “No, I want you to keep going. I just- this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward after, right?” he asked nervously. I brought my hand up to stroke his cheek, “I promise this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward. I just wanna help you, plus it’s fun and enjoyable for me too.” I smiled. Chris smiled back, “Okay good. Please continue.” he said while blushing.

“Do you have lube and can I take off your boxers?” “Yes and yes” he replied, leaning over to grab the lube from his dresser next to his bed. He handed it to me before pulling down his boxers and blushing. “Holy fuck Chris! You’re fucking huge!” I said shocked because he’s a lot bigger than I expected. “Mmm shut up.” he whined back embarrassed, gasping loudly when I started slowly jerking him off. I looked at his face as it twisted with pleasure, I started to move my hand a bit faster as he looked at me, causing him to close his eyes and bite his lip to prevent any moans from falling past them. His face turned a bright pink, making me smile as I moved my other hand to his face, pulling his lip away from his teeth with my thumb.

“C’mon Chris, let me hear those pretty moans. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” I softly ordered him. His hands were by his sides, balled up in fists as he gripped onto the sheets below him. He let a small whine when he opened his eyes and saw mine looking back at them. “Does that feel good?” I asked seductively, “G-Go faster.” he said, “Can you use your manners for me?” I teased. Chris gave me a pleading look, not wanting to beg but that quickly changed when I stilled my movements. “No, don’t stop! P-Pease go faster!” he groaned, immediately avoiding eye contact with me. I lightly gripped his jaw as I started moving my hand again, I turned his head to face me before saying, “So good with your words.” I smiled before slowly making out with him.

Chris pulled away to let out a particularly loud moan as I felt some precum leak out of his tip. I decided if I wanted to go faster, I’d need to use the lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. I sped up my movements, making Chris’ whines and moans get louder. “Talk to me.” “What?” “Dirty talk to me, tell me I’m being good. I don’t know just talk to me, I’m getting close.” he said. “Awe that’s cute, I haven’t even been jerking you off for 10 minutes and you’re already gonna cum.” I teased thinking he’d get mad at me but instead let out a loud whimper. “You like when I do that?” I asked when I started moving faster, Chris just whined and nodded his head erratically, feeling slightly humiliated.

I dug my thumb into his slit, collecting precum before using my other hand to play with his balls. My fist would tighten every time I went up towards the head, making Chris whimper and whine. I was so focused on pleasuring him that I jumped when I felt his hands come up towards my boobs, “Sorry, I ju-“ he started being I cut him off. “It’s okay I just wasn’t expecting you to touch me, go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do. You’re being such a good boy.” I added the last sentence experimentally to see if he’d like it, and to my surprise, he let out a loud, whiny moan. He moved my tank top straps down and lowered it so my boobs were now visible. Chris looked from my boobs up to my face, getting embarrassed when he found me already looking at him.

“Fuck Y/n/n don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna make me cum.” he whined. I decided to move positions and go in between his legs so I could get a better angle, Chris’ eyes blew out with lust at that. He became a whining, whimpering mess, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit ‘m gonna cum!” he loudly moaned out. I started moving my hand as fast as I could, trying to keep his hips still at the same time. Chris’ left hand came down to tightly hold onto my right wrist as the pleasure was overwhelming due to him edging himself for so long. I saw his stomach flex and thighs start to shake a bit, signaling he was about to cum. Not wanting to make a big mess, I moved his cock so it was up against his stomach, that way he wouldn’t cum all over his sheets.

“Fuck Y/n! Oh shit- yes I’m cumming!” he groaned out loudly, “Be a good boy and cum for me.” I replied seductively. Chris let out something that was a mix between a whine and a growl, which sounded so fucking hot. Within a couple of seconds, thick strings of white cum started to paint his body as I jerked him through his orgasm. I watched in awe as this was the biggest cumshot I’ve ever seen, some cum even made it all the way up to his face. That was fucking hot, I helped him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, during which he let out multiple whimpers and whines. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize Chris’ cock had now turned soft, “S-Stop too much, ‘m sensitive!” he moaned, causing me to finally let go of his cock.

Chris was breathing heavily but he looked so fucking good covered in his own cum like this. “Chris, are you okay?” I asked gently, with his eyes closed all he could do was whimper out a response that would turn me on even more. “P-Picture! Take a picture of me covered in my cum!” I was a bit shocked but nonetheless, I got up to grab my phone. I wasn’t even turned around for a more than a minute, but by the time I got back to the bed with my phone, he was already hard again. I took a few pictures before telling him to open his eyes, Chris looked at me with an extremely fucked out expression and a dopey smile as I took the last picture.

Even though Chris was basically fucked dumb at this point, he still somehow managed to take control of the situation. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me closer to him, causing me to let out a surprised whine. “Clean my cum up with your tongue and ride me. Like you said earlier, tonight is all about my pleasure, meaning you’re gonna be the slut who does all the work.” he stated in an authoritative tone. I replied with a quick, “Yes sir.” before I started licking up his cum from his stomach all the way up to his face. He actually tasted really good, once he was clean of his cum, he sat up against the headboard.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, he said “Take it off.” before watching me pull it over my head. I was honestly a bit surprised at how much of a power bottom Chris was being right now, considering this is only his second time having sex. He pulled me onto his lap before smashing our lips together, biting mine as he pulled back to toy with the side of my panties. “Take these off before I fucking rip them off.” he growled, I immediately took them off and sat back on his lap. “Can I please just fuck myself on your cock now?” I whined, “Well you’re the one who’s gonna do all the work so go ahead. Condoms are i-“ he said cockily before I cut him off. “We don’t need one of those unless you want it.” I told him before kissing his neck, “Goddamn, no condom then.” he grunted.

I slowly sunk down onto his massive cock, “Jesus Christ! You’re so fucking tight!” he moaned out while his voice cracked. “Mhm you’re so big Chris!” I whimpered as I started bouncing on his dick. Chris helped me move by griping onto my ass while I started sucking hickies into his neck. “Baby you can’t leave marks, Matt and Nick can’t know.” he panted out, making me loudly whine. I didn’t stop though, I really didn’t care about his brothers finding out. However, I did stop when he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, “I told you to fucking stop!” he growled in my ear. I started moving a bit faster as he started sucking hickies into my chest, “Just wanted to mark you up!” I whined.

“Why? You tryna claim me as your own or something? Can’t stand the idea of other girls looking at me?” he teased me. Suddenly I turned into the whiny one, blabbing out incoherent sentences without thinking. “Don’t want others looking at you. Only me, you’re mine- please Chris! Want you!” I cried out as the pleasure started to become too much. “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking at me with his eyes full of lust, “Just want you!” I said frustrated. Chris started thrusting up into me, “Yeah, you want me baby? You got me, I’m yours princess, kiss me.” he said softly in my ear. I moved my hands to wrap around his neck and thread through his hair as our lips met in a feverish kiss.

Chris helped me move faster as he thrusted up into me as well before he moved one hand from my waist to rub my clit. He moved his kisses down my neck, sweetly sucking more hickies into the skin. “Feel so good around my cock princess.” he mumbled, “Shit, Chris I’m gonna cum!” I cried out. With that Chris flipped us over and started drilling into me, looking down at me with a smirk. “Cum on my cock babe, cum so I can fill you up with mine.” he groaned, I pulled him down for another kiss, moaning into it. He was fucking into me at a fairly fast pace while rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles. I tightened around him as I started to cum, moaning loudly. Chris’ thrusts grew sloppy and before I knew it, he was loudly groaning and filling me up with his cum.

He fucked into me for a couple more seconds then pulled out, laying down next to me. As I came down from my high, a wave of emotions hit me and I suddenly got nervous. “Chris…” I said barely above a whisper, he just pulled me into his side, laying my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up over us, “Shhh, it’s okay, I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise this doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Just go to sleep princess, everything’s gonna be okay.” he said in a soothing voice, calming my nerves. “Okay, goodnight Chris.” I said softly, “Goodnight pretty girl.” he replied back, protectively wrapping his arms around me.

Taglist: @angelic-sturniolos111 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @chrisolivia4l @christinarowie332 @chr1sgirl4life @creamoncreamoncream2 @delimeats-000 @devthepoet @ermdontmindthisaccount @flowerxbunnie @fionaheartswomen @gilbertscurls @heartsforchrisandmatt @iheartchrissturniolo @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @justaslvttygirl @kvtie444 @lustfulslxt @luvysworld @meg-sturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @mangosrar @mangoposts @meerkatzthings @mattsnutsack @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @recklesssturniolo @solarsturniolo @soursturniolo @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @sturniolocoded @sturniofilmd @sturniolohoe @sturniolopepsi @sturniolo0ntop @thecynthh

All work is subject to copyright

©Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2024

Do not steal, use, or reupload my work

400 notes · View notes

writing-makes-me-human · 1 year

Text

🌊Love And Guests🌊

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Aonung x reader

PART TWO: HERE

Summary: Aonung has put out your usual sass with his recent flirting and it’s driving you insane. When he finally gets to speak with you alone as he shows off his spear throwing expertise it gets heated quickly

Warnings: Sexual tension and heated word choices, no smut but it gets close, mention of genitals

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: No updates, I’m getting back into writing after months of breaks so I’m sorry if i’m rusty. Also I feel like it goes without saying that Aonung is of age in all of my writing. I am not just writing about a minor, you are close in age. 19 years old.

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

"I still don't know why you think it's better that I teach you instead of my brother", Tsireya warmly suggested as she handed you a beginner's spear to practice with.

"Because I want to learn from the best", was all you managed to say as you took the spear in your hands and inspected it with wandering hands.

The real reason you were so eager to meet up with Tsireya instead of Aonung was laughable. Aonung had been playing a dangerous game with your feelings, making you feel a way you shouldn't to fuel your thoughts about the chief's son. Avoiding the brat to the best of your abilities for weeks now was the only way you could fight the fact you were slowly starting to become infatuated with the boy that was growing into a young man.

He had become cocky now that he was of age, and while he still had a few years of learning left before becoming chief, it had become clear his training was making him more and more defined. The way his body moved with every hearty laugh or every faux wrestling match with his friends drove you up the wall, so you decided it was best to try and stop seeing him altogether.

However, this was becoming a challenge as he had recently decided to spend more of his free time harassing you than anyone else. It was very confusing, as you thought you had put this bullying behind you when you were children. That could easily be forgotten, though, as he was indeed still the next leader, and that could explain his rudeness, but what couldn't be helped was the blush that overgrew you every time he towered over you with that smirk that he didn't know affected you in such unforgiving ways.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered", she giggled, then continued, "but Aonung is the top in the clan at spear throwing, and he's not gonna be happy if he finds out you asked me instead of him", she never felt bad for her brother. Still, when it came to the matter of his undying yet, painfully expressed crush on you, she felt merciful.

You scoffed, squaring yourself next to her as you looked towards the targets drawn on the ground.

The target range for spear-throwing was closer to the village than any of the other training areas because you needed the clear ground to allow a large windup for hurling the stick through the air. It was still private, which you enjoyed because you had a feeling this was going to be an embarrassingly miserable display of physical prowess.

The targets were set up in the distance and made up of 3 circles of fine white sand sprinkled in precise shapes on the ground. Tsireya had already collected the sand earlier in the day and laid out the rings in exchange for you to be the one that churned the sand into the dirt when you were done so the next person who came to train could easily set up the rings and get started.

"I don't think I could handle his smugness at having me asking him a favor", you smiled at her, holding up the spear like you had seen Aonung and his friends do when they came here to learn when you were younger.

It was the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't have been able to handle his smug looks or laugh or the fact that to teach you meant one on one time by yourselves. You would prefer being lectured by Ronal, and that was saying something.

She nodded, trying to copy you as she held up the pointed end of the spear into the air, getting herself ready to fling the wooden spike. The artillery was too large for her, and you watched in curiosity as she heaved it up a little higher with a grunt.

"Alright, so what you want to do is pull back and using your back leg, you want to push--" she was cut off by the sound of laughter in the near vicinity. Before she could resume her instructions, you heard the sound of foliage and leafs being broken as a group of four boys emerged into the clearing, each of them but one with their spears by their side.

Aonung was still laughing at something Rotxo had said, but when he looked up and saw you, with your arms still raised as his sister mirrored you, he felt his heart skip a beat and his face light up with delight.

You cursed under your breath and dropped the stick like it was a venomous snake, instantly turning around to hide your slightly tinged face.

This was so unfair! He hadn't even said anything so far. All he had done was smile and laugh! He never had this much of a hold on you when he was younger. As he got older and his hair grew past his shoulders, and his muscles became larger, you became less aware of what to do with yourself.

"I have to go", you mumbled, feeling the tinge fade as you turned to pick up the burlap sack you had brought with you and leave for the village.

"Well, what is going on here?" Aonung called out in the conceited tone he saved for when he was talking to you. His deep voice boomed around the clearing, forcing its way into your ears and silencing the chatter between his other friends.

You didn't respond and instead made your way in the opposite direction they had come from, but before you could escape, a few words were yelled out, making your face nearly melt off your skull and onto the floor below you.

"Somewhere to be, pretty girl?" Aonung called out while his friends spread out, tossing down their training gear and lunches they had packed in preparation for a few hours of training.

You turned sharply, trying to calm your breathing so the blood would move from the gathering in your cheeks down to your heart which desperately needed the extra help because the poor thing was beating overtime.

"Just remembered I have somewhere to be", you said rather awkwardly, not allowing yourself to come across as timid but not quite having the energy to yell back at him with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on! You said you wanted to learn from the best, and he's right here!" Tsireya spoke. She lay down her spear next to yours and jogged up to you. She grinned as she gently tugged on your hand, coaxing you to come and stand to talk to the boys who were checking over their weapons.

You sighed, then gave in, dropping the sack and letting her drag you over to Aonung, who was still standing in the same spot. As you walked over, he had a proud smile etched on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off.

Your face dropped so you could look anywhere but into his eyes that would have caught you in his dangerous trap of good looks and gentle teasing and never let you go.

"Come on, teach her!" Tsireya was far too excited, nearly jumping up and down while her older brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who said I wanted to help?" He snarkly asked, then continued, "and next time you're thinking of using my spear, ask!" He spat, gesturing to the spike that was laid on the ground rather carelessly. That cleared up the question of why the spear had nearly tipped her over when she held it up.

She elbowed him roughly in the chest with her free arm causing him to bend down a little in pain and scowl at her, but no sound of agony came out.

He quickly straightened himself and snarled at Tsireya, but she gave him a pointed look before her eyes darted to you several times. After a few seconds, he finally got her unspoken threat and sighed, pushing past the both of you to walk over to collect his projectile.

You ignored the feeling of his hand burning on your shoulder as he pushed between you two, breaking the hold Tsireya had on you.

"Come on, pretty girl, let's see what you can do", he called out, not bothering to turn around because he knew you'd be following.

You looked over to Tsireya before you elbowed her yourself, questioning her with a look. She knew you didn't want to speak with him, yet here he was and instead of ushering him away, she had insisted he teaches you.

She simply shrugged at you and pushed you forward before running off to sit next to her brother's friends.

You passed by Rotxo and nodded to him in greetings which he returned before tucking into the fruits he had brought with him. He was chatting with his friends, who all found a spot under a nearby tree that was far enough away from the targets that they wouldn't hear you and Aonung's words to each other but still close enough that they could still see any funny failings.Your eyes settled on Aonung's back, and you took a deep breath, you didn't even have the shame to look away when he crouched down and picked up his spear, checking it over for dirt or marks.

"You watch me first, then you try", he said, glancing over to see you were watching him with eyes slightly wide at the idea of trying to copy his expert throw with an audience.

He smiled at you, which caused you to blush and break the stare you had been holding on his body, which only made him grin, thus continuing the terrible cycle.

"Eyes on me, nobody else is watching, so you can look at me as much as you want", he called you out with a smirk when you finally scowled, giving him a reaction that he couldn't help but chuckle at.

"I worry for anybody that enjoys looking at you", you hissed while taking a step back, knowing he would have to have some space to move when he threw the spike.

He didn't say anything this time but didn't have to. His eyes spoke for him as they shone like the sea on a sunny day.

"So she speaks! I was beginning to worry!" He watched you roll your eyes in amusement with a slight smile on your face, and he silently swore at himself in his head for turning so you wouldn't see his sly grin that he only got when he made you happy.

"Let's start", he wasted no more time and held the wooden stick over his head. You watched with slightly awestruck eyes as his body moved so purposefully.

He raised the spear, and using his other arm, he aimed to secure the direction he was throwing in. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made him cocky. He wanted to show off, to show you he was strong and worthy of praise.

He pulled back his left leg, then after taking a breath, he threw it with as much strength as it took to land directly in the centre of the target. They were far closer than he usually had them, but it was to be expected since you were a beginner.

The weapon shot through the air before the sharp spearhead dug into the ground with a thud, landing directly in the centre of the most petite ring. A perfect bullseye.

He leaned back with a satisfied grin. He turned to look at you with the hopes you would be at least slightly impressed. You were still staring, mouth open in an 'o' shape, struck somewhat by just how gifted at the sport he was, and it made a part of his internal body tingle when you turned with the look changing from amazement to an affectionate smile.

"I'll admit you aren't bad, I've seen worse", you couldn't help the smile anymore. He always had a way of killing off your anxiety, and right now was no different. His cocky grin made your heart speed up, but your mind just wanted to insult him until he dropped.

"If that's all it takes to impress you, I am afraid to know how easy it is to please you", he took no shame in his words, and your smile quickly dropped to embarrassed growls as you hid your face, turning to look over at his friends that were all talking to Tsireya about something at the same time. The discussion looked heated, and none of them paid attention to you two.

You watched, eyes as focused as ever.

"Arrogant brat", was all you could get out as you looked down at your feet and kicked at the dirt.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve? I didn't know you were such a goody-goody", he didn't wait for your smart-ass answer and walked off to tug his spear out of the ground sharply. Your mind was reeling as you heard a soft grunt escape his lips as he yanked his prize out of the ground.

You shook your head and bent down to pick up the training spear you had been given, not taking notice of your position that had your back to the sky until you felt a hand smack into your backside harshly.

The slap was loud, making your face turn scarlet red as you jumped up, abandoning the spike to glare at Aonung with a death stare.

You were shocked, he had never been so bold with his teasing, and while it wouldn't have crossed a line had you been alone, you could feel the four pairs of eyes gawking at the back of your head.

"Don't", you gently warned. You didn't want to admit it, and you knew it was wrong, and the pompous imp should have been ashamed of himself, Aonung should have been on his hands and knees begging to be forgiven, but a part of your brain was fighting not to jump his bones right now and embarrass him in front of his friends.

And he dared to look proud of himself as he laughed at your face, raising his hand in a half-assed attempt to hide the smile while you geared up to smack him across the face.

He noted how livid you looked and sighed. He hadn't meant to offend you. But when he was walking back and saw how your ass was staring at him like that, he couldn't resist the temptation.

"All right, I'm sorry" he held his hands up in surrender as a beam of playfulness poured from his eyes as a flirtatious grin overtook him.

"If you want to touch my body, ask, coward", you bit back, letting yourself grin as he took his turn of letting his mouth go slack at your actions.

"What's wrong pretty boy? Need some help?" you chuckled, nodding your head south. His eyes followed yours with a confused quirk on his brow as he looked down, and his eyes widened as he nervously took in that he had a half chub under his loin cloth.

You took a step back from him, feeling the heat between your legs signal it was time to go before you made some terrible mistakes that led you both behind a tree somewhere doing things you wanted to make him wait for.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and as you felt the roles reversing, you suddenly understood why Aonung found the teasing so fun.

He looked back up at your smug face and peeked toward the group behind you with a silent plea in his eyes. Don't drag their attention down to his excitement.

"You need to learn some manners, Aonung, it's not becoming of the next chief to be so blatant in public, you've really hurt my feelings", you gave a dramatic exaggeration of a pout to him while your hands came to lay on your heart.

He was blocked from the sight line of his peers by where you were standing, but one step to the left or right and even from this distance, it was undeniable that he was hard.

He hadn't moved to cover his crotch yet but he dropped the spear, staring at you with begging eyes. It seemed that your sudden 360 from being a blushed-out lovesick moron to a vengeful demon had done nothing to ease him down, if anything, you made it worse.

You leaned forward, taking great pleasure in standing on your feet a little to get even with his ear, your hot breath panted onto his neck and he couldn't do anything to stop you. One move, and you'd be exposing him to his closest friends.

"Compared to me, I think it's you that's easy to please", you smiled, and he hated how he could feel the heat from your mouth as your teeth came so close to his neck that it drove him mad.

You quickly pulled away and smiled when you saw his eyes were closed, he was focusing on his breathing like he had you doing from his actions so many times before, and it felt so good to see him like this. A grown man that was bigger than you in every way imaginable was trying to calm his breath over you and your words.

"Well, this has been fun, but I'll see you later, Aonung", you felt confident for the first time in weeks and slowly, you felt the old you coming back, the sarcastic you that had just as much bark in you as Aonung.

You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him, not quite flush against his body, lest one of the others looked up again and saw you two so close.

"Wait a few minutes, then follow me", he didn't give you the time to reply once again as he picked up the spear and finally had the dignity to cover himself with his free hand before walking off to go deeper into the forest without so much as a glance back.

Oh, you knew you shouldn't. You should turn around and leave, let the warrior get himself off in the forest like the animal he was acting like. Still, the heat that had signaled you to go nearly 5 minutes ago had grown, and you knew that even if it wasn't visible, your body was nearly 10x as horny as Aonung was.

You wanted him.

But you knew you couldn't mate here, and certainly not like this.

'Leave, leave leave', your mind screamed as your feet took step after step of their own volition after him.

You worried for a second that somebody would call out to you and ask where you were going, but a part of you knew that everyone had already worked out the nature of what was going on with you two. They had all been staring at you after he slapped your ass, so they must have.

"I'll just talk to him", you finally muttered to yourself as you set off in a faster pace, going off to find him.

#aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x you #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x y/n #way of water #avatar 2 #avatar 2023 #avatar way of water #x reader #romance #aonung imagine #aoung x reader #atwow x reader #atwow headcanons #female reader

3K notes · View notes

m0nsterqzzz · 2 months

Text

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination.

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand.

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.”

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.”

“Always?”

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!”

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #fluff #valentines day #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #cats #don't call my bitch the lightning theif percy!#what was that ending?#11 days late lol #valentines gifts #valentines day fic

489 notes · View notes

medium-rare-bimbo · 9 months

Text

Disappeared for almost a year, willing to answer questions about that thank you for all the concern :)) but really sorry for abandoning you all <3<3

♡masterlist♡

Stalker! Ghostface! eddie x bimbo! reader

-Steve is also mentioned <3<3

Eddie = stu

Steve = billy

!!!WARNINGS!!!

contains: dark! Eddie, noncon/ Dubcon, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy (obvi <3), knife play, blood, murder, mentions of necrophilia, crying, kidnapping, mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm

MINORS DNI

♡ you're one of the most popular girls at school or maybe in the entirety of Hawkins, you were pretty, always best dressed and most importantly eye candy for those around you. It didn't help that you were the sweetest girl to exist, despite the difference between you and the losers of the world you didnt treat them any different humans were humans what they looked like or how they acted wasnt apart of your conscience.

♡ eddie was set on you being his first statement victim, his first chance to show hawkins that people who peak in highscool were nothing more than burnouts, his first time showing the world that popular people meant nothing in the big picture, the big ocean of the world were you're nothing more than a drop of water. You would make headlines, your name and reputation would let everyone know just what they would be dealing with. who they were messing with.

♡ he stalked you for hours, days, weeks, months, memorizing your habits, your friends, your daily routines, your class schedules, what you do when you get home, who you hang out with, your dates, your family, how you respond to calls, who you talk to, your house layouts, entrance and exit points. Every. Single. Detail. He had taken up a habit of stealing some of your belongings scrunchie, hair tie, pieces of paper you've doodled on, notes, strands of your hair, eddie wanted everything. when the small opportunity became available he would occasionally break into your home, convincing himself that this was to memorize the layout of your house but not stopping himself from taking what he pleases panties, bras, lip balm, shirts, skirts, anything old and useless or in a large quantity would go missing. You never seemed to notice things go missing anyway

♡ nothing was off limits for eddie, NOTHING. He watched you walk, talk, eat, shower, get dressed, EVERYTHING. maybe it was the pre murder adrenaline that made him overthink, the fear of getting caught, the risk he was taking, the orgasmic haze that flooded over him everytime he thought about your corpse laying infront of him, botched up, dismantled, butchered into nothing more than your own worth. perhaps this rush made him plan out every possible outcome. He couldnt waste a lifetime in prison over some dumb bimbo who didnt know what pythagoras was. He had no reason to feel guilt it wasnt as if he hadnt gotten rid of some nobodies before but this was you, this was different this, was more meaningful. a few dead people who no one knew the name of wasnt something people cared about because they werent popular. They were freaks and no one cares for freaks except the circus, a place where they can point and laugh.

♡As much as eddie feared the consequences of his actions he needed to do this, his entire life hes been treated as if he were a freak. This is what he was made to do picking off all of the useless nobodies who think they matter in a sea of carbon copies. No one should miss a model or an athlete when there were people out there becoming scientist, people out there saving lives while others make a living by simply existing.

♡ When steve had fallen from grace, dethroned by billy Hargrove, it was like something inside him snapped almost like something dark had taken control of him. he became this standoffish creature yet he still had charm and almost like ink to water the darkness naturally spread to eddie, somehow, someway the two became as thick as thieves overnight

♡ Eddie had always been dark, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, dark music, dark life but Steve's influence made that darkness deepen, stories upon stories could come out about how disturbing eddie was yet they soon got swept under the rug when he was out with steve. creepy, charming, funny, manipulative, strange were all words you could describe eddie 'the freak' munson. Pherhaps he was already stained, perhaps steve reopening the wound letting the blood spill out was what caused this disaster, he needed to reignite the spark that made him, HIM and that spark seemed to be enough to cause an explosion.

♡ steve was the one to bring up the idea of murder, Nancy wheeler his ex girlfriend would be their (his) final girl every other victim a pawn and statement in his plan, his message to Hawkins, the world. although eddie had dabbled in the idea of killing someone almost obsessing, idolizing, romatizing dreaming of it he had never had the balls to pull it off, he knew there would accusations immediately pointed at him, soon losing the game he so desperately deserved to win at.

♡ eddie latched on to Steves reputation like a leech to flesh, he could get away with anything and no one would bat an eye. An alibi coming from steve 'the hair' harrington meant much more than cheerleaders who were known to torment eddie. The cops brushed off the suspicion with sympathy, poor eddie being targeted once again. Although that wasnt just the reason eddie became so attached to steve, him and Steve now shared the same ideology of the uselessness of popularity, billy hargrove was the best thing to come out of this school. Eddie now had a ride or die.

♡ when the topic of you being the first statement victim came up steve wasnt too pleased at the idea, you hadnt been mean to either of them and he was hoping the first assertion would be someone like billy, jason, chrissy or even Johnathan. He battled with eddie for days, weeks even, soon agreeing on the terms that it would be after he had used you, he wasn't about to slaughter a girl like you without trying you out first.

♡ a reluctant agree from eddie sealed the deal, steve sleeps with you, eddie ends you.

♡ they're outside your house steve in a tree eddie in a bush, their bodies unseen in the darkness as they watch their prey move about. Living room, hallway, kitchen, hallway, stairs, hallway, your room. Although they couldnt see into your room, this time you had remembered your curtains and as much as steve felt disappointment about not being able to witness your last moments he knew it was better this way. You wont see them and the nighbours wouldnt either

♡ as soon as your situated in your room he wait about 30 minutes before calling, going over the plan with eddie and hoping you're too warm to get out of bed and grab a knife. signalling to eddie that it was time to go He strategically moves around the perimeter of your house, making his way to the kitchen window that you never locked despite the fact there were murders, you never seemed to lock any of your windows almost as if you were inviting him in. the kitchen gave him the advantage to be unseen by cars possibly driving by and an easy way to grab an extra knife if needed.

♡ he crawled through the unlocked window, the black clothing blending into the night the only part of him visible is the white ghost mask covering his face. He could hear you talking to steve upstairs, answering his questions, asking questions and seemingly trying to get off the phone. He was excited almost, the thrill rushing over him as he heard your voice.

"Oh I dont really watch horror movies"

"....?"

"Yeah I get creeped out so much i usually watch them with someone, I dont like being alone watching monsters"

"....?"

"Yeah i just hate the suspense-"

So does he

"-it kills me-"

You have no idea

"- i just hate the music and the way you know you're obviously going to be scared but you just cant tell when"

"......?"

"Noo I'm not into cult things either, ever since the fire at melody lane I cant look at them the same"

".......?"

"Listen I'm just saying its really weird there was a fire and then the band blew up"

"......"

"I mean youd get suspicious too right? they're total cultists"

".... .....?

"T-they didnt sacrifice me I was just saying- listen is there a reason you called so late"

"......."

"If you're Jason or something I already said no leave me alone! I'm busy"

"..... ............. .......?"

"What do you mean where you are? I dont want to meet up for a quick fuck and I definitely dont want to know the name of someone who calls at god knows what hour"

"........"

".....what?"

"....."

"....The bathroom?"

"...."

".....The kitchen?"

"......"

"How close are you?"

"....."

"I'm not playing in to your stupid prank! I have things to do!!" You slam down the phone

♡ It was his go time, he waited and waited and waited hearing the phone ring and you quickly hanging up before the ringing stopped all together and he could hear the sound of your sheets moving. He waited some more, he wanted you to forget about the call, this time there would be no suspense youd think you're safe and sound until you're suddenly impaled by the knife in his grip.

♡ minutes ticked by he was sure steve thought he had pussied out. He reached his hand to the door knob and froze as he heard cries- moans. He couldn't believe this. You slut, you filthy, dirty, stupid slut you had just been threatened and told that there was someone in your house and you're touching yourself? Maybe eddie had been waiting so long that you had called Steve's the callers bluff.

♡ a shaking hand, one of delight not fear, twisted the door knob being silent however he doubted you could hear anything over you own moans to caught up in your world to acknowledge the murderer standing in your door way. The sight before eddie had been breathtaking and in any other circumstance he would have watched you until you came.

Hands down the front of your panties, head thrown back, eyes closed with nothing but a t shirt on, you clearly werent wearing a bra as he could perfectly see the outline of your nipples. He supposes adrenaline has different affects on everyone, yours just happens to be becoming horny. What a wonderful discovery

♡ he stalked towards you despite his heavy boots he made no sound, whines and gasps erupted from your throat as he neared closer truly getting the full show to it all. He leered above you like a hawk taking in the view before him until he strikes. He grabbed your mouth quickly shutting you up, muffling the scream that made it's way out of your throat, your hands immediately grabbing his own giving him a view of your sticky fingers all while shuffling up the bed to try and save your own dignity trying to block you body away from his sight.

♡ he climbed on top of you, pressing you into the bed and pinning your legs in place stopping the kicks from reaching him. He hung over you, his breathe heavy as he watched the horror in your eyes brighten as they caught glimpse of the weapon in his hand. You pleas and begs muffled into his glove as he stared at you giving you no indication of mercy

♡ He suddenly flips you over, your head forced into your pillows and stuffies silencing your protests with your ass raised, he pulled at you hips ragdoll-ing you into the position he wanted you in. He moved his hands down hour body towards your out of place panties reaching for the edge of them before you started yelling

"Get the fuck off of me-"

He roughly shoved your head back into the pillow once again silencing you

"Stay the down and shut the fuck up, I'll kill you now. I'll make you unrecognisable that the police will think you broke in do you want that?"

A sobbed out no and shake of the head came out, he once again shoved your head into your pillows as a warning

"Great now as you reminisce on your life, rethinking everything you've done and havent experienced you're gonna let me play with you until I'm bored got it?"

You once again nodded weeping into your pillow clutching the bears next to you, knowing the inevitable you accepted your fate. Atleast you'll be able to pray your family and friends knew you loved them

♡ eddie pulled your panties down slapping your leg indicating you to lift you knees up, he pocketed them keeping a souvenir for later. His hands found your thighs crawling their way up to your most intimate area he spread your holes with his thumbs, playing with the flesh revealing the sight of the juices leaking out of you no doubt from your little escapade. Eddie pondered while mindlessly playing with your anatomy, should he just kill you? Back out of this and get the job done? He shoudlnt be doing this, he was supposed to hunt food not play it. I mean it wasnt as if steve would mind right? He got his time to play and He wont cum in you probably, no dna behind the crime and he should atleast indulge. he is the one doing the dirty work. rationally he might as well have some fun before mutilating you right? Hes still going to kill you, has to. Maybe even kill you mid thrust and fuck your bleeding out corpse if hes up for it, going round after round until your body is cold.

♡ eddie, snapping out of his pondering thoughts, stopped playing with his now decided fleshlight shuffling his way up to you so his hips meet your ass, he hesitated slightly but barely before unbuckling his belt. Pulling down the tattered and worn out jeans (along with his boxers) to reveal his hard on. You sobbed harder as you felt him rub his cock on your cunt soaking in your juices, you were quickly shut up by a slap on your ass getting the memo you tried to bargain with him

"Please- please dont i- I can give you money or anything you want just please-"

He pressed his tip inside you, throwing his head back as you squealed and cried. A deep groan fell out of his mouth as your warmth wrapped around him. He brought his hands to the back of your neck gripping the hair harshly before leaning down

"I dont want money or clothes or food or a magic show I want your life and youre gonna give it to me you're gonna let me abuse this cunt and there's nothing you can do about it understood?"

"Mhm"

"Great now the only noise I want from your mouth are moans and cries because I dont want you to ruin this for me okay? I've waited so long to steal you away from the world this is only some self indulgence on my part you should be grateful"

♡ he began to slide in deep "Wait!"- you reached your arm back to push his hips away before his cock could enter "you need a condom I dont want to get pregn-" Before you could finish eddie pinned your arms against your back (forcing it to arch more than it already had) shoving his cock inside you to shut you up, you were being too loud as you actively ignored his order. You're such an idiot you wont be alive to carry a child, if he did cum inside, your body wouldnt be able to catch his seed youd be dead by then, hes about to murder you why would he leave behind obvious evidence?

♡ You squealed as his cock breached your hole barely giving you time to process the sheer size of it or the piercings that littered the underside. It wasnt long before he started thrusting in and out of you, he couldn't care less about your pleasure this isnt about you. You didnt deserve to adapt to the sudden abuse of your womb, you didnt deserve anything.

♡ although eddie was empty for your pleasure he did enjoy the moans and gasps coming out if you. If you had been a hook up at devils kettle after his band he would have took his time on you savouring the feeling of your walls as you took him, he would have tasted you until you couldnt breathe, came inside you until you couldnt walk, so many things he would have done differently. Nonetheless he doesnt regret what hes doing and what hes eventually going to do it's just a shame he couldnt relish in the tightness of your cunt regularly. Like poison you could only do have it once

"You know maybe I wont kill you think you can impress me enough for me to spare you? Huh? Or are you to dumb like the whore you are to even understand what I'm saying?"

"Mmm"

"Aww that's what I thought it's like you didnt want to live"

♡ his pounding picked up his grasp on your hip tightening almost squeezing immediate bruises into your skin. One of his gloved hands reached your headboard using it as leverage to fuck aswell as pulling it towards him to stop the repeated banging from it smashing into the wall. Your moans were a mixed with sobs and mumbles, you didnt even know what you were asking for, did you want him to stop? Or keep going? You're brain hazy and blinded by the violent treatment to your pretty puffy cunt

♡ Sweat from his brow dripped down into the mask soaking the fabric that covered the eyes and mouth. the mask in question did no job of muffling or hiding the noises that tumbled out of him, a mix of grunts, whines, groans and growls admitted from the man. He was unleashing all the pent up anger and insecurity into his thrusts. Stuttered breaths came from him although it sounded like snarls. His eyes couldnt focus on where to look, your face covered in your own sweat, tears and spit or the way your hole swallowed him in, practically sucking him back inside as soon as he left. It was a beautiful sight, your cunt now leaking down both his and your own thighs. red and raw from the ruining of his manhood and swollen balls repeatedly beating against your lips and clit.

♡ god he could keep you forever, locked in his rooms with nothing on, your only purpose is to be filled. Be his little housewife. Youd make such an amazing mommy you're so sweet to everyone youd be so good to him and his babies- what the fuck was he thinking?! Hes supposed to kill you not breed you like a cow and marry you what the fuck is wrong with him?? He picks up his forgetting knife tracing over your spine with it you squealed as he did, pressing yourself into your mattress to get away from the blade. He dragged the knife down to your thigh before making light marks upon them, maybe he could make it look like you were struggling mentally and was just some crazy bitch who cut herself to cope, if he stabs you correctly he could make it look like suicide.

♡ the pretty pearls of blood blossomed around the wounds he made, they were shallow but god did he love the sight of your blood as it trailed down your thigh similar to your own juices. Switching hands without pausing his momentum, swapping out the one holding your headboard. he began to do the same to your other thigh, relishing in the whimpers of either pain or confused pleasure although he guessed you enjoyed it from the way you clenched around him and started to try and move back against his thrusts. Knowing soon that if he didnt restrict with his mutilation he wouldnt be able to stop himself and it would no longer look self inflicted. He threw the knife next to him, leaning down to the crook of your neck breathing in your scent, his hand tip toed it's way to your throat pressing against your wind pipe as he watched your face, the face that was stuck in a pleading expression he knew you wanted mercy whether that be to cum or to live he knew you couldnt have one so he gave up on silencing the banging and reached his unoccupied hide down to yout clit pressing against the poor nub to gage your reaction immediately you moaned trying to turn you head into you pillow the hand on your throat disobeying you to even move. He rubbed the poor pearl in circles letting you cry out and your tears soak into his gloves

♡ his fun however was cut short by a person in the doorway, steve, dressed in his costume, head tilted with his arms crossed a disappointed stance as he watched the show infront of him 'really?' Was what steve was trying to say. In response eddie leaned up relocating his hand from your neck into the back of your head shoving you into the pillows before slapping your ass with the same hand staring directly at steve 'what are you gonna do about it'. You cried out at the sudden abuse which was met with another slap, steve having seen enough walked out probably raiding your fridge or something.

♡ you felt amazing hes kind of envious of steve for getting to you first, a slight wave of frustration washed over him as he couldnt have you again. His animalistic behaviour along with his feral treatment of you brought you close to the edge. Eddie's hands that now found their place back on your hips received urgent taps as you tried to communicate your end. He coudlnt care less though but he might aswell get the most he can out of his toy. Snaking on of his hands down to your clit, listening to your heightened wails as you drew closer the other hand leaving your hip and pressed against your stomach feeling the way he destroyed your insides. His body fell foward encapsulating your withering body that was too gone to hold itself up right.

"I- I'm gonna cum- I'm gonna cum- please let me cum please please please please-"

"Shshshhhh you can cum- you can cum im gonna make you cum and you're gonna thank me for doing such a nice thing before you die arent you?"

"yes yes yes yes- yes- oh please fuck- th-thank you thank you oh my god- please- thank you-"

♡ you tightened around him your back arching as your orgasm fell upon you, your fluids squirted along his cock as he continued his rampage, he was so close your pussy practically crushing him as he fucked your dead weight body

"Please- I'm s- sensitive I cant- s'too much- cant- cant take it"

"Y-you can take it. You can take all of it, you're taking me right now- you can take some more-"

♡ he felt his end near as he spoke, the urge to praise you and degrade you flooded through his brain desperately wanting to tell you how good you feel although nothing good ever last forever and he knew he couldnt mark you with his seed

"Didnt think youd be so tight- th-thought after all- all the dickheads you fuck wou- would loosen you out fucking slut, little bitch only good- for getting off"

"Nuh uh mmhmm'not- not a slut- dont sleep around- fuck please slow down please- they lie I dont-"

"They lie about it huh?- shit- they lie about fucking you? Just want to brag huh?"

"Mhmm"

♡ if heaven is real he it would definitely be inside you he didnt deserve heaven, not with the things hes done but he can spoil himself this one time right? Eddie pressed his head into the crook of your neck, the irritating fabric of his hoodie scratching your back, howls and groans spilled out of him he wanted to time it perfectly to pull out as soon as he cums, so much easier to wipe cum from skin then scrape it out of you. Though he doubts the cops would care if they found anything inside you a known minx filled with cum was not a surprise. He felt his hips buck into you stuttering as clawed his way to be closer to you, eddie isnt a strong man he couldnt pull out even if he wanted to, steve can go fuck himself they could find someone else, anyone.

♡ he spilled himself inside you wrapping his arms around your mid section to hold you against him, biting at any exposed flesh he could find, licking and sucking marks into your skin as he fell into greatness, He could feel his cum spill around his cock filling up your insides. Pants and heavy breaths came from the man above you maybe even whines but you couldnt be too sure, whispers of words you couldnt comprehend overflow from behind the mask as he slowly came down sloppy thrusts slowing down as he can to a halt. Over stimulated and hazy minded you barely acknowledge his peak, fuzzy and dumb you couldnt care less about what he does to you body. Your bedding was now soaked as you soon came to realize, he let go, forcing your body to fall flat on the bed. Carefully he pulled out of you watching his seed pool out of you, adding to the mess of your pretty little bed sheets, your poor pussy almost bruised and swollen from his attack, his cum highlighting the beauty of it

♡ he sat back and watched suddenly he didnt feel the urge to harm you, too caught up in post nut clarity. Instead of reaching for his knife he reached for your holes once again, spreading and playing with them, pushing his hard work back into it's new designated place listening to you let out sleepy whimpers and whines. He felt your combined juices melt into the fabric of his glove yet he couldnt care, hed do this every night for the rest if his life if it meant he could experience the warmth of your body.

♡ Eddie shifted off the bed catching a glimpse at your fucked out face barely able to keep your eyes open as your lashes fluttered, he knew you were fighting sleep a part of you aware of the danger you were currently in, however you werent aware of the change of plans. Eddie slipping his knife in the pocket of his jeans gave you one last look, strolling up to you and lifting his mask above his mouth, a small, short kiss pressed against your temple

"I'll be back baby"

♡ he made his way out of your room down the hallway, down the stairs and into he kitchen were he found steve sipping one of your dads beers.

"Did you do it?"

"...nope"

"Didnt think so.. wasnt any screams... jesus christ Eddie we've been planning this for months you were the one that suggested her"

"I mean... can you blame me?"

"Yes"

"That's fair... but you cant tell me her pussy didnt sway your mind about the whole murder thing"

"...."

"Steve lets be honest"

"I guess but that's not the point shes probably going to snitch on us you know that right"

"Please she's practically passed out on her bed, fucked dumb shes lucky she can even acknowledge where she is. She isnt gonna remember this"

"And what if she does"

"I can always go for round two"

"You're disgusting we are so dead"

"Well just have to wait and see wont we?"

♡ safe to say when monday came around there was no talk of your encounter with the infamous ghostface infact there was no indication that you had even had an interaction with a murderer, life went on as if nothing happened.

"Told you"

"You could've gotten us caught"

"But I didnt"

"So who next? I was thinking-"

♡ eddie zoned out as steve rambled one, his eyes travelling to your table as you chatted with friends, his marks were still there and he had no doubts your little girlfriends questioned you who did it. He liked the look of you wearing his claim. He'll visit you tonight, this time he'll fuck the way he truly wants.

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #ghostface Eddie x reader #steve harrington x reader #dark eddie munson #tw: noncon #ghostface steve harrington #eddie x reader #eddie x reader x steve #eddie munson smut

1K notes · View notes

transmascissues · 2 months

Text

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

#top surgery adventures #top surgery results #top surgery recovery #top surgery #double incision #trans man #transmasc

454 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

has yet to pass ✴︎ cs55

centre image by tony belobrajdic

genre: exes to lovers, slow burn, fluff, humor, slight angst, yearning, some sexual tension

word count: 12.5k

Four years after an angry breakup, the universe is bored enough to nominate Carlos Sainz for GQ Sports’ Man of the Year and assign you to be the writer of his profile.

notes... internet translated spanish lol

auds here... requested, this fic is long! i hope you all like it apologies for the inactivity </3 exes to lovers we have a very love/hate relationship but this was a pleasure to write

You’re half sure your head is about to pop out from how annoyed you are.

At the office, mornings move slowly in the very corporate-desk-job kind of way, but today is notably slower. Your boss had called you in an hour earlier to discuss important matters, and this is your third hour waiting already. Either your boss is a dumbass, or you got the wrong email, which both essentially mean the same thing anyway.

The time on your Panthère tells you you’re curving into the three-and-a-half hour territory, and right as you’re about to get up to get a glass of water, the large wooden door swings open and your name is called through the crack in it. Suddenly the irritation dissipates into nerves, and because Jonathan didn’t specify anything in the email, you realize you could be wading into anything right now. Termination. Promotion. A brick to the head.

“Morning,” you offer once the door’s been shut behind you.

“Sorry for the wait,” he says politely. “We’ve been in discussions with GQ Sports all day. All night last night, too. It’s all proper boring.”

You nod, remaining fairly quiet and waiting for him to break the news to you. He clears his throat, places his hands on his hips and exhales.

“Right, so this is all related to GQ, actually. They’re doing a Men of Sports segment and they asked us to assign one of our writers to an athlete. You’re our best right now, really—your article turnout last year was absolutely stellar. So, there’s, ah… there’s tennis, yeah, there’s footie, obviously, and—under usual circumstances, you’d get to choose one of either. But we actually really wanted to cover racing this year.”

The cloud above your head carrying the dreams of interviewing Leo Messi or Roger Federer pops dismally.

“Racing.” You repeat curtly.

“It’s gotten proper viral this year!” He smiles, gestures to nothing to prove his point. “Every teenage girl’s got a crush or other on a driver. Anyway, we set you up with the racing category, and the segment comes out in around six months.”

“I’ve got a tiny bit of a qualm about th—”

“So it’s decided. GQ’s going to pick out the driver for you, and you’ll be introduced at a gala next week.”

“Wait—” you laugh uncomfortably. “I’m thankful for the opportunity, and wow, thank you for choosing me, really, but do I not get to pick my own driver?” You clear your throat. “I mean, I’m spinning the story.”

“I know,” he sighs. “But this deal moved pretty quick, so a majority of the leverage goes to them. Don’t worry, though—a lot of the drivers will have great stories, I’m sure. You’ve got Lewis, you’ve got the Verstappen guy, you’ve got the Rosberg fellow…”

“Rosberg retired in 2016.”

“Oh, fuck, seriously? Well. Hit me with a brick then.”

—

The gala is a fundraiser to celebrate the season kicking off, you realize when you step outside the car and read the navy blue banner across the entrance to the carpet. It’s all fancy fonts and table placements, but One look at the watches and earrings in this place will tell you there’s more than enough funds already. You digress, anyway, walking inside to find the only one person you’re familiar with in the world of racing.

“Lewis,” you mutter when you locate him, voice dry with dread (and lack of alcohol), “kill me now.”

“On the off chance you’re serious—I’m actually willing to do so.” You slap his arm and he scowls.

“I’m supposed to meet the driver I’m writing about tonight, but the GQ guy hasn’t texted me. Christ, I hope it’s you. At least I have years’ worth of blackmail on you to really sell the profile.”

He only laughs, guiding the both of you to a champagne tower and offering you one. You down it in seconds, suffocated by nerves and the curiosity blooming inside you. “You don’t think it’s…?”

“I think they keep track of those things,” he replies, but his voice is only half-sure. “Conflict of interest and that. But Jonathan did say it was a quick deal?” You nod. “So it’s not impossible, I suppose.”

Big help, you chirp sarcastically, eyes perusing the large room. There are tables populated by celebrities, by politicians, and of course, by drivers. You keep scanning, squinting to chisel your search further, but it’s cut off by a tap of two fingers on your shoulder.

“Hi. I’m Nick, the GQ rep, and I believe you and I have a meeting,” says the man behind you with an excited smile. “Why don’t we…?”

He gestures to the expanse of the room and you nod, falling into step beside him. He introduces the article, the concept of shadowing the athlete to achieve a more immersive piece of work as a result, something novel and innovative.

He’s right in the middle of talking about Jonathan when he stops at one of the cocktail tables and stations the two of you there. “Okay. You’re one of the biggest names in sports journalism right now, so it means a lot for you to want to represent racing. Especially because both Neymar Jr. and Nadal expressed bids to get you to write their segments!”

“They wh—”

“Right, here we are. Meet your shadow—or, subject—for the next six-ish months.” He places two hands atop your shoulders and wheels you around, so your eyes meet those of, “…Carlos Sainz Jr.!”

Yeah. This is fucking rich.

Nick is talking but none of it falls right on your ears. Everywhere in your mind, alarm bells ring at full volume, alerting you to the danger present, almost. You plaster on a fake smile to acknowledge his presence, but his outstretched hand goes unnoticed. Clearly picking up on the tension, Nick gives a sheepish giggle and ducks out of the exchange, leaving the two of you woefully alone.

“Carlos,” you say politely. “What a nice surprise.”

There is a limited amount of phrases that are considered acceptable to say to an estranged ex of four years. There’s oh, what a surprise!, didn’t expect to see you here, you look well. It’s limited because nobody ever thinks to run into their estranged ex of four years, and even then, any sane person would do well to avoid interaction at all costs. So you’re really the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to be situated with a stuffy public interaction, under the guise of professionalism, with your ex-boyfriend.

Your history is heavy in the air. The last time you saw each other, things had been a lot different, but now you’re two professionals. Really. You really are professional.

“I refuse to be within ten metres of the guy,” you say, on your third martini. Lewis faces you with poorly hidden concern, and beside him, roped into your lovelorn matters, so does Sebastian Vettel. “Ten metres. Actually, no. Make it twenty. How can I be arsed to write an all-over-him feature about a guy I absolutely hate and haven’t seen in four years?! I had it all sussed—get assigned to Lewis, write the best feature, then restore his eighth world title.”

“—She’s joking,” coughs Lewis.

“Oh, but now? Now, it’s get assigned to my ex, write like shit, never get recognized for a good piece, and die hungry and alone on the streets of London. You know, I should just call Jonathan and tell him I don’t want this. I’d rather go back to writing normal articles.” You pry your clutch open but a hand stops you before you can.

“Don’t.” Sebastian’s voice is gentle, but firm. “This is a test of character, don’t you think? More than that—it’s a test of how good you are as a writer.”

“True,” interjects Lewis, chewing on a quiche. “If you can write a stellar profile about an ex, I mean—you’re just proper talented. But it’s also about how strong you are now, morally. Emotionally.”

“I’m perfectly fine emotions-wise, thanks,” you retort. Both men shrug, backing off, and you feel like you should be smug about it—but your mind is stuck on the topic even as the night passes.

You end up deciding when you’re kicking your heels off in your flat a few hours later, giving Jonathan a ring despite the late hour. It takes a while for the man to pick up, but he does eventually, with an excited tone colouring his voice—“How’s my star writer? Sainz, huh? Real eye candy.”

“About that…” you start, walking over to your bookshelf and chewing your lip, trying to think of the right way to decline the offer. Your eyes land on one of the several awards you’ve garnered in your profession—in fact, the very first one. Most Promising Journalist, it reads, embedded into the front’s frosty surface.

Four years ago. And you’ve proven it since, if the crowd of glass around it is anything to go by. Why let a petty ex destroy what could potentially be one of your biggest gigs yet? Your segue outside of sports journalism?

“Earth to—yeah, hello? About what?” Jonathan’s voice breaks you out of your thought train.

“… I just, uh,” you say, nodding, “I wanted to say I’m really excited.”

—

Carlos Sainz Jr., 27, is on the rise as one of Formula One’s most talented drivers… (add more info…) His smooth driving style and charm has led him to become one of the most popular figures in the sport, both on and off the paddock. He is also a huge, absolutely irritating, cannot for the life of him be humble!!!, SON OF A BITCH, PRICK, ASSHOLE—AND THE BIGGEST WANKER ON PLANET EAR

“The team will be here in just a minute,” says the lady who’d ushered you into this meeting room in Maranello. You half-shut your laptop in fear she’ll catch sight of your brief Word document meltdown, but she doesn’t seem to notice, setting a glass of water beside you and you stare idly at it while waiting for the rest of the room to enter. You’re expecting Nick, Carlos, Mattia—the boss—and Charles, his teammate. Jonathan’s already beside you playing Candy Crush on his phone, as per boomer law.

This meeting is pointless. You’ve already exchanged the bare minimum pleasantries with Carlos, anyway, and you cannot for the life of you decipher why there needs to be a whole new corporate clash just for this. But here you are anyway, awaiting your ex-boyfriend’s arrival into the room and back into your sweet life.

He enters with everybody else, his hair half-damp and his eyes meeting yours almost immediately. You clear your throat and turn away, standing to shake hands with Mattia. He’s pleasant about it, expressing excitement for the final output and commending your earlier work as a writer. You offer the polite small talk back, discussing plans for the article and the release date.

“Over at GQ Sports, we’re really trying to make this concept as immersive as possible. That requires the writer to shadow the athlete at almost all times, maybe taking a couple days off if needed. That might mean she gets a paddock pass, and things like that.”

“That’s no problem,” Mattia says. “Anything for the article.”

You end up being introduced to Charles, too—Charles Leclerc, who wears a contagious smile and won’t stop letting his eyes frolic in between you and Carlos, like he can sense the history. You suspect Carlos brought him up to speed, anyway, but it’s still a bit amusing. While the meeting carries on, Charles chips in with a joke. “Hey, if you find this guy irritating, you and I are going to get along.”

You laugh a bit, but remain mostly quiet for the sake of being professional. You miss the way Carlos’ eyes linger on you a second too long, focusing on the tail-end of the meeting so you can, for lack of better word, get the fuck out of here.

Of course, though, you’re stopped in the middle of the parking lot by Carlos himself, whose apologetic face is the first thing you see when you turn around with a huff. You’d already known it was him—he was calling your name loudly as he jogged over to you—but it’s still a sour surprise.

“What?”

“Let’s”—he pauses to take a breath—“talk. Listen, I know it must be an imposition for you to write about this, about me. Let me make it clear that I’m 100% okay if you choose to switch athletes. And if you needed any background information, I’ll be willing to give you that.”

“I don’t care what you’re okay with,” you say blankly. “And I’ve got Google.”

“Right.” He stares. “Um. Okay, well, let’s—can we agree, then? To be civil, for the period of time this article will be written?”

You consider the truce. As much as you’d like to be snarky with him and make your disdain all the more clear, you’re also not interested in making a scene or causing any type of fuss around his—and your—colleagues. The glass awards on your shelf flash through your mind, and you inhale softly. “Okay.”

He smiles. This seems a bit more difficult than you thought, for reasons you didn’t even consider.

“Forget anything ever happened,” he says when your hands meet. Something jolts through you.

Yeah, you’re fucked.

—

Your introduction to the actual sports part of the profile goes well, with a flurry of chaos in Bahrain.

Despite Jonathan’s texted reminder from Friday morning (Stick to Sainz the whole time), you find yourself staying in your comfort zone, ergo following Lewis around nearly the entire weekend. Granted, you are itnroduced to a few more drivers—Mick, Esteban, Alex—but also Lando, one of Carlos’ closest friends on the paddock, who makes dirty jokes from the get go.

Still, even Lewis has to remind you you have another driver to actually cover, so you reluctantly detach from him on the race day and begin your search for—

“Carlos,” you utter, breathless from exhaustion when you finally locate him inside his room at the motorhome, which you swear you checked twenty minutes ago. Either he’s avoiding you or he’s truly impossible to find. He adjusts his suit and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Yes?”

��I need a couple of words from you.” You smile politely, taking a seat on the couch armrest. “Like, pre-race nerves, jitters, routine. Anything?”

“I have a playlist,” he says, humming. “I like to call family, have a talk with the engineers.” He says it like en-yi-neers, but you already anticipated it. You’ve known en-yi-neers for years. You know how he talks, pronounces everything. “And I say a prayer, trust the car.”

“Trust the car?” You type the last few words onto your laptop, which you’d been toting around all day. It balances on your lap. “Any follow-ups to that, considering there’s been some chatter around the car this year and its supposed faultiness?”

“I just do what I do best,” he replies, steadfast. “The rest is a gamble I’m willing to take.”

“Perfect.” You finish. “That was a great line. Thanks so much, really.” It’s your reporter voice, the one you use for just about everyone else on the paddock. He nods in response, and the room ebbs into silence again. It’s awkward, when you excuse yourself and exit, already planning exactly how you’re going to tell this to Lewis. Halfway out the door, you purse your lips, turn, and then:

“Good luck, by the way.” Your voice falls soft.

He looks up, momentarily surprised. “Thank you.”

You nod a little, smiling as you shut the door.

Carlos ends up getting second place—you’re beside a zealous Ferrari engineer when it happens, walking along the pit lane. Compared to your stoic smile, their reaction looks like the pinnacle of human emotion. Your turmoil is all inward, a melting pot of emotion for the driver. Would it be weird, you think, to feel proud? To feel happy? When things have ended?

Much later, when you’re wrestling for comfort in the throng of cheering Ferrari engineers, you squint to find Carlos on the podium.

You’re aware there are photographers everywhere, with high-def cameras that rival your natural eyesight, even, but still you tug your phone out and snap a few shitty zoomed-in pictures of him in second place, smiling and sprayed with champagne. You think of the profile, of the words you’ll use to capture this moment, the season kickoff. But most of all you think of the way his eyes seem to search for something specific in the mass of people, or the way you wished for them to meet yours.

—

Sainz, a self-proclaimed music lover, loads a pre-race playlist that changes every few locations. He names some of his favorite artists and songs as sources of motivation.

You climb into the passenger seat of his Golf when you finally find him, after a half hour of asking around everywhere. First, it was “in the motorhome,” then it was “in a meeting,” then it was “hanging out with Charles”—none of which ended up being true, anyway. He doesn’t question your presence (he hasn’t much, lately), just lets his eyes wander over to you briefly before you begin asking questions.

“Favorite song?” You get straight to it, stressed over the article. Jonathan has been on your ass about missing a deadline and causing the third world war in the process, or something or other. You sigh when you settle into the seat.

“Not even a hello or a buenas noches,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot to drive the both of you to your hotel. “What’s this for?”

“You already know,” you say, humming as you sift through notes. “Listen. You did an interview before with Toro Rosso, right? Where you said your favorite artists were Muse, Kings of Leon, and The Killers. Right?”

“What the—you are a serious stalker.” He laughs out loud, eyes still on the road ahead.

“It’s kind of my job, Carlos,” you say, smiling and gritting your teeth. “Just answer.”

“Sí, sí. Yeah, I like that genre. I like rock, I guess… rock, indie, 80’s. You’d be surprised how little of an effect music has on my pre-race routine, though, even if I have a playlist.”

“Tell me more,” you muse. Your laziness to retrieve your laptop results in you scribbling soundbites onto your notebook instead.

“Music is an escape for me, you know? I like it a lot. So as long as something gets me going, I’m good with it. It doesn’t have to be by a favorite artist, or a famous one, or a Spanish one. Though I have been listening to Shakira a lot lately.” Obsessively listens to Shakira, you write. “It’s just release. Lately, I’ve been listening to the same few ones on loop.”

“Care to share?” Music = release. Same songs looped.

He presses something onto the centre console, and music flows throughout the car right after. “This.”

Baby I’m Yours by Arctic Monkeys, you write, and then, all at once, you slowly realize exactly what you’re writing. You stare at the scrawled-on words, the song bleeding into your ears and saturating your brain. You’ve always thought of this song with a weird feeling, one in between nostalgia and hurt, and now it’s on full blast. In Carlos’ Golf, no less, which happened to be the venue for many of your listening parties back then.

Back then—when nobody knew much of this song and it hadn’t yet become an indie anthem. It was just another cover by your favorite band in 2015. It became your song, the song for kitchen dances, the song for long car rides, the song for the red lights, the song for the morning routine.

But now it’s just a song.

“Carlos,” you say. It’s supposed to sound strict, firm, even a little angry. But you’re so affected, it leaves you quietly instead, weakly almost. “Come on.”

“Do you remember when you first showed me this song?” He responds instead, the volume still loud. You allow yourself to smile a little, leaning your head back and watching the cityscape of Bahrain whir past. In a foreign city, you think, you feel more at home than ever.

“Yeah,” you profess. “On my iPhone—what was it then? iPhone 5, or something.” You both laugh a little. The dam has broken, it seems, and topics of your past relationship seem to now be open to discussion. But it doesn’t feel alien, or weird, or uncomfortable. Carlos laughs, makes fun of your old lockscreen, and all is well.

A lot of memories have unwittingly attached themselves to this song. It’s the kind of song where, even in the opening notes, you’re already stunned with the myriad of them. There are the obvious ones: first finding the song, first dancing to it. But it trickles down into the smaller, more niche ones.

The time you got a busker in London to perform it for you both, and danced like idiots at ten-thirty in the evening, while some onlooking geriatric couple watched with mild entertainment. The time you got him a vinyl record of this EP, and left it in the cab before you were supposed to give it to him, leading to you crying on his sofa while he cuddled you and fed reassurance into your ear. The time he attempted to learn the chords to it and broke the string of your decorative guitar.

Like always, Carlos drives one-handed. He’s usually responsible, but if he’s cruising, or driving at a relatively slow pace, he likes to lean back and use his left. His right lays, unmanned, on the centre console of the Golf. You don’t notice it’s there until you finish writing a sample line on your notebook and you lower your left hand absentmindedly, brushing a finger against his in the process.

Your instinct is to jerk away, but Carlos is calm, humming to the song and reading road signs. So you let it rest there, in part to show yourself you’re capable of relaxing, but—and it feels like a heavy thing to admit—also because you like the feeling.

So your hands are there, just shy of each other, barely touching. His pointer finger twitches, almost like he’s trying to hold it back from inviting yours to wrap around it. You let yours brush over them a little bit, pulling away. Then he coughs, and lifts his hand to make a right turn, so you resume writing, eyes downcast.

—

You’d spent the Saudi weekend less with Lewis (in a bid to follow his advice) and socialized a bit more with Lando and Charles, who both proved to be pleasant company. They played table tennis with you and even shared a good chunk of grid gossip.

“Pierre and Yuki have soooo done it,” whispers Charles, scandalized, sipping a G&T from a decorative polka dot straw.

“Shut up!” You clap a hand over your mouth. “I mean, I had my suspicions. But really? They’ve shagged?”

“Oh.” He pauses dumbly, scratching his head. “I meant they’ve done marijuana.”

“Damn it, Charles,” bemoans Lando. “You’re a sodding buzzkill. We’ve all done weed, this is not news. The gay sex would’ve been.”

The afternoon progresses into night, and you seem to be on a roll with the sports component—Carlos gets to P3 in Saudi Arabia. You travel to his motorhome room after the debrief, where you hope he’ll be, and find him packing shit up inside.

“Good work out there,” you say, and when he looks up he finds himself meeting your eyes in the mirror. He fumbles with the zip of his suit and you walk a little closer.

He huffs out a polite thanks, tugging on the zipper harder. The cloth’s eaten it, a problem that’s been plaguing his race suits as of late—a problem, according to his engineer, easily solvable if he’d just be more patient with tugging it downward to loosen. A problem you’re familiar with as well, from his Toro Rosso days of ranting to you about zippers and sewing.

You lean against the wall and maintain safe distance. “I’m going to ask you about the race later.”

“Alright. What specifically?” He begins the mental Spanish-English translation in advance.

“Whatever you can give,” you reply, nonchalant. “Maybe more on the feeling while racing. The different perspectives of P3? Sort of like—yeah, you’re on the podium, but it’s not P1.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he laughs a little, a bit embarrassed he hasn’t fully undone the zipper yet. “Um, sure. I’ll meet you outside afterward.”

“Thanks. And—” You stop yourself in your tracks, still facing him in the mirror. His eyes find yours again, eyebrows raised from the unfinished sentence. “—Be patient with the zip.”

He chuckles, memories surfacing like bubbling lava. “Right. Bueno.” He turns and throws his hands up, looks like he’s surrendering almost. “Help me out?”

You’re incredulous—it’s a highly compromising position.

But he’s not really smiling, and he seems to be seriously asking you to please help zip him up, so you nod. Nod once then twice, walking slowly over to him and placing two fingers on the zipper. You don’t notice how shaky your grip is until you see the way your hand trembles.

Slowly, you tug. Upward, then downward, then upward again, to loosen the stubborn thing. Your eyes move until they meet his, and you realize how close together you are. From here you can see the faint pink indents on his face from the balaclava, and you wonder almost how it’d feel to stroke over it with your thumb. It twitches on the zip and you remember to yank it again.

“Just give me a second,” you say, but you’re not even paying attention to the zipper.

Just him. Just the proximity. The thoughts of what if—what if you leaned closer, right now? Closed the gap, shut your eyes, let your finger trace over the shape left behind by his balaclava, zip forgotten?

“Take your time.” His voice is deep, gentle.

His eyes pierce yours, the tension growing in between you until you can barely breathe.

You pull and finally, it gives, unzipping the whole way. You blink, breaking eye contact and stepping backwards so fast you almost trip. “I’ll be outside.” The door is shut, the noise damning behind you as you finish an entire cup of water in what you genuinely think to be record time.

—

“Fine. Fifty euros.”

“Fifty?! Cheap trick. Make it two hundred.”

“If you’re in the hundred territory, might as well make it five hundred. Turn this into a serious thing.”

“Deal.” The Brit and the Monegasque clap their hands together in a firm handshake. “Let’s talk terms.”

Charles recites his end of the bet, as clearly as he did when this was first wagered just ten minutes ago. “She and Carlos will start dating before the article is even published.”

“They’re exes, innit?” Lando laughs. “You’re wrong, Charl-ito. They will never date, ever again. Exes don’t date.”

“Unless they’re soulmates,” he reasons.

“Psh, what do you know about soulmates?” The younger raises a condescending brow. “You dated a girl and then her best friend.”

“Back off,” insists Charles petulantly, watching Lando messily write down the evidence of their wager on a small slip of paper. For proof, he’d said, before slipping it into the back of his opaque phone case. He waves it around. “We shall see.”

“You will definitely be paying me up,” Charles says proudly. “Just you wait.”

—

“Care to listen to me?” You hoist yourself onto the stool of this hotel bar, ordering yourself a martini.

“Always,” says Lewis, immediately facing you. He’s always been one of the kindest, most genuine people in your life. He’s known you forever, and he’s the only person here who really knows the extent of your history with Carlos, all the layers, all the fights, all of it.

You sigh and lean against the backrest, deflated. “Carlos and I… I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“The article?”

“Being with him.” You pause to reword it. “Around him.”

“I see. Hasn’t it been, what—four years now, though?”

“Yeah, but…” But why does it feel like you both want those four years gone? The car ride with the song, the eye contact, zip situation after Saudi. You lick over your lips and sit a little straighter.

“Lew, it’s just—and you should know this—when you break up with someone, you’re forced to unlearn all the things you knew about them.” You sigh. “All the… just all of it. The habits, the quirks, the favorite words, the way they like their toast and eggs. And if you can’t, then fine, it’s still okay, because why would you ever need it again? But I haven’t forgotten anything, and now he’s back in my life.”

Lewis stares, with eyes that convey solemnity and a little sadness. He seems to understand, watching you intently, the way your eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“So now I see him, and it feels like he’s like”—you inhale—“this sounds… bad, but like… I’m… like he’s a lover, kind of. In disguise, a little bit. I don’t know. Like, I have to pretend I know nothing about him, like every little fun fact is a new thing for the profile… but I know everything.” And what a heavy burden it is.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“No, don’t be. I’m pretty sure this is all one-sided.” You take a long sip. “That’s the price to pay for ending on bad terms, I suppose.”

“Just think,” he muses out loud. “When this is all over and you’re accepting your Pulitzer, you won’t even be thinking of him one bit.”

“Right,” you say. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. He’s the only thing on your mind. “Right.”

You find a working title for the article later. Carlos Sainz, it reads on your Word document. On racing, gracious defeat, and life’s driving forces.

—

Like every other sport, Formula One drivers have their share of bad competition days. Sainz recalls a time his car failed and caused him to DNF—racing vernacular for “Did Not Finish,” a damning phrase for any driver on the grid.

A double kill vibrates through Carlos.

It’s a consecutive hit that’s both professional and personal, and greatly affects the momentum of the profile you’re busy writing. In Australia he’d been reserved, eyes stormy, walking alone but not angry. He’d congratulated Charles and everything, even offered a few words for the article. The last you saw of him was with a beer, brows knitted together.

Tonight you’re in Imola. He’d been okay after the race, the usual silence that comes with a bad result.

No hard feelings, he’d said. This is the business. Hugged Danny, excused himself; nobody said anything. It’s a normal response to a shit day. You spend the post-race buzz with Lewis and Sebastian this time, but you manage to congratulate Lando on the podium finish when you catch sight of him.

“Maaate!” He cries gleefully when he sees you. “Where’s the muppet?”

“Mourning,” you drone. “Reasonably so, I guess.”

“Tough crowd,” he says, kissing his teeth. “But, yeah. Hey—shots on me!”

“Tempting offer.” You eye the bunch of tequila on the table. “But I think I’ll retire early. I need to send a draft pretty early tonight.”

“All good. Have fun being a loser,” he says, watching you leave.

The hotel, it turns out, is not nearly as fun as the party. Which is common sense.

You spend time writing and rewriting a few paragraphs of the article, stuck on the title of it and honestly wishing you were with Cuervo and vodka right now. You suppose you don’t need one just yet—they usually come to you late, anyways. Jonathan sends you three follow-up emails regarding a draft, so you send him the latest version and read over the file, reciting favorite lines under your breath.

In the middle of reading on the Bahrain P2 and a little segment on Sainz’s favorite Ferrari moments, somebody knocks on your door.

It’s a surprise—you don’t spend much time with people on the paddock, and only few of them know your room number, which leads you to narrow down the person on the other side to a select group. There’s Lewis, most likely of them all. Charles, who you’d grown much closer to as of late. Level with him is Lando. Then maybe, just maybe, Sebastian, to offer late night advice.

It could’ve been any of them, but it’s not. It’s somebody else.

“I’m sorry.” His voice threatens to break. “I didn’t know who else I could talk to.”

“Carlos?” You blink.

You usher him in after, and you hope his mind is anxious enough that it doesn’t pay much attention to your hideous pajama situation (old hoodie, souvenir L.A. pajama pants). You end up on your balcony, both of you facing the frigid nighttime air. It freezes your cheeks, casts your hair backwards. Your eyes slide to his stoic figure, the way even his hair is blown back by the wind.

He’s quiet, but more relaxed, less stiff. “Sorry, again.”

“S’okay.”

You duck back inside and return with two cigarettes and a lighter. “Wanna?”

“Awful habit.” But he accepts it anyway, sticking it in between his lips. It bobs as he speaks, still unlit. “I need this, though.”

“I don’t do it regularly,” you defend, pressing the flame to the cig. He exhales. “Some situations call for them.”

“This definitely does. Bit of a slap to the face, you know?” You nod. “I’m sorry.” The apology carries more weight than it should, and you know why.

Like it’s the most difficult thing in the world, you breathe a few times before you respond in a hushed tone. With your words comes a huff of smoke. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You gave it your all, took a risk, it went to shit. But you gave it your all is what matters in the end. You put heart into it, which is something not everyone does in sports these days.”

“I feel… complimented.” You both laugh at the lack of good phrasing, so he rewords it. “I meant, I feel, how you say? Touched. It means a lot to be praised by you.”

“Does it?” Smoke again, another whiff of it.

“They only ever want to praise the podium finish, the P1, the title holder.” He lets the words fizzle. “But here you are praising a driver who finished like shit twice in a row. More people should be like you, paying thanks to the underdogs.”

It’s not the underdogs, you think. It’s just because of you.

“More like the shit drivers,” you say instead, in a low rumbling voice. He laughs, calls you stupid in Spanish, and it’s a dead issue.

Later, before he leaves, when the room’s much darker and less bathed in moonlight, you whisper goodbye to him through a small crack in the door. He smiles a bit, and you catch it even with the lack of lighting.

“Thank you.” He says. He means it. You catch his perfume when the door swings closed. It smells like wood.

—

Sainz has off-grid hobbies, one of the most notable of which is cooking. He claims to have a good hold over the kitchen, and cooks several of his favorite dishes on the rare weekend off. Blah blaaahhhh, cooks well. Usually wears funky apron. WRITE THIS PROFILE ALREADY STOP EATING PASTA YOU DIPSHIT

Lando had invited you all to an Airbnb owned by a friend in Umbria, a two-ish hour drive from Imola.

With two free days, you’d followed a small group of drivers—Carlos included—to soak in the rest of Tuscany. Charles and Lando, however, left as soon as you arrived, to check out the last few hours of the farmer’s market. Alex had met Lily at the Eurostar station and they’d gone biking together.

This effectively left you and Carlos alone, which was not an unusual occurrence, but still proved to be a bit tense. With the kitchen free and the fridge stocked, Carlos suggested he cook for you both. Despite your best efforts, you ended up at the island writing and taste testing sauce, chicken, anything he slid over to you on a saucer with a tiny fork beside it.

“You’re going to give me cholesterol problems,” you quip. “This pasta is too good.”

“Cacio e pepe.” He twirls some onto a fork, straight off the pan, and shoves it into his mouth, a low mmmm leaving him once he gets to chewing. You laugh, a stifled sound through the noodles in your mouth at the exaggerated show of delicious food.

“Any favourite food you think is notable enough for the profile?” You type again, backspacing your harsh reminder. Makes a mean cacio e pepe (look up translation later). “Like, food you cook yourself, or even other recipes.”

“This,” he says, pointing to the pan. “This is fuel.”

“Amen.” Loves cacio e pepe.

“And it’s good with chicken.” He points to the oven, where he’s been baking chicken for a bit now. The kitchen smells of it, of the rosemary and oregano and pepper. “Oh, and put that I cook with music on. Let me connect my phone.”

Cooks w/ music. “Why do you need to mention that?”

“Ladies love a chef,” he says simply, letting a familiar song thrum into the woody kitchen. “And I love ladies.”

“Okay, slag.”

“Fuck off!” He begins shimmying all across the kitchen island, cranking open the oven mid-dance to check on the chicken, then continuing to clean the counter. Still he dances, and not very well, either—he always claimed singing was a stronger suit of his, so you allow the fool to be a fool.

Back when you two were still together, Carlos already had a preference for 70’s disco in the kitchen, saying it brought out the dancer in him. Nothing seems to have changed in that department, and you smile with mild embarrassment and amusement watching him dance across the kitchen, using the kitchen towel as a prop and swinging it around.

Loves dancing to The Communards while baking rosemary chicken. “Let me taste the chicken, by the way,” you ask when you finish typing, hopping off the stool and walking to the oven. He continues dancing, hips cocking poorly from side to side to the old song. He retrieves a fork and cuts a piece of chicken, reviewing its doneness briefly before turning with a piece of it stabbed into the utensil.

“Open,” he says. “It’s hot.”

It’s too natural, the way he slowly feeds you the piece. You don’t even realize it until you’re chewing, and by then he’s back to dancing to the song that’s now reaching its end. “It, uh,” you stutter, a bit nervous, “it’s really good.”

“Of course, I cooked it,” he says smugly. You grab a lime from the fruit bowl and throw it, hitting him in the back of the head in retaliation. He turns slowly, still dancing, lips stretched into a challenging smile.

Lando and Charles walk in ten minutes later to Carlos and you, yelping and chasing each other around the wide counter, chicken left atop it and forgotten in favor of the tag game. Charles, toting bags of fruit, faces Lando with a victorious expression. Pay up, he mouths, cocky.

—

It’s much too hot in Miami, but you appreciate the heavy beach culture and the even heavier nightlife.

You work on the profile until your fingers hurt from typing, sending Jonathan another draft for approval. Charles joins you on a cocktail taste test at the open bar until your tongue tastes like gin and your head is a bit spinny. Both Ferrari drivers end up having a shitload of pictures of you sleeping on the leather couch, enough that Lewis ends up getting ahold of them, too.

It’s a 2-3, in the end, with P1 going to Max. The latter throws a party at some place along the beach strip, invites you in one of the only conversations you’ve ever shared with the guy so far. He seems a bit unfriendly, but when you walk into the exclusive club later that night, you find him doing a handstand in front of a beer keg, so that’s that.

FUCK YEAH! Max hollers, following it with a howl so happy it reverbrates in your ears. It’s crowded everywhere, and you’re pretty sure Lewis isn’t here, so you spend a few minutes roaming around, getting a good grip on the vibe of the place.

It’s Carlos who finds you in the middle of the dance floor, nursing yet another drink to aid your lack of social skills. His voice is rough in your ear and it smells like a Jägerbomb, a low laugh escaping it right after. “All alone?”

“Unfortunately,” you tease, turning to face him. “Man, I thought guys were confident in Florida.”

“Cuidado,” he warns, smiling. “This dress is pretty difficult to resist.” His tongue’s definitely been loosened by shots, his eyes half-lidded and looking you up and down. You laugh, raising one eyebrow at the sudden flirty tone, but welcoming it nonetheless, depositing your now empty glass on whatever cocktail table is nearest. Who said you were sober?

“Nobody’s inviting me, so why don’t you and I dance instead?”

He licks over his lips—he never seems to keep his tongue in his mouth—and winks, nodding.

And here in Miami, through the strobing purple lights of this ridiculously expensive club, you wrap your arms around his neck and dance to whatever Calvin Harris song is blaring through the bass.

His hands are all over you, loosening your stiff stature; they wring into the fabric of your obejctively too-short dress, raking it up a bit. You lean back and he leans forward, following you, drawn into you, your noses pressed together and your eyes meeting. Your breath heightens, holds, your fingers moving to his long hair and holding him close to you.

His hand moves over your ass, pulling you in. He smiles, pokes his tongue into his cheek, and you giggle, almost causing your lips to touch. Your mind is haywire from the alcohol, but you can’t really bring yourself to care. The warmth grows between you, closer and closer, the dynamic easy—

And then someone spills their drink on both your feet, causing you two to break apart and laugh off the tension instead. You’d almost fucking kissed. However you’re going to tell this to Lewis, you don’t even know.

And you’re not entirely sure, you think as you rinse whiskey and bile off the tip of your heel in the bathroom, how it sounds like to write Sainz and I almost made out in public on the GQ profile.

—

Nick emails you directly to ask if Carlos can do some test shoots in Miami for the profile cover.

You convince him to agree, even if he thinks he’s no good in front of a camera, and you two show up to a mostly empty warehouse studio. There’s a white backdrop situated toward the back and a tiny-sized crew of people working.

“Hi. Is this for GQ?” You ask the photographer. “Test shots?”

“Oh, hi.” He stands and shakes your hand. “I’m Luke. Big fan of your work, by the way. So the concept today is just plain shirt, long hair, gorgeous face, white background. Good?”

“Bueno,” Carlos says behind you with a smile.

You sit on a chair a few metres behind Luke while he works, watching the shots pop up on his screen every time the shutter clicks. As it turns out, Carlos is a brilliant liar, because every single shot—even one where he was fixing a wrinkle in his tee—looks perfectly usable anyway. Sainz is a natural stunner, you jot down.

It’s a bit awkward to admit you can’t help but stare, but his face is undeniably handsome, especially when he’s in front of the camera. Thankfully for you, and heavily owed to Carlos’ natural skill for modeling, the ordeal’s over in less than thirty minutes, and you begin preparing your stuff to leave.

“Oh, crap. I forgot I had to do a test bridal shoot for R&B’s wedding anniversary in September.” Luke sighs, clicking through the photos rapidly.

“R&B. The… music genre?” You ask, confused and toting your bag on your shoulder.

“Silly! Ryan and Blake. As in, Reynolds and Lively? They plan their photoshoots way in advance, and they always need sample poses to choose from.”

“Oh, I get it.” You smile. “Well, we’re sorry for keeping you.”

“You”—he stops both you and Carlos, pacing in front—“you two wouldn’t… mind, would you?”

“Mind… mind what, now?” Your eyes flit toward Carlos’ and you both laugh nervously.

“Being my mannequins for the bridal shoot!”

Both of you balk, making up all kinds of excuses, but as fate would have it, Luke is very convincing and you’re against the backdrop after five minutes of persuasion. He directs you into different silly, quirky poses—a piggyback ride both ways, smiling goofily, the like. Carlos can’t stop laughing every time the shutter clicks, at how silly the two of you must look.

Luke plays some music to get you both looser, and directs you into a few mocking dance poses. Then he directs you in a partners-in-crime pose, which you love the outcome of. Okay, last one, newlyweds, he says. Carlos, why don’t you get behind her and wrap your arms around her waist?

You clear your throat, letting him do so anyway, his hands big around your frame. “Careful,” you whisper when he’s right behind you. Luke raises an inquisitive brow behind the camera, watches your chemistry unfold through the viewfinder. Your breath hitches a little, but you swallow the nerves.

Look into his eyes, Luke says. So you do, meet them, force yourself not to look away for once and just stare. It’d been easy to do this, because you could just as easily break the stare, but now it’s different. Your eyes flutter, and his stay unblinking.

It’s like that for a minute, just staring, like all the things you want to say can communicate themselves through eye contact alone. Another twenty seconds pass before Luke coughs, breaking the moment.

“I said we were good like a minute ago, guys,” he says knowingly, packing up with a smirk.

—

Lewis advises you to avert your pent up “romantic” tension to another boy. It’s difficult, but you challenge yourself to find somebody anyway, maybe outside of racing, to use your extra paddock pass (courtesy of Mattia) on. The guys in your DMs are all skeevy, or you’ve unfortunately ghosted them, so they’re all out.

After some searching, you end up using your extra pass in Spain, and for James, a Sky Sports sound editor for streamed football games. He’s British and a huge Tottenham fan who you met during drinks with a few reporters the month prior. Not bad, but not necessarily your type; at this point, though, you’ll take anybody above the bare minimum. And James is above it—a gentleman, kind, funny in the quaint English way. He could be taller, but you find him charming enough.

Noise flows through the paddock, chatter and cheering and interviews. “This is so cool,” says James animatedly. “I feel like a regular Schumacher.”

You give a phony, flirty laugh and enter the Ferrari hospitality, raking your hair backwards. “I’m going to get something real quick, okay? Stay put…” You point at a lone chair. “Over there.”

“Alright,” he says with a smile. “I can’t roam arou—?”

“No!” You say, a tad too quickly. “I mean, sorry. Don’t. Just. I’ll be back really quickly.” Before you can even retrieve your phone charger from Carlos’ room, the owner himself walks into the area, squirting water into his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows together when he sees you standing beside a stranger.

“Hi,” Carlos says, a bit bluntly. His eyes are darting everywhere but at you, lingering a bit too distastefully on James’ timid figure. “You are?”

“Her date,” James says with a nervous laugh, pointing a thumb towards you. “James. Huge fan of you. Of the team.”

“Sure.” He offers a tight-lipped smile, hand meeting James’ outstretched one to form a polite handshake.

It’s awkward, is what it is—awkward and stuffy and Carlos won’t look at you. He clenches his jaw a little, smiles, looks up and down. “You, uh… how long have you guys been…?” He waves a finger in between the both of you, almost fearfully, like the answer will cast him into ashes.

“Not—not long, really.” James laughs again to relieve the tension that seeps across the room. “A month?”

“A month?” Carlos repeats, arms crossed.

“We haven’t even, like, had se—”

“That’s—” you cut in, sharp and apologetic, “wow, that’s plenty. Thanks, James. Could you get us some drinks? I’ll have a beer.”

“It’s one-thirty,” he says.

“Yeah,” you respond. “A beer.”

He leaves you both alone sheepishly, and you turn to face Carlos’ intense expression.

His arms are crossed and he rakes a hand through his hair—but he doesn’t say anything. Why should he, anyway, he thinks to himself, staring at you. You wore your hair in a ponytail today, so he sees more of your pretty face. Oh and so does James. Pendejo.

“Are you okay?” You ask, even if he knows you know what’s up.

“Totally. Muy bien.” He shrugs, drinking water again. “Should I not be?”

“Never said that,” you say, raising both eyebrows.

“Okay. Well enjoy the beer.”

So he’s jealous. Fine, sue him. He’s jealous of the British gangly guy you thought was good enough to invite onto the paddock. Barely even made a lasting impression. He gives a small, phony smile and walks back, meeting Charles along the way.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, mate,” says the younger, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Maybe the ghost of James?” He flicks the guy’s forehead, laughing.

P4, it ends up being. Not nearly good enough. But James is the first to say, “Congratulations, hombre!” in a God awful accent, so it becomes ten times worse, really.

—

“Alright guys, Carlos and I here today with some members of our team, and we’re going to play some fun trivia games.” Charles’ eyes read from the signboard behind the camera, his amusement wholly unscripted as he looks from you to Andrea and back to Carlos.

You honestly don’t know why you agreed to this. It might have been Lewis’ gentle persuasion or your boss’ overenthusiastic persistent voice, or the sleepiness that’s been wearing you down and boggling your mind lately, or—and it’s probably this—the fact that James ghosted you after Spain, because you “clearly have a thing with Sainz, and I don’t wanna be a homewrecker.” Whatever it is, you’re apparently a guest on the C² Challenge segment.

Today is a trivia game against Charles and Andrea, and you’ve all been given a general guide to what the questions entail—math, music, general knowledge, and one scripted Ferrari question at the end. The structure is fairly basic; each team member gets to answer one at a time, both contributing to overall points—and no coaching allowed, for some odd reason.

Charles is a little shit, so he’s made an off-camera bet: loser should treat winner to a round of shots at the next afterparty/get-together. And—who are you kidding, really—Carlos is also a little shit, so he’s game for the bet and has fired you both up to win, spouting Ferrari trivia in your ear should it come up.

“I got it,” you say snappily when he hasn’t stopped pestering you for five straight minutes. “I got it.”

“Oh, did you got it?” He asks sassily. “Okay. When did Ferra—”

“We’re starting in three,” says the cameraman in Spanish, Italian, then finally English.

He holds three fingers up and you hug your tiny dry erase board closer to your torso, readying your camera smile. The video—and the game—start off well enough, a quickfire competition developing between the two teams that infects you and Andrea quickly.

“Stay calm and collected,” Carlos proclaims, lips stretched into a proud smile. “Our team motto.” He elbows your side and you roll your eyes with a smile, teasing.

“I think it’s, ah, always—always cheat, mate,” Charles protests, pointing an accusatory finger.

“You are soooo—tch, I propose we kick Charles for poor sportsmanship,” retorts your teammate, laughing. The force of his laughter shakes the stool he sits on and you bite back a smile, remaining relatively quiet like you’ve been since the start of the video.

The remainder of the game passes with Carlos and Charles neck and neck, you and Andrea working overtime to make sure your teams don’t lose the bet. Eventually it boils down to one question, which Carlos is in charge of answering. Behind the camera, the producer raises a signboard and reads it out: We all know C². What is eight squared?

What a relief, you think. They’ve basically handed the win to you and Carlos on a silver platter. You wait, bumbling in your seat and raising an L sign toward Charles, who sticks his tongue out in response. Excitedly, you watch Carlos cheer for himself and finish writing, turning the board inch by inch until you all see the answer he has written on it.

Everyone stares. Then: “Team Charles wins!”

“Que?!” Carlos blinks, scandalized and a bit amused. He stares at the question then at his answer then, as if dreading the laser eyes, at you. Your eyes narrow, disappointed.

“Carlos. What is eight squared?”

“Eight squared. Eight, and you take another eight, and—it’s right here.” A tan finger points firmly at the number written messily, square in the middle of the whiteboard.

“Eres un tonto,” you quip, remembering bits of teasing you’d used on him years before. “Carlos, it’s 64. Eight times eight, not eight times two.”

“Ay, puta—” He shuts his eyes and laughs. “Lo siento! Sorry, sorry. Sorry! I cost us the win.”

Across you, Charles is coaxing a much more begrudged Andrea into a childish victory dance, pulling his arms up and down to convey the joy of winning. You sigh exasperatedly, but smile . For what it was worth, you had a great game anyway. The noise grows, and you watch the producers pack up, the cameraman parting from the camera for a moment to converse with one of them.

Left alone with you for a bit, Carlos lets his voice slip into a quieter one. “Sorry again. I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Your brows furrow, confused. “What?”

“That, you know”—he points at the lonely 16 on the whiteboard he holds—“it’s supposed to be 64.”

“Oh.” You laugh, a light sound. “Whaaat?! It’s not that deep, Carlos. Seriously, don’t worry about it. It was all fun.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” he says softly, smiling.

“Yeah, me too,” you say, unable to hide your smile. You stay like that for a bit, something blooming in the pit of your stomach you can’t—and refuse to—name.

—

You get two days off, and Charles had suggested you all go to Paris before you go to Cannes, where the Ferrari team is apparently expected for a meeting before Monaco. You’re the one who’d said yes first, even if Carlos seemed to hesitate; he had asked why, to which you responded you’d never been before.

You’d read about it, watched about it, and like every other human on Earth, seen pictures of it. But you’d never been to Paris; work placed you mostly in London, sometimes South America, other times Italy. But Paris was never a destination. So Carlos allowed the greenlight and you flew, with Lando, Pierre, and Esteban tagging along for shits and giggles.

“I’ve waited my whole life for my Eiffel Tower moment,” you say, not even trying to hide your wonder. Carlos got the best room for himself, but invited you in, for the view. He doesn’t tell you he went through hell and back to get precisely this room, so you could peek inside and see the tower.

“Well, you’re here now.” He wedges the hotel balcony door open and walks toward the railing. You follow suit, arms crossed over your torso, eyes stuck on the view. “How is it?”

“It’s as beautiful as I imagined it to be,” you confess honestly, eyes still stuck on the tower, the way it stands alone and glittering against the black of night. Cliché as it is, you feel like you’ve checked one huge box off your bucket list, staring at the landmark like it’s going to evaporate into thin air.

Beside you, Carlos hums in agreement, but his gaze is stuck on something else. “I know.”

“Oh, do you?” You laugh. “Are you in the business of admiring beautiful things?” You tease, looking up at the stars.

Sensing his eyes on you, you slowly avert your gaze until your eyes meet. The light reflects in his eyes, and they meet yours blindingly, beautiful, luring you closer. The joking tone of your words is caught in your throat, desert dry, your lips parted to spout words you’ve now forgotten, lost track of.

Your silhouettes dance against the lights of the city below, two figures admiring the other. His eyes flicker down to your lips, linger there a second too long. You stumble closer, your foot touching his. “…Paris.” The words struggle to leave but they do, quietly, an admission of guilt. “It’s always reminded me of you.”

“Not Spain?” He asks, leveling your volume. You’re closer, so close you feel his breath fan soft against your own face. His voice is deep, accented so thickly, the way it is when he talks with you because he falls into a familiar rhythm of knowing you’ll decipher whatever he has to say.

You giggle, a low, breathy sound. A barely there shake of your head. “I… love it so much, is why. Always have.”

Had there been a pedestrian across the street who looked just a few floors upward, they would’ve found the both of you there, smiling foolishly, blanketed by the night sparkles of the Eiffel Tower and the rest of the city. They would’ve seen the way Carlos leaned in, his eyes on yours and then on your lips, the way you nodded in silent, warm invitation. Come closer, you seem to say. Don’t stray any further.

A lock of your hair touches his jaw, from how close you two are. So close. Everything smells like him, like the musky woody perfume he wears, the detergent he uses. All of that, and everything underneath. The scent of him. Just him.

You hold your breath when you both lean in, eyes fluttering shut and waiting, waiting for his lips to meet yours.

The door shakes with several knocks, Lando’s voice seeping from the other side of it. “Mate, we’re gonna be late for dinner!” He says boredly, letting his fist collide with it a few more times for good measure.

Instantly, you and Carlos separate, both of you clearing your throats, rushed flimsy excuses escaping your mouths at the same time. You’re warm all over, the excitement, the nerves, tapering off into nothing as you walk back inside the room, busying yourselves with anything. Oh, I need to check if Jonathan’s emailed me. Oh, let me go answer the door.

Lando is waiting, expectant, on the other side when Carlos pries the door open. “Mate! Dinner! I texted you like twenty minutes ago and y—oh.” He spots you sitting at one of the lounge chairs in the room, and immediately his brows raise. “Hey, dude. You’re here?”

“Yeah, to, uh—to get Carlos to OK some edits,” you say with a smile, hoping your nonchalance isn’t too shaky. “I needed to get a draft in by three hours ago, so.”

“Oh. Right, obviously.” His eyes narrow a little, but he doesn’t relax much, gaze suspicious and a bit beguiled. “Well, if you’re not busy, we’re having dinner?”

“I’m good,” you decline, a touch too quickly. “It’s getting late.”

“Alright, well it was a courtesy invite, you dipshit,” Lando teases, and everything feels a bit more normal. You just flip him off, and Carlos retrieves his coat, eyes still not meeting yours when you all exit at the same time. Lando makes up for the hole in the conversation, droning on and on about the restaurant they’re going to, and how good it seems to be.

The elevator ride is equally charged, and you spend it humming and interjecting Lando’s words to come across as unfazed, even if you’re so totally not. Once you’re alone you finally let big exhales leave you. You don’t know if it’s from the anxiety of almost being caught, or the anxiety from the kiss unfinished.

—

LOVE the latest draft, Nick & I both. Could we get a deeper angle? Something re: regrets? Would really tie it together! Best, J

“Huh. Do you have any regrets?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from the short email. Next to you, Carlos nods his head slowly. You’re on the beach in Cannes, taking time off before the meeting and people-watching. Charles had joined you for a good half hour before leaving to sleep in the hotel instead, leaving you two to bask in the now setting sun.

“Everyone does, no?” He stretches a bit. The topic is tense. “But yes, I have some specific ones.”

“Like?” You ask weakly.

“I was stupid when I was younger. More immature, more forgetful. You grow older and you think of all the things you could’ve done right, years too late. There’s a proverb I heard once that goes—camarón que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente. It means to—to stay alert. Don’t let things pass you by.”

“And do you think you followed that advice?”

His eyes meet yours. “Do you?”

—

It’s quiet when Carlos walks inside your flat, and already his heart begins to drain, filling with guilt.

He steps over the creaky floorboard, notices your car keys on the table, your jacket haphazardly slung over the rack, your Chanel bag half-open on the dinner table beside an empty wine glass and a sweaty bottle of Cheval Blanc. The bedroom door’s half-open, light bleeding into the dark rest-of-the-place, and when he gently pushes the door to get in, the sight he faces is crushing.

“…Estás bien?”

You face the window, your back to him, in a beautiful, beautiful black dress. Your hair had been up, but it’s unpinned now, falling in loose, messy waves. You hiccup, and then tense. Feigning nonchalance, you croak out, “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he says honestly. “I didn’t know the thing was earlier.” His eyes hover to the glass award on the bed, one you’d hoped he would watch you receive tonight.

“I said I’m fine,” you say. “Just”—you sniffle—“it’s fine, Carlos, just get out.”

You’re standoffish, and cold, but Carlos knows you’re incredibly hurt. In an attempt to try and coerce a conversation, he stays. “Let’s have dinner tomorrow,” he suggests in a low voice. “On me. Right? To celebrate.”

“Leave me alone, Carlos.”

“I wanted to go,” he insists. “I had a meeting that ended late, and—”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” you assert, turning. You’ve clearly been crying hard, your face flushed and shiny, a few rogue tears still on your chin. “Just go.”

“I know how much this mattered to you.”

“And yet you didn’t go.” You sniff, wiping fruitlessly at your face. “Carlos, just…” Your voice sounds thin, heartbroken, worn with pain and real tiredness.

“Cut me some slack.” Carlos argues softly.

“No, I just… I don’t even know how things got to this point, Carlos. We used to be so much happier. But now, it’s like I have to demand for your time like everyone else does. Now, I—I cook, I plan dinner, I put my own career on the back burner so I can spend more time with you even if I’ve gotten calls, promotions that you don’t even ever… ever ask about, just everything. I don’t think… I don’t feel you love me that way. Care for me, that way. You’ve never shown it, not lately especially.”

“You should’ve told me,” he says, hurt.

“This kind of thing, it…” you shake your head, wiping your clammy hands on the black silk. “It doesn’t need to be said.”

“Let me make it up to you.” He steps closer but you’re quicker, almost stumbling in your rush to avoid him.

“No,” you protest, “just go, Carlos, just go. Get out and close the door.”

“Cariño—”

“Go,” you say, voice hard with contempt. You refuse to meet his pleading eyes. “Go, Carlos.”

So he does.

He passes by, again, your handbag, with the sleek travel-sized bottle of Santal 33 you keep with you always peeking out, and the Cheval Blanc he’d bought you a few months prior, and the jacket you’d bought with his approval almost a year ago. He lingers in his car for a minute, the rain pelting the Golf noisily.

He drives off, wiping tears from his own face.

And maybe, had he stayed a little longer, he would’ve seen you tearfully emerge from the elevator, into the lobby, then out into the rain, still in your black dress, and let yourself get soaked waiting for him to come back, refusing to believe he’d even let himself leave you so broken.

—

You play Uno to pass the time, your last night in Cannes.

He’s won two games in a row at this point, and you’re almost 100% sure he has a plus four card in his hand, so you play a bit more deliberately, eyeing him with a challenging glint in your eyes. You’re a bit watered down by your earlier conversation, but you feign nonchalance anyway.

Blue 2. Blue 5. Green 5. Then finally, he slaps it onto the deck—a plus four card. “Oh, come on, Carlos,” you say, almost actually irritated.

“I’ll kiss it better,” he says. Suddenly overwhelmed, you push yourself off the counter and storm out.

He follows you, stumbling into the empty balcony and softly shutting the door, voice still colored with laughter. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’d be so upset about the—”

You barely hear the rest of his clearly half-hearted, humorous apology. It doesn’t matter to you.

What does matter is everything from the years past crashing on your shoulders like debris, like rain, finally giving under the weight of being so close to him again. Everything. The tangled fog of your relationship, the start, the middle, the terrible end neither of you wanted. You pulsed with want, with yearning, with sadness.

So you ask yourself why? Why? Why? Why couldn’t he have come back? More importantly—why did he let you go so easily?

The truth is, you’ve drowned yourself in work so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel, to be felt. And if Carlos is doing this, all this, all the touching and the tension and the debris and the rain that crash on you like a bruising, torrential storm, for his own pleasure, like this is all a game, then you’ve yearned for nothing.

“This isn’t about the game, Carlos!” It heaves itself out of you in a half-sob, carried by the wind.

He stops—stops walking, stops smiling. Just stops and stares, brows knitted with concern. You refuse to look at him, staring instead at the skyline, arms crossed. The view blurs with tears, lights meshing together prettily.

He stutters your name out in a feeble response. It’s mortifying, the way you start to cry when it leaves his mouth.

You turn then, willing your lips to stop quivering. “Good for you,” you say shakily, “you can—you can fool around, kiss me like it’s nothing, pretend like we never even mattered so you can make jokes about how we’ve ended up here again, back, together.” You inhale, but it’s no use; you’re crying even as you speak. “And I’ll laugh, because it can be funny, you know, fuck it. But… I’m so—”

The wanting shows, in moments like this. Wanting love, wanting comfort, wanting warmth, an escape from work and stress and life. You know how it feels, to be loved. You’d been familiar with it, at some point. You want it again, the ache, the kiss, the pain of it all. More than that, you want him. For just a moment. But all this wanting is so exhausting.

You want this profile to be over. You want to pull him close and tell him how proud you are, but also how hurt you are. You want Spain. You miss Paris. Everything, everything, every memory, every single painful loving thing bursts inside you.

“—tired.” You nod your head, licking tears that have perched on your lip, smiling humorlessly, shrugging. “I’m—I’m tired, and lonely, and being around you makes it worse. Being around you hurts me. It hurts you. This profile was a bad idea, and I should’ve trashed this the moment I learned I’d be covering you. Because I knew then it would’ve turned to shit, and I was right.”

He stares, unmoving. He remembers, too. He’d tell you everything if the words clicked just right. But they never do; they tangle like cotton balls in his throat before he can kneel and name everything he remembers, everything he loved about the two of you. Cariño. Just be mine, tell me everything, tell me you love me.

You wipe a hand over your face. “Let’s just let this go already. You know, we really were good for a while. This… this is maybe just one of those things where we made it in another life, but not this one.”

At his returned silence, you nod, then walk quietly past him and back into the room.

It’s just as empty as you’d left it, dim and lit only by the warm light above the kitchen counter. Your forgotten Uno game lies on the same spot, beside the two empty wine glasses. You stare for a second. Life had been different when he’d lay down his cards just minutes ago.

A coat is tugged from in between couch cushions, your heels from by the door hastily pulled on. Every movement feels heavy, like sandbags are tied to your limbs, your tongue, your eyelids. You turn, one last time, to see the moment suspended in time—and you meet his eyes. Even across the room you feel like you’re drowning in them, dark and solemn.

“Wait,” he says, and even with just one syllable he’s managed to stop your world from turning again. “You’re right. Everything you said. When I’m around you, I hurt. I’m reminded of how awful I was then. It’s painful to be together.”

Eyes meet, eyes blink, eyes close.

“But you didn’t trash the feature. And I still enjoy your company. You could be covering Rafael Nadal or whoever right now. I could be in a jet to Japan. But you and I are here, are we not?”

Only you. It’s only you.

“I’ve missed you.” It rips through him. “I want to be here with you. I want to make the pain go away, so let me.”

“It’s useless,” you protest, tearily. “This won’t work. I’ll get mad, you’ll get fed up, I’ll get bored, you’ll put work before us.”

“Okay.” He paces toward you, nearer and nearer, closing the distance between you both. “I’ll make it work.”

“Carlos,” you weep, “I don’t know why you don’t get it. Life sucks. And all we get are little moments where things are… are good. So don’t waste the moments like this. Let’s not waste the moments on this.”

“You’re not a waste,” he says—and you crumple into his arms, worn, exhausted.

A knot in your heart is slowly unraveling itself. You’ve waited, yearned for so long, and finally you’re in his arms again, with the kind of quiet resolution only he would understand. You left the lights on for him. You’d do it again, but you don’t have to.

You bury your head in his chest, a chorus of apologies leaving him. I’m sorry, he says. I’m sorry, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Everything.

I love you, you say weakly. I love you, that’s enough. I waited for this to leave, but all it did was hide. The love has yet to pass. It never will.

—

“Yours really is the best selling one!” Nick pulls you in for a hug. “We have Nadal and CR7 on the roster, but Sainz’s is selling like crazy. Your writing is just—” He kisses his fingers. “You are amazing.”

“You flatter me,” you reply gracefully, letting him pull you into another embrace but prying him off a bit faster. You don’t need another Jonathan-esque freakout in the middle of the room.

The GQ party, six months later, almost a mirror of the fundraiser just a few months ago. Only this time, you’re not tacked onto Lewis, and you’re not buzzing with nerves (as much). You had run into Lewis when you entered, and Charles too, and Lando when he spotted you, but none of them are your plus ones to this event.

Your profile is the talk of the journalism scene. Nobody can shut up about it, and it thrills you, excites you, to be witnessing your work be recognized beside Carlos himself. He brings you a glass of champagne and presses a kiss to your cheekbone, smiling against it.

Neither of you notice Lando and Charles behind you, watching like hawks. The elder cackles, presents his hand like a sacrifice and turns to the Brit. “Aha.What did I tell you, chat?”

“Five hundred euros,” moans Lando, slapping a bunch of bills onto it. “You’re an intuitive prick.”

“Those two are soulmates.” They stare at your foolish figures, smiling like idiots, high-fiving even. “The kind that’ll always, always find their way back to each other. Always.”

Lando shrugs. “Hey, honestly, for once, I’m glad I lost a bet.”

“I look great on the cover,” Carlos says, both of you staring at the screen’s display of it.

“Shut up,” you smile, interlocking your fingers. “Well, my writing looks great inside.”

“Really does,” he says. “I’m so, so proud of you, cariño.”

“Proud of me?” You tease, staring up at him. “You made the last minute title change that caused fans to go crazy.” You both turn to stare at it displayed on the screen, smiling fondly.

Carlos Sainz—on racing, gracious defeat, and refinding love.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader

2K notes · View notes

mrchiipchrome · 6 months

Text

New Girlfriend

W.C. - 1.8 k

prompt 18. -Only I belong with you and only you babe.

prompt 20. -I hope you find peace for yourself, -New girlfriend ain’t gonna fill the void.

a/n: 1. I only know how to intrduce myself in Spanish, so excuse if it's wrong, 2. there's a list of prompts linked in my masterlist if you want to request:)

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

3 years. You had just spent three damn years loving someone who was willing to chuck all that away in a second. Three wonderful years tarnished in the span of a minute, just because she decided that you weren’t enough for her.

Just because Alexia decided she was bored, of you and of your relationship.

When she just a week ago told you that you were done, over text nonetheless, you simply couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Everything was going so well, she hadn’t given you any indication of being unhappy whatsoever.

When the shock passed, the despair set in. What could you possibly have done to warrant being broken up with that way? Had you really been that bad of a girlfriend?

The thundering crack of your phone screen hitting the floor marks your breaking point, curling up into a ball on the floor and sobbing until nothing more comes out.

You’re not even surprised that she doesn’t return back to the shared apartment you once saw as your home, now everything was just a reminder of her and how she’d been yours only seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks before.

And no matter how much you cry, how much secretly wearing her hoodies tears a hole in your heart all over again, you know that she’s not yours anymore. You’ll never feel her feather light touch late at night again, never feel her lips pressing against yours again, never feel her nails scratching at your back.

Her new girlfriend was so much prettier than you, kinder eyes, glossier hair, better lashes, bigger tits, rounder ass. How could you ever compare to that?

Seeing her face everyday at training had you close to breaking down in tears, every look into your favorite pair of eyes bringing you that much closer to the edge.

The only way for you to not fold in two every single second you spend in her presence, is to outright ignore her.

Something she doesn’t take too kindly to.

Dragging your feet against the floor, you’re instantly reminded of how Alexia used to chastise you for doing that exact thing.

All of a sudden, you can feel your shoulder being pulled on harshly. Stumbling back into the body of the mystery person, you can feel the familiar curves under your fingertips, her fingers clutching painfully at your shoulder.

“Can we talk?” She rasps out, staring into your eyes with an indescribable amount of venom. The way she was looking at you, you’d think you were the one who broke up with her over text.

“No” Pulling your shoulder away from her iron vise grip, she doesn’t even get a glance in her direction.

“No te alejes de mi Y/n, you do not walk away from me.” Her thick spanish accent covers the english words, the once charming zing of her accent now only making you want to throw up.

“There’s nothing to talk about Alexia. You broke up with me over text, you didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eyes as you threw away 3 years.” Now it was her turn to not look you in the eyes, turning her eyes down to the sidewalk.

“Say something then Alexia, that’s what you wanted to do right, talk.” You see how her lips move but no words come out, almost like she was expecting you to just lay down and admit defeat. Foolish of her.

“Good talk Alexia, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and, don’t forget to pick your things up from the apartment.” Turning on your heel, you feel her stare into the back of your head.

“Will you stop being so sour? I broke up with you a month ago, get over it!” She screams after you.

“Are you that far removed from reality Alexia? You think a MONTH heals your heart from being crushed?” You shoot back, in disbelief at her lack of knowledge of feelings.

“Dios mío Y/n, I hope you find peace for yourself” She tells you calmly, feelings spilling into her voice despite her attempt at composure.

“You do know that a new girlfriend ain’t going to fill the void right? She’s not going to love you like I do, like I did, she’s not going to be there for you like I was. When you realize that, you will come crawling back to me.” You spit back at her, equal amount of emotion in your voice as in hers.

When you turn away from her this time, you actually walk away from her and to your car, driving away from her and the argument.

That evening is spent drowning your sorrows in ice cream and Alexia’s old very expensive wine. She wouldn’t miss it, she’s got 1000 other things to worry about.

Foolishly, in your drunken stupor you decided that it was a brilliant idea to agree to a night out with the team…including Alexia.

The anticipation of that Sunday night created a lump of anxiety that sat uncomfortably in your stomach, growing like a balloon being blown up until it fully consumed you.

Foot tapping against the floor, you check your watch for the umpteenth time, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons on your shirt. You were sure that the loose button would manage to come off before Pina and Patri would pull up, the two planning on getting drunk beyond recognition.

Sucking your teeth, you accidentally bite down on your tongue when you hear the loud noise of the car’s horn.

“HOLA Y/N” Patri shouts in your face directly after you’ve sat down in the backseat, the young girl reeking of alcohol.

“Someone’s already started the party, ey?” You get out through a hesitant chuckle, Pina meeting your eyes through the rearview mirror.

Without much fuss, you all get to the venue, though the ball of pure anxiety was settling in your throat uncomfortably. The confidence you had only days ago was long gone, nervous picking at your fingers showcasing that.

When you stepped foot in that bar, the smell of alcohol and far too strong perfume hit your nose, overwhelming all your senses.

Yet everything seems to calm as soon as you catch sight of your ex, simply put she looked out of this world.

No, you tell yourself, I can’t think of her like that anymore.

“Y/n/n let’s go to the bar, I need something to drink!” Pina close to shouts directly into your ear, the young girl clutching onto your right arm like her life depended on it.

You let yourself be pulled along by the two younger girls, setting your body down in one of the barstools, Pina and Patri each hanging off your shoulders. They each order their drinks, waiting for you to do the same.

“Just a coke please” The bartender sent you a quick wink before moving away, Thing 1 and Thing 2 ohhhh-ing loudly.

“Your drinks ladies!” The pretty bartender hands you the glasses, your coke still in its glass container. Before you leave to join your friends, the woman slides you a piece of paper, her number written on it.

The blush stays on your face all the way until you reach the large table, ready to put your bottle down on the table. It seems like a certain someone was waiting for you to rid yourself off it before pulling you away from the rest.

“Hey, leave me alone!” You shout, not having seen the face of your perpetrator, but the nails digging into your arm gave you a slight indication as to who it was.

Next thing you know, you’re being pushed up against a wall, familiar lips locking with your own. Alexia presses her body up against yours tightly, leaving as small of a space between your bodies as she could.

Pulling your lips away from hers, you quickly wipe your sticky lips.

“Alexia, what are you doing?” The absolute disbelief in your voice makes her look at you like you were stupid.

“I saw how that fucking bartender was hitting on you, I had to send her a message. Only I belong with you and only you amor” She’s got a smug smirk on her face, looking back at the stunned bartender.

“No, Alexia, you broke up with me. You don’t get to do that because we’re not together anymore, I am not yours Alexia. I can date and fuck whoever I want, and you can’t do anything about that and it’s your fault.”

Walking away from her, like you’d done only days before, she once again calls out for you.

“You were right, she wasn’t like you. I have no explanation for why I did what I did, but I just want to apologise, it wasn’t…fair of me.” Her pauses between some of the words show how she’s truly trying her best to apologise.

“I want you back Y/n” You couldn’t even lie to her, say that you didn’t want to get back together, because it was the only thing you’d been thinking about these last few weeks.

Sighing, you look at your watch, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the doors. The cold evening air nips at your skin as you start to talk.

“You broke me Ale, and it’s going to take awhile to make up for that. If we’re getting back together then it’s on my terms, okay?” Alexia nods vigorously, she’d clearly do anything to get you back.

“Can I kiss you?” The timidness in her voice has you close to awwww-ing, leaning back against the brickwall while Alexia leans against the railing parallel to you.

Her intense gaze stays on you as you rest your head back against the cold hardened clay, exhaling through slightly chapped lips. The cloud that forms in the air presents the contrast between the warmth of your body and the cold of the night.

“That’s all I want” This time your lips lock in a calm dance, all the feelings of sorrow and longing being expressed in a single kiss.

"How about we get out of here?” Her hands lay flat against your chest, fiddling slightly with the material of your shirt. A slight chuckle escapes you, making Alexia look up at you through her eyelashes.

“Oh, amor I’m driving Thing 1 and Thing 2 home. I promised them I’d stay over at their place and take care of them after.” You kiss her hairline as she herself chuckles.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, she places her head on your chest, the vibrations of the tune you were humming sending her heart into overdrive.

“But we could stay out here for a while instead, I like having you back in my arms.” The only response you get is a kiss pressed to the column of your neck.

It would take a while for Alexia to get you back, it didn’t matter if it took 10 days or 10 years, as long as she got you back.

#woso #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

593 notes · View notes

petpenname · 1 month

Text

❤️‍🔥Red Wine Supernova❤️‍🔥

pairing: dealer!ellie williams x introverterd(f)reader c.w. smoking, drinking summary: modern college au, dealer!ellie x introverted!(f)reader, slow burn with some sad elements, inspired by Red Wine Supernova by Chapel Roan Parts: 1. I Just Want To Get To Know You 2. Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots 3. I Don't Care That You're a Stoner + Epilogue: Falling Into Me a/n: this ones long buckle up

Part Two

Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots

Music filled House 03 in each room as the girls got ready for that night's party. Olivia and Ivy share a room, blasting 2000’s pop throwbacks and club hits as they adorned themselves with low rise jeans and sparkles. Phoebe was playing 70s hits from the living room. Her and Daniel in matching bellbottoms, lounging on the couch pregaming already. Sage was in your room, as you struggled to form an outfit. Sitting pretty in her 90’s basement grunge attire, she questioned you about the night before.

Sage: “So she actually came over?! And you smoked with her! Look at you!”

“No, don't look at me! I don't know what to wear!” You say, holding up articles of clothing. “But yeah, she texted me while I was in the bath!”

“Oh, sensual,” Sage said with a wink. Seeing your distressed look she dropped the teasing and turned her attention to your wardrobe which was strewn across your room.

“What about those white boots! You could go as a go-go dancer!” Sage pointed at a pair of knee high white platform boots. You had only worn them out once but they were practically perfect for a 60’s themed look.

You picked them up, “okay yeah, but what do I wear them with?” “I dunno, a mini skirt?” Sage said laughing, she left the room to start pregaming and give you space to get ready.

You end up putting on a pink and orange plaid mini dress that fits your curves so perfectly. You opt to have your hair down and natural, pinning back one side behind your ear. A simple eye look to complete the look with a signature 60s line above your eye, in pink of course.

You stand in front of your full-body mirror inspecting yourself. You are usually confident in your looks but tonight you feel an extra form of confidence. Something about the spontaneity of last night after a grueling finals week.

“Hey y/n, you're almost ready?!” You hear Ivy shout from down the hall.

“Yeah! Coming!” You grab a cute white shoulder bag and put your go-go boots on. Grabbing your phone, extra lip gloss and taking one more look in the mirror before heading downstairs.

Your roommates are pregaming in the kitchen when you come down too hoots and hollers about how great you look. You return the girls compliments taking in everyone's looks. Phoebe hands you a shot and a lime and you all take one for the road. The walk to House 09 takes less than 10 minutes. You and Sage take up the rear of the group adventure.

“So are you going to see Ellie tonight?” Sage nudges you in the side playfully

“I don't know, probably, she said she would be here?” You are looking down to hide your obvious blushing. You had confided in Sage the most about your sexuality. Having come out as bisexual last year you've only had two girlfriends, which didn't end the best. You had a tendency to shut yourself away and you guess that didn't sit right with partners. But you also felt like they never respected your space. You decided to focus on yourself but sometimes, stoned, late at night Sage would get you to confess how lonely you were. You yearned for someone to love you, and for you to love them back.

“Wait, Sage, did you set this up or something like some blind date?” You remembered how Sage introduced Phoebe to Daniel and their relationship was solid.

“No dude!” Sage chuckled. “I promise, Ellie asked for your number, practically begged for it! And plus she's been dropping off to the house for months now, don't you think I would have set you up sooner if i thought about it?”

Ellie begged for it? Intrusive thoughts of Ellie on her knees looking up at you with those emerald eyes flash through your mind, making your heart skip a beat. You sigh, pushing the perverted thought away. “okay yeah i guess not, I don't know she seems cool, i hardly know her though.”

“Well get to know her!” Sage jumps ahead of you and turns down the path to H09, music already blaring into the street . You take a breath of air before following your roommates into the loud college party.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few hours are a blur of colored lights, dance music, and drinking. You don’t drink alot but you are also more familiar with the taste of liquor than smoke. So in the company of your roommates you take another shot and accept a mixed drink from Daniel, the designated bartender for the house.

“Do you guys want to go dance?” Ivy shouts over the music

You all exchange nods, leaving Phoebe with her boyfriend at the makeshift bar and head to the living room to dance.

Whatever was in your cup tonight let you let loose a little more than usual. You worked up a sweat dancing to hits from the 50s to the 2000’s. Before you know it the room was getting a little too hot and you were a little too out of breath. You gestured to Sage to get her attention,

“I'm going to step out back for some air!” you say fanning yourself, still stepping to the beat

“Okay girl! Do you want company?” Sage responds over the music

“No no keep dancing! I'll find you guys!”

“Dont Irish Goodbye on us again y/n!” Ivy points and dances in your direction. “I'll come find you if you're not back in twenty minutes!” she blows you a kiss.

You laugh, “I won't leave! Promise!” Dancing your way out of the mass of moving bodies you head through the house and out into the back yard. The cool air instantly gives you a sense of relief as the commotion from inside gets muffled by the closing door. You choose to sit on the porch steps, staring up at the sky and you start to look for stars.

Due to the light pollution you are only able to see a handful of stars at the moment. While you are looking you hear the back door open and close. Glancing over your shoulder you see none other than Ellie step outside, face flushed and hair slightly damp clinging to her neck. She wore a white tank top, blue flannel and blue jeans, the same dirty converse from last night.

“Oh hey whats up cutie! You made it!” Ellie says when she catches your eye. She fumbles over to you and sits down next to you, letting out a sigh. “Oh my god it's hot in there, yeah?” “Hey, yeah it is” you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. She called you that name again. You both avert your gaze from each other, a beat of awkward silence before Ellie says, “you want to smoke with me?” and pulls out another immaculately rolled joint.

“Only if you tell me what decade you're supposed to be dressed up as?” you joke, looking her over. Most of the guests had gone all out with their fits.

Ellie chuckles “Whichever decade that supplies this party with weed.”

“Sooo 90s?” You say as you watch her face light up as she sparks the joint.

“Sure let's go with that” she exhales, turning her body towards you, with one leg bent on the deck and the other stretched out down the steps. She leans towards you slightly as she hands you the joint.

“And you are…. No don't tell me…. 70’s?” Ellie guesses as you take a drag from the joint.

You let the smoke out as you giggle, “no! 60’s! I'm wearing go-go boots” You stick a leg up and gesture to your boots

Before you could think Ellie reaches out and touches your boot, sliding her long fingertips, from the ankle up to the top. “Oh wow, yeah now i see them” flicking her eyes from your leg to make eye contact with you.

Your ears become hot at the sudden contact and you put your leg back down, take another puff before handing it back. There are those flutterings, they are much lower tonight.

“Wow and you're smoking more tonight! You're like a totally different person than who I met yesterday.” Ellie jokes as she takes the joint and leans back on her other hand. “Miss never goes to parties”, she teases.

Still feeling her gaze on you, you can't bring yourself to look at her so you look back at the night sky, leaning back on your hands. “Don’t get used to it, this is my one outing of the semester.”

“Yeah me too, honestly.” Ellies tone turns a little serious as she too looks up at the night sky, taking another drag of the joint and using it to point.

“The Big Dipper should be right there, you can see the start of it, but there's too much light to see the rest.”

“Mhmm” you hum, “I wish i could see them all, I could in my hometown.”

“Yeah me too” Ellie says, “Do you want another hit off this?”

You look back down and the simple motion of your head moving in space brings your awareness to just how fucked up you are. You know alcohol takes a bit to have an effect but you have also never drank and smoked together.

“No, thanks, ugh I'm feeling a bit light headed.” you say.

“Oh shit” Ellie puts out the joint and flicks it away, “Do you need some water?”

“Yeah that would be cool, I just need to catch my breath” You say as cooly as possible.

“Okay stay right here!” Ellie gets up and is gone in a flash,

Your head is spinning and you grab onto the railing for some stability, willing yourself not to throw up in this back yard. Deep breaths in and out help you regain a bit of your strength and feeling. You hear the backdoor open and shut as a few pairs of feet hit the deck.

“Hey, hey girl you okay?” Sage is next to you with a glass of water, you take and sip it slowly.

“Hey dude yeah, i'm good, I don't know if i'll go back inside though.”

“Yeah that's understandable, did you smoke too?”

You nod, and take another sip of water. Sage gives you a sympathetic look through her own blood shot eyes.

“I'll walk her home” you hear Ellie say, who you realize had been standing behind you the whole time.

Sage looks up, “oh yeah, I mean if you don't mind? You cool with that y/n?

You finish the water and hand your cup back to Sage, “Yeah, you stay Sage, tell Ivy I'm sorry for leaving again”

“Sure babes, and hey it's not an irish goodbye if you say goodbye!” She helps you up and says bye to Ellie and you before going inside.

“Are you sure you're feeling okay?” Ellie turns to you, a look of worry on her face.

“Yeah I'm feeling better now, I just have never smoked and drank together before.”

Ellie laughs, “damn what are you a virgin too?”

Such a direct joke caught you off guard, “uh no, i'm not.” you say defensively, turning away feeling your cheeks flush.

“I'm kidding, I promise! Sorry, come on let's get you home hun”

You curse yourself for being so quick to defend yourself, you were actually quite experienced, at least with your own body. You just didn't know exactly how to express that to your partners.

Ellie led you out the back garden gate holding it open for you, you felt her hand cup the small of your back as she guided you to the sidewalk. You let her hand rest on your waist as her warmth warms you up in the cool night air.

“Are you going to go back to the party?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Nah probably not, i dont really hang out with a lot of people. I just go to sell.” Ellie responds matter of factly.

“What about your roommate?”

“Oh Dina? She’s with Jessie, I love hanging out with them but I have the dorm all to myself tonight!” She gives you that stupid sideways grin again

You smile back at her before looking forward, feeling a bit nervous realizing how close you two were walking. Her hand still on the small of your back, and her index finger tracing small circles, like she was nervous too.

You walk the rest of the block in silence and she walks up to your front door, stepping away from you before saying, “You sure you're okay to be left alone? I feel like I need to see you drink another glass of water.”

Maybe it was the joint, maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the feeling deep inside of you wishing for someone to be close to you again. You missed her warmth. Either way you find yourself answering before thinking

“You could just come in? I'll drink a glass of water to prove I'm good!” You hold a hand to your chest like making a royal promise.

Ellie chuckles, scratching the back of her neck and looking down, “Oh shit, yeah sure, I’ll come in” Did you just make her nervous?

“Cool” You say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You enter the house, flipping on a few lights and tossing your bag on the table.

“I have to get out of my shoes first!” you exclaim, taking a seat, suddenly out of breath again.

“Here allow me!” Ellie says, skipping to your side and kneeling down, before you could protest she has your right leg in her hands, inspecting for a zipper. “It's on the inside” you laugh at her willingness for chivalry, pointing at the zipper on the inside of your ankle.

“Inside huh?” Ellie said in a tone that made your stomach flip. She finds the zipper, pulls down and slides the boot off your leg. Revealing fuzzy pink socks adorned with a Kirby embroidered at the top. Holy shit you forgot you had those socks on?!

“Oh my god Kirby!” Ellie laughs, “I didn't know what socks to expect but i dont think these were it.”

“What's wrong with kirby?” You counter teasingly, the alcohol giving you some courage post sock reveal.

“Nothing! I just feel like i'm finding out little crumbs of information about you”, Ellie laughs again, “You're like a puzzle, or a riddle? I just want to get to know you.” she looks you in the eyes when she says that.

That last sentence felt so personal. You sat back in silence as Ellie removed your other shoe, revealing a second, pink kirby sock. She looks up at you and you realize she's on her knees, in front of you. Did you dream this into reality? How did such a pretty girl just fall into your life like this? You almost lose yourself in her eyes before she speaks again.

“You still gotta drink water for me, pretty girl.”

You nod, as she rises from the floor and looks around for the kitchen. Rising too and guiding her in the dim lit kitchen you grab a glass of water and return to stand in front of her to drink it. Finishing strong with a sigh and a smile, you set the glass down on the counter and turn to her.

“All done” you say

“Good girl” Ellie says with a smirk, staring into your eyes. Your stomach does a flip again, she is way too comfortable calling you pet names.

Like magnets the two of you slide closer until you are inches away from each other in the dim kitchen light. Both of your breaths hitch as you watch Ellie's eyes dart from your eyes, to your lips, and back up. You swear you could stare at her like this for hours, but you wanted nothing more than to closet the space between you two.

*DING DING*

The ring of Ellies phone sounds off in her pockets, startling both of you away from the tension boiling between you.

“Ah fuck what now” Ellie says under her breath. She quickly checks her phone and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuckers need more weed at the party. I should probably let you get your beauty sleep huh?” She says, shoving her phone back in her pocket.

You involuntarily let out a yawn as she makes the suggestion and you hide your face from her gaze. Partially from the yawn, mostly to hide your disappointment “yeah, I should probably sleep this buzz off, I'll walk you out?”

“Sure thing” she says.

You both head for the door, Ellie lingers a bit, swaying side to side before saying bye and dipping fast down the steps. You say bye and close the door behind her. Stealing yourself upstairs to take off your makeup and outfit. A quick self care routine later and you are passed out in bed.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ellie lights a joint in frustration as she walks out of H09. She really didn't want to go back there but ended up staying another hour because Jessie and Dina guilted her into drinking more. Thoughts of you swirl in the girl's head as she makes the walk to her dorm. Your eyes, your legs, your lips, your kirby socks. Ellie laughs to herself, and pulls out her phone.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up the next morning with a headache. Checking the time on your phone you're shocked to see you slept in until 11!

You have a few unread messages:

Ellie: want to meet for coffee? Ivy: I made pancakes! Sage: how can you have so much energy all the time? Be right ther Olivia: shhh sleeping

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Meet for coffee??” Sage said, mouth full of pancake. You and your roommates are sitting around the kitchen eating room-temperature pancakes and discussing the night before.

“That's what she said?!” you say, pouring some syrup over your breakfast.

“Well are you gonna go?” Ivy asks from the pantry

“I mean, yeah? I should, right?” “Only if you want to girl” Olivia say beside you

“Oh she wants to” Sage says with wink in your direction

“I do!” You say blushing, “I'm just nervous! The last times we interacted were so spontaneous. And this is like, she's asking me out!”

“It's just coffee babes you'll be okay! Its casual” Olivia says with a reassuring rub on your back

You smile at your roomates as you pick your phone up, responding to Ellie

y/n: “Okay :) when?”

30 seconds later you receive a text;

Ellie: “Sweet :), 1pm at the cafe?”

y/n: “I'll see you there!”

You smile at your phone for sec before your roomates all join in on a group “oooooooooo”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1pm comes fast. After breakfast you help clean then retire to your room to shower and get ready. It's a little chilly out this morning so you opt for a chunky sweater, comfortable wide leg pants, and sneakers. After checking yourself in your mirror and in Sage’s mirror, with her approval and luck, you head out the door.

The walk to the cafe felt like it took forever. You become hyper aware of yourself, your outfit, anxieties bubbling up in your mind as you try to stay calm. You round a corner and can see the cafe now, and something in you stops you in your tracks.

Memories of your past relationships flash in your mind. How hurt you were, how misunderstood you felt. Being lonely was familiar but it always stung when someone left your life. You will yourself to take a chance, your roommate’s comment in your mind for comfort. You’re just meeting for coffee, it's casual. With a deep breath, trying to gain some confidence you continue forward. You open the door to the cafe stepping in, warm cinnamon and coffee bean scents fill the air while a lofi beats track plays over the speakers. You look around and it takes you just a moment to find Ellie sitting at a table in the corner. She has a baseball cap on, looking down so she didn't see you come in.

You take in her appearance while walking over. She's manspreading comfortably in dark green cargos, a gray t-shirt, a black zip up hoodie and black converse. You knock lightly on the table to get her attention, startling Ellie who shoots up, almost knocking her chair over behind her.

“Hi there” you say sweetly

“Oh y/n! Morning! Er afternoon, hey” She composes her surprise and smiles at you to sit down. “I got you a coffee!”

You realize there are two coffee cups in front of you on the table. Ellie slides one over and you see your order written on the side in black ink. Medium mocha, with half chocolate. She remembered?

“Oh wow thank you! Do I owe you anything?” you ask, accepting the drink.

“Of course not,” Ellie says leaning back, “I just made it before I finished my shift.”

You take a sip of your coffee, and set it down, taking in the girl sitting before you. You realize that Ellie looks exceptionally tired, she has bags under her eyes and her lips are slightly crusty. She seemed to have energy, although that must be from the caffeine she's been having throughout her shift.

“Did you have a good night?” Ellie asks, breaking your fantasy

“Oh! Yeah, i just passed out after you left and slept so long” You laugh, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good you got your sleep, I wish I did, i forgot I worked this morning and got woken up by my boss calling me” Ellie sighs and sips her coffee

“Oh shit, we don't have to hang out if you're tired?” You say, secretly wanting to invite her back to yours to cuddle up and watch movies. But your body does not allow the thought to come out.

“No! I want to hang out! I actually wanted to show you something, if you're down?” Ellie asks

So many thoughts fill your mind with what this thing could be. Your curiosity is endless and quickly leads to images of Ellie pulling toys out of her backpack.

“Yeah sure, I'm not doing anything today” You say, leaning forward on your hand with your elbow on the table. Searching Ellies expression for any sign of what her intentions were.

Ellie just gives you a big grin and leans forward too, flashing her eyes from yours, to your lips, and back up. Instantly you're reminded of last night, you hadn't even thought about your almost kiss in the shadows of your kitchen. You feel your ears going hot and instinctually pull back to drink your coffee, hoping your eyes didn't display any of your shock from the memory.

“Sounds good, if you're ready we can head out” Ellie suggests, keeping her eyes on you.

You nod and swallow, “sure, ya” you say, your voice a little quieter.

Ellie rises from her seat, grabbing her coffee, waits for you to rise and follows you out of the cafe. “Here follow me!” she says when you two are outside, pointing behind her. You skip up to her side and follow her through campus. Making small talk, asking each other about your coffees & the weather. You realize that Ellie is leading you into the College neighborhood, the street that you live on.

“You want to show me the street I live on?” You ask, laughing because as far as you know, this street is a Dead End. And you have been to that dead end. Maybe she was bringing you to a house?

“I mean yes? And no, we are going to the end, there's a spot over there.” Ellie says, taking another sip of her coffee

You were pretty sure the dead end was fenced off with a thick forest behind it. Not being very adventurous you had never thought to explore past it. You and Ellie walk the length of the block, passing other college students. You approach the end of the street, the sidewalk seemingly ends and you wait to see what Ellie will do.

She turns around to face you, “Do you trust me?”

“I have no reason not to you” you giggle, “you're not going to murder me are you?”

“No! Oh my god, come on, this way” Ellie smirks and nods her head to the side of the street.

House 10 was the last house on the street, and there was a thick hedge that ran the length of the house and the fence. Ellie walks you over and the perspective change reveals about two feet between the hedge and the fence. Ellie slips into the gap and takes a few steps before making sure you are following. You're right behind her, and comment “there are no spiders right?”

Ellie laughs, “dont worry ill scare them off. It's not too far.”

You walk maybe 10 feet between the hedge and fence before Ellie stops and crouches down. Ducking through a large hole in the chainlink fence and popping up on the other side to face you. “Here hand me your coffee!” she says, sticking a hand through the hole.

You hand her your coffee and crouch down to do the same, almost slipping on a few leaves on the ground.

“You good? Here you go” Ellie hands your coffee back and says “i promise its not far now, just through there.'' She walks into the forest. There's a makeshift trail probably formed by other students exploring back here, and you follow her for a few minutes. Listening to the sounds of birds and wind through the trees, you start to hear the sound of running water. The trail winds around, sunlight flashing through the leaves onto Ellies auburn hair. You can't help but get lost in her figure. Your mind trailing off to things too embarrassing to say, you have no idea how long you've been walking. Ellie turns around flashing you a smile, breaking you away from your bedroom thoughts.

“Its just up here! Come on!” She picks up a bit of pace, excitement getting the best of her.

You follow her around another corner and see a pretty amazing sight. Large concrete structures from half of a building, overgrown with vines and graffiti painting the crumbling walls. There are steps leading up to a large concrete platform with two walls in the back. You take a sec to take it all in, Ellie bounds up the steps, turns to you and puts her arms out framing the scene.

“Ta-daaaaa! What do you think?”

“This place is so cool!” You say, following her up the steps and looking more closely at the graffiti. You read “smoke em if you got em”, & “JC’11” probably from a Jackson College graduate. One catches your eye, it's smaller and closer to the ground. A black heart with red lettering that says “girls kissing girls”.

“Ya, right.” Ellie looks around with you at “her” spot -atleast she likes to think she's claimed it. “I found it a few months ago, I come here pretty often but don't really bring anyone. I don't want everyone to know about it.”

“Yea i can understand, its peaceful out here” you respond, focusing your attention back on her

“And you haven't seen the best part!” Ellie walks across the platform to the other side, where the other wall is missing. You follow her and realize that the water you heard had gotten a bit louder since you tuned into it. As you approach the opening in the wall you are perplexed with the beauty you see. A small waterfall cascades over moss covered rocks, flowing into a stream only a few feet wide and away into the forest. All the stars aligned for the sun to shine the most on this spot in the forest. The foliage was lush, moss covered all surfaces, and tiny flowers and mushrooms dotted the scene.

“Yeah, it's pretty great, my own secret hiding spot.” Ellie beams, stretching her arms behind her head, trying to be as casual as possible.

You looked in awe at the scene and Ellie looks in awe at you. Taking in your features, your soft lips, your beautiful skin. She wished she could capture this image of you forever in her mind. Never had she taken someone here before, but as soon as she met you, she wanted you here, with her. And there wasn't anything she wanted to do more than to kiss you.

“This is so beautiful” you say, “want to sit down?” You say turning to her, blushing at the strong eye contact youre met with.

Instinctually Ellie takes off her hoodie, stepping back and setting it down on the ground for you and her to sit on. You are able to see a large tattoo on her forearm, looks like a fern? You both position yourselves on the makeshift blanket, with your legs hanging over the side of the ledge.

“Do you want to smoke? I haven't since before my shift.” Ellie says after a moment of silence.

“Oh yeah, sure! But if you keep smoking me out and buying me coffee i'm going to have to make it up to you!” You say with a smirk, playfully nudging her with your elbow.

“I'll take whatever you give me,” Ellie says as she takes out a joint box from her pocket. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the possibilities of what your ‘repayment’ could be.

You take the lit joint from Ellie and you two make small talk about the graffiti and nature surrounding you. Conversations turn more personal when you ask Ellie about her family. You learn of Joel, and the farm back home where Ellie spent most of her time shying away with her journal and guitar. Ellie spoke about coming out to Joel in highschool and how he was one of the only people who supported her through it. Her hometown wasn't the most accepting so she did not have many friends let alone relationships. You share your life too, realizing that you and Ellie have more things in common than you thought. Your family came around after a year or so of coming out but you only ‘came out’ to friends and the public when you moved to college. You had a boyfriend in highschool that ended badly and 1.5 relationships with girls since coming out. You say 1.5 because the first one was really a situationship that ended with the girl deciding she was straight.

At this point the joint was dead and tossed in the brush. The sun was drifting behind the trees, casting a cool hue across the forest.

Ellie and you listen to the stream in comfortable silence for a second. The joint is settling in nicely and bringing all your hidden thoughts to the surface. You wanted to kiss her, touch her. Your fingers are a mere centimeters from each other and you could feel the electricity through your whole body.

Suddenly Ellie takes a breath, like she had been holding hers for a second. “CanIaskyousomething?” she says, in almost all one word.

You turn your body to her, leaning forward slightly on your arm. “Anything” you say.

“I know… i know we just met, but, you’re really pretty and I was just wondering… canikissyou?

She rushes the last part but you hear clearly and your heart skips a beat. Ellie turns to look at you, searching your face for anything you're feeling.

You're lost in her eyes again, your mind screaming yes but all you can do is nod at her, doe eyed and longing to feel her warmth.

Ellie breathes in looking at your lips before she leans forward, cradling your face in her hands and setting her lips on yours. The kiss is hot, passionate, slow but needy as your combined lust mixes together right there in the forest. You feel like hours have gone by before you separate, looking into eachothers eyes, a line of spit connecting both your lips. Ellie looks like she's even higher than the joint made her and you can't help but giggle a little before going in for a second kiss. This time your hands go for her, brushing through her hair and grabbing at the nape of her neck.

Separating for the second time ellie breathes, “wow, that was… wow”

You hum in approval, untangling your hand from her hair and resting it on your leg. You're both breathing a little heavy, lips tingling and palms sweaty.

Ellie feels a buzz on her thigh and pulls out her phone to a string of texts, all from buyers hoping to make their Saturdays better.

“Ah fuck, im sorry, i wish we could stay here longer but, work calls…” She says with a sigh. She wishes she could stay here all day with you but Ellie was a business woman, plus she had been saving up for a few things and was so close to meeting her goal.

You laugh, wanting to stay with her too, but you are getting hungry, probably from the joint. “That's okay, will you walk me back to the house?”

“Of course doll” Ellie says with a smile, making your already hot face burn with desire. You both stand and after grabbing her hoodie and coffee, without asking Ellie grabs your hand and begins to lead you back out of the forest.

You walk hand in hand down the street in comfortable silence. The touch shared between you said more than you two could manage at the moment. You are submerged in your feelings and barely notice you getting to the walkway in front of your house.

Ellie stops and turns to face you. Giving you a kiss on the back of the hand she says, “have a great day beautiful, i'll be thinking of you.”

You linger your hand in hers for a moment, blushing, mind blank but you know you need to respond. “Thanks for today Ellie, i'll talk to you soon.”

You start backing up the walkway, both of you not wanting to separate from each other's gaze. You both give one last little wave and you turn to walk into the house.

Sage greets you from the couch, seeing the look on your face she jumps up and runs to hug you in excitement. Bringing you over to sit with her as you tell her about your time with Ellie. You feel this could be the beginning of something beautiful. Although hesitant to get close to someone again, you feel right with Ellie. You can’t help but imagine what life would be like with her.

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

a/n: AHHHHHHHHH thank u sm for the love :3 I'm actually so excited for part 3... might even open submissions for other fandoms? idk I'm just having fun! Tag List: @vqxen @bready101 @sourgummywormsss @a-little-bit-of-everybody

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #the last of us

262 notes · View notes