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nereidprinc3ss · 14 days

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do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

shit happens

spider squad x platonic!reader

request?: yes

request: “Okokok, first of all CLASH WAS SOOOO GOOD OMGGI come bearing a request only if u want to. Teen!spider!reader who is Miguel’s favorite because they don’t cause him trouble. But it’s only because they get severely anxious when they break rules (I’m not projecting, you are). So he assigns them to go on a mission with the problem children hoping they’ll rub off on them, but the problem children just corrupt them. I just need more spider children being chaotic together and tired spiderdad MiguelMwah mwah love ur writing )pls only write this if u feel like it)”

requested by: anon

word count: 2k

genre: platonic

Warnings: language, anxiety, Miguel being unrealistic with his expectations, electrocution, spider squad gettin thrown around

A/N: omg wait no bc same HAHA as someone with diagnosed severe generalized anxiety i get so anxious to break the rules even though my spirit always tells me to lol, i hope you enjoyed this anon! thank you for the request :)

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You were the golden child. There were quite a few teens in Spider Society, but you were by far Miguel’s favorite. And that’s all because you did what he said. Now did that mean you never questioned his authority? Of course not, you questioned him all the time. But you were too nervous to go against him. You were too nervous to go against anyone. It’s proven a problem in your job since the police are not your biggest fans, but luckily you befriended a nice police captain who eases your fears every now and again. Your weekly visits with Spider-Therapist have been helping with the problem, too. Which is great for you. But you still did what Miguel said. Mans could be scary.

And that’s how you ended up here. With Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales, and Pavitr Prabhakar. There was an anomaly that needed taken down in Hobie’s world, and Miguel stuck you with the four of them. To say you were nervous was an understatement. “Right, so anyone got a plan?” Hobie asks, in his thick accent. “What? What do you mean, dude, we’re in your world,” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “So? Not my villain, dunno ‘ow to stop ‘im.”

“Okay, well we know that he’s an electro variant, so… what can we do with that?” Gwen asks, and Pav sighs. “Be electrocuted,” he says sadly. “Miles can handle that,” Gwen says, and Miles snaps his head toward her. “Miles cannot handle that! Why are we saying Miles can be electrocuted?!” Miles yells, and the other three shush him. “’ow ‘bout you, mate, any ideas?” Hobie asks you, and you shrug. You look around before pointing up to the water towers on the roofs of the multiple buildings in New London. “Water,” you suggest, and they all look where you’re pointing. “Smart,” Gwen says with a nod. “How do we get the water to him, though?” Pav asks, looking at you again. You frown. “I… actually didn’t think that far.”

“Well, ‘at’s, easy. We just bust ‘em. Get ‘im to fly near one and,” Hobie makes an explosion noise and uses his hands to imitate an explosion. “What? But what about all the people who will lose water?” you ask, and Miles cocks his head to the side. “It’ll get fixed fast, probably. It’s our job to fuck shit up and then have other people fix it cause if we don’t fuck shit up, shit gets fucked anyways,” he says, and you sigh. “But Miguel said to try and not cause too much of an issue—”

“Oi. Who gives a flyin’ fuck what ‘e said. Not me. And this is my bloody world, I’ll cause as much damage as I want to,” Hobie says, and you look down. “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, mate,” Hobie says, and you mumble another ‘sorry.’ “You know what? I think Electro can wait a minute,” Hobie says, turning towards you, “More important matters to figure out ‘ere.”

“Like what?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Why are you so nervous?” he asks, and you gulp. “I-I’m not, I just—”

“You definitely are,” Gwen says, and Miles throws in a ‘yup!’ with a nod. “Is it us?” Pav asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. “W-What? No, that’s not it,” you say, waving your hands in a frantic way to say no. “I just am nervous in general. It really isn’t that big of a deal, guys, we should be focusing on—”

“Nope. You’re not gettin’ outta this, you been in ya ‘ead this ‘ole time.”

“I’m always in my head, it really isn’t that big of a deal—”

“Is ‘at why you try to avoid everyone? Don’t talk to no one?” Hobie asks, and you gulp. “I-I talk to some people…” you mumble, and a small frown forms on Gwen’s face. “The therapist in Spider Society doesn’t count,” she says, and you look down. “Well, why not…? He’s a person...”

“Because he’s like 40, and you’re our age,” Pav says, “you’d get along better with us, bro.”

“Miguel said that if anyone could make us not as ‘moronic’ it would be you, but I feel like he just kinda takes advantage of you instead of recognizing the pressure he puts on you. I have some experience with that,,” Miles says, and you sigh. “He scares me, okay? If I break the rules then I might simply pass away from him yelling at me,” you say, and Hobie shakes his head. “Love, the rules are all bollocks. Made by people who just wanna control your life.” Gwen nods. “Miguel is cool, sure, but if anyone can get away with anything… it’s you,” she says, and Miles chimes in. “And if you’re really that scared, remember he literally chased me around his world and destroyed a train because of me. You’ll never piss him off to that point.” You stay silent, playing with your fingers. Pav reaches out and grabs your hands. “Rules are meant to be broken, (Y/n), I learned that from Hobie. And besides, the villains we face are the biggest rule-breakers imaginable,” Pav assures, and you nod slightly. “And rules are such rubbish. ‘ey’re always different anywhere ya go. Try not to put so much weight on your mind ‘bout it, breakin’ ‘em ain’t a big deal,” Hobie says. You do actually kinda feel better. Hobie brings up a good point. Rules are different everywhere you go, so breaking one every now and again isn’t that big of an issue. In fact, it can be kind of encouraged. “Besides, breaking rules is almost like challenging ideologies, you know? Like, in breaking a rule, you challenge a system in place that is telling you not to break them. No one likes that. Where would we be if people didn’t break rules?” Gwen says. “That was deep,” Miles says, and Pav nods. “'at was a wicked way a’ puttin’ it, Gwendy.”

That’s a good point, actually. You think for a bit. If you look at it as challenging a system, or even doing what’s right, who’s to say it’s a rule that shouldn’t be broken? Hobie smiles underneath his mask because he knows they’ve gotten through to you. “So, whaddya say we go blow up some water tanks, eh?” Hobie stands, rubbing his hands together. “Okay,” you say. Gwen and Miles fist bump, and Pav does a little clap. The five of you jump into action, immediately starting to taunt and lure Electro to get him close to the towers so you can douse him and put him out.

The plan was going pretty well for the first two attempts, but he eventually catches on to what the five of you are doing. Which makes it harder. Miles does, in fact, get electrocuted. As does Gwen and Hobie, and coming in as no shock to anyone, Miles is definitely the least affected. You were able to dodge all of the attacks. “You’re doing great, (Y/n)! Mind telling me how the fuck your spidey sense is so strong?!” you hear Miles yell. “MILES LOOK OUT!” Gwen screams, but it’s too late. He gets electrocuted again. “Ouch, bro! That one looked like it hurt!” Pav yells, and Miles, who is now lying face down on a roof, raises his hand up in the air, flipping him off. You snort, and then see Hobie fly past you, landing on another water tower. “Hey! Dumbass! Over here!”

“Oh, please. You expect me to fall for that? I know what your little plan is, and I’m not about to be put out,” Electro says, firing some electricity out at Hobie. Unluckily for Hobie, it breaks the water tower and electrocutes him and the water that pours out of it.

You land next to Hobie, who is now just laying on the rooftop, but he grunts and mutters some British slang that you wouldn’t understand even if he explained it to you. So, you know he’s fine. “I have an idea,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we need to make sure no one is on the street.”

“What’s the goody-goody plannin’ on doin’, huh?” he says, standing. “You’ll see, just make sure there are no civilians or anyone who will get hurt. And keep him distracted.” With that, you leap and go to another one of the water towers. You take a deep breath, thinking back to what Miguel said before the five of you left.

“Try not to destroy the city while you’re at it. (Y/n), I trust you’ll keep them all in line,” Miguel said, and you timidly nod. You’d love to not destroy the city, but it’s so hard doing that as a Spider-Person. But you also don’t want him to yell at you for going against his orders. Now you’re conflicted. “No promises, Miguel. We’re gonna do what we gotta do,” Miles says and Miguel sighs. “If anyone can reign the four of you in, it’s this one. Don’t let them pressure you into acting up, okay?”

You frown. Fuck that. Miguel is pressuring you into not doing your job right. You can’t always be perfect and careful. And lucky for you, the four of them were really good at distracting villains. You web two of the support legs, yanking them and breaking them off the water tower. It starts collapsing, but you catch it. “Shit, you’re heavy,” you grunt, but regain your balance, holding it on your shoulders. You twist your body, ripping the other supports off and making the water tower completely free. You get Electro in your sight and take a deep breath. You lift the water tower, tossing it up in the air before leaping out of the way and towards Electro. You shoot webs from both hands, connecting them to the water tower and yanking it towards you. You swing it around, connecting it with Electro’s body. Sure enough, it knocks him down and explodes on impact, drenching him. And you. And Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pav; but hey, you did it.

You land on a roof and look down. Sure enough, Electro is knocked out cold and completely out of electricity. You swing down, placing him in one of the technological cells that Miguel developed specifically for Electros, and nod. “That… probably could have gone better,” you mutter to yourself. Your self-deprecating thoughts were cut off immediately. “That was AWESOME, (Y/n),” Gwen says, giving you a thumbs up and hug. “Yeah, little Spider, that was bitchin’,” Hobie says, giving you a fist bump. “You made it look so easy! How did you do that, you have to teach me!” Pav says, clearly excited and impressed. “You were out here talking about how you didn’t wanna break rules so instead you broke an entire water tower? That’s cool, why don’t you try being less cool next time for the sake of us,” Miles says giving you a pat on the shoulder. You smile. “Thanks, guys.” Their praise was enough to make you feel better for completely and totally wreaking havoc.

But when the five of you return, soaking wet, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said… to not destroy the city…” he mutters, looking at you with disappointment. You look down. “City’s still standin’, mate. (Y/n) kicked ass,” Hobie says, and the other three make sounds of agreement. “Y-Yeah, Miguel. All I did was break one water tower, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say, and he sighs. “One? You all broke four water towers on four different buildings! And you flooded an entire street! You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Dude. I’m a teenager. Shit happens,” you say, a sudden burst of confidence from being around the group of four allowing you to speak out. Miguel puts his hand on his jaw, sliding his hand down. “Remind me to never team the five of you up again,” he mumbles, and Hobie elbows you. “Nah, we’re a band now. Sorry ‘bout it,” Hobie says, motioning everyone to leave Miguel’s sight. You all follow. When you’re out of Miguel’s office, Hobie bumps your shoulder. “See, that wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

He was right, it wasn’t that bad.

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#spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderpunk #spidergwen #hobie brown #gwen stacy #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar

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jamminvroomvroom · 4 months

Text

something in the orange.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando can’t always have what he wants. and neither can you.

i’m so back! missed u xoxo i kinda hate this with a passion but i had to force myself to write something bc i was getting the writers jitters lmao. pls tell me what you think and what you want next! hugs

inspired by: something in the orange by zach bryan (ouch)

songs to set the mood: call out my name by the weeknd, all of evermore actually, leave the door open by the silk sonic

warnings: 18+!! minors, BEGONE!! smut, angst, wee bits of fluff, language, alcohol mentions, inappropriate workplace relationship (reader is an engineer @ mcl), slight age gap (r is older), mutual pining, mutual denial (kinda), unprotected sex (L bozo)

3.2k words

the first time it happens doesn’t really count.

you’re drunk and lando’s worse. tensions boil over at some after party, neither of you can bare it, and he’s shoving his key card into the slot of his door while he sloppily kisses your neck. you cannot take

any responsibility for your actions that night and disregard it as a write off.

explaining away the morning after, when you fuck him again, sober and begging, is a different story.

oh, well.

it happens again. and again, and again, and again.

different cities set the mood and the danger turns you on. you trade your mclaren administrated work shirt for lingerie, and your inhibitions for good sex.

he’s younger, just a couple of years between you, but he doesn’t show it. he makes you forget it, every single time he rearranges your spread limbs on a mattress. he makes you forget his age, and the fact that careers will be over as soon as another soul finds out what you get up to when the chequered flag falls.

lando makes it easy. a flick of the wrist and a curl of the tongue makes you sob, and he smirks into the crease of your thighs every time. and when it’s over, and you’re both spent under linen sheets, you can’t even regret it. not when he makes you laugh until you cry and keeps you warm as you drift off to sleep on the rare occasions that you let yourself stay.

it can’t continue. it can’t, you tell him and yourself. every morning after is punctuated with promises that this is the end. and every time, you manage without each other until the next race weekend, when he looks at you in that knowing way that makes your thighs clench.

lando can’t think straight.

he never can when he slides between your thighs. it feels like home.

you’re somewhere in the middle east, he can’t actually remember where right now, not when he pushes deeper and you clamp down around his cock, so hard that he chokes out a shaky breath.

“how do you feel even better every time?” lando groans, grinding into you nice and slow.

you slur out a moan in response, tipping your head back even further as you do. it gives him the perfect opportunity to burrow into your neck, kiss over your collarbone, rock into you harder.

everything is warm, slick. this whole situation, it’s a well oiled machine now. lando sends a text and you turn up five minutes later. he ushers you into the room and then, clothes leave a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. what was once a place holder, a way to get some after a shitty race, had become something to look forward to, something that made his heart race. the anticipation, the danger of you made him weaker than he ever had been.

at first, he hated the hold you had on him. it didn’t mean that he could end this, though, not when he couldn’t help but stare at you in the garage. not when he was transfixed by the glimpse he’d get of your collarbone under your work blouse, or the stray hairs that fell over your face when you were concentrating on the data screens.

“lando, i need- i need…” you gasp, trailing off as you arch even further into his sweat glistening body.

lando smirks, sliding a hand down your

body, pinching your nipple on the way. he already knows what you need. he finds your clit, teasing over it a couple of times.

you lock eyes, warning him to give you what you want. he just grins, licks his lips and continues faint glides over the bud. it sends shockwaves over your body, and you convulse underneath him. you writhe, and writhe, and whimper and keen as your orgasm washes over you. his eyes snap shut, barrelling into you as the pleasure hits.

then, there’s silence.

he lays on top of you while you both return to planet earth, no sound but pants of breath and a soft hum from you when he finally pulls out. you smile softly when you rise from the bed, swinging your shaky legs over the side to stand.

“you staying?” lando breathes. he’s laying on his front, arms flexed as they cross beneath his head.

“not tonight, lando.” you tilt your head apologetically, voice soft and sweet. he frowns. you ignore it, and search for you underwear.

“come on, stay.” he sounds desperate to his own ears, cringing at the way the words come across, but your filter it out. you’ve become an expert at navigating - and more often than not, ignoring - the emotional strings that he tugs on. the ones that attach to your cold, cold heart.

“can’t. you’re gonna have the team here bright and early. ‘m not risking jon seeing me here when he comes to wake you up.” you explain, jumping into your jeans as you tug them up your legs.

“he won’t care.” lando argues, childlike in his negotiating.

“i care.” you scold. you hear the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows. you know you’ve won this round.

lando’s quiet for a while after that, letting you dress yourself. as you’re searching for the bag that you can’t remember if you brought or not, he springs from the bed, making a beeline for the door. you think he’s being gentlemanly, but quickly realise you’re being foolish. the fucker is blocking your exit.

“lando.” you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, unimpressed.

“i know, i know, i’m gonna let you go. i just…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, pondering his next words.

“you just…” you usher him along.

“i’ll let you go if you promise to have dinner with me over the summer.” he smirks.

“are you… have you lost the plot?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

he tried this, sometimes, tried to get you to go on a date, or get you to do something alone that didn’t involve engineering or a surface that you could fuck on. you’d naively thought he was past this.

“can we just try?” he gives you a look somewhere between i want you so bad and the infamous lando norris puppy dog eyes. lava heats your cheeks and your belly, and the butterflies come out of hibernation. you couldn’t deny, you wanted to try. but, at what cost?

“text me.” you murmur, gesturing for him to move.

“so, that’s a yes?” lando questions.

“text me, and i’ll think about it.”

he decides that he’s gotten the best possible answer out of you, and finally let’s you make your great escape.

you almost collapse on jelly-like knees the second the door shuts behind you. standing your ground with him was getting too difficult, too tiresome. the boy was hard fucking work, and he always got what he wanted.

you’d often daydreamed about him taking you out, getting dressed up nice to sip wine and eat too expensive food, and eventually getting undressed. you realised, however, that those kinds of thoughts were to be banished, after you got caught up in fantasies during a race and almost had the pit crew put mediums on during a bout of rain.

wanting him was dangerous. it could be career ending, reputation destroying, heartbreaking.

one date wouldn’t hurt, just to satisfy his appetite. he’d probably get bored eventually. you wouldn’t let it get further than one meal, one last night with him, and then it would stop.

one more time. just one.

you’re waiting on your sofa for the text that tells you he’s arrived.

your hair is curled, messy. just how he likes it. you’re wearing something short and black. your high heel taps against the floor as you bounce your leg nervously.

he’d texted, just like you’d told him to, and then a date was set. just one dinner, one time only. you were gonna tell him that, too.

it’s a bit of fun, you think. dinner and shag. companionship. it was lonely on the road, and sometimes each other was all you could have. it made sense, you figured, that he had honed in on you. you’d done the same to him.

just when you think he’s late, there’s a knock on your door. you were an expecting an “i’m here” text, not the full package. after all, this date was just a formality, right?

you try not to shake as you make your way to the door. lando looks so good that you almost cave and say, “sure, let’s give this a go, eh?”. he’s wearing a shirt that fits painfully well, clinging nicely to a delectable frame. the buttons he’s left undone provide a gorgeous window to his collarbone and the necklaces that hang from his thick neck.

“you look beautiful.” he compliments, rakes his eyes over your body.

“don’t look so bad yourself.” you try to tease but it comes out flustered. you ignore the way his eyes light up.

“you ready?” he asks, you nod.

your heart flutters when he effortlessly takes your hand in his.

the restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the only two people dining. maybe it’s because of the ‘closed’ sign that gets placed on the door when you arrive. so, he’s gone all out, you think. you’re shocked at how hard he’s tried to keep this private. maybe this isn’t the formality you think it is, maybe this isn’t his way of feeling better about meaningless sex. maybe it wasn’t as meaningless as you pretended it was.

he had you belly laughing within minutes, laying the charm on thick. wine and conversation flowed effortlessly and you were quickly regretting saying yes to this. you were in danger.

in a moment of silence, you catch his eye from across the table.

“you know, this is a one time thing, right?” you almost whisper. you almost kick yourself, why would you say that now? it doesn’t even phase him.

“that’s what you think.” he grins, devilish and stunning.

“i mean it.” you smirk.

“sure you do, honey.” he says, it sounds a lot like ‘game on’.

you stir, eyes slowly fluttering open. orange light washes over you, dancing in the pair of eyes you find staring back at you.

the eyes watching you sleep belong to the same person whose strong arms are wrapped around you, nice and secure.

you croak out a good morning, and he grins at how hoarse you sound. it was all his fault for making you whimper and scream, begging and crying for a release.

the date had gone really well.

“coffee?” lando offers.

“just the one, need to get home.” you bring things back to reality.

two coffees and four orgasms later, you head home.

the blurry pictures of you and him leaving the restaurant make you ill.

no one can quite tell it’s you, not yet anyway. twitter is ablaze.

faceless accounts call the blurry woman in the pictures the cruelest of names. you cry for hours, and then you stop for a bit, cry some more. rinse, repeat.

you pull on a jacket, scramble for your car keys. this time, you’ll mean what you say.

there’s a knock on the door.

when he opens it, you shuffle inside like you always do, coat hangs on the hook with a scarf to match. silence lingers until you reach the kitchen. the kettle hisses. you didn’t even know that he knew how to use one.

“this has to stop.” you say. emotionless. inside, agony sinks into every emotional cut and scrape. you don’t let him notice.

“i know.” he agrees. he’s seen the pictures, too. “okay.”

the kettle is forgotten, two mugs abandoned; he carries you to bed.

one last time.

two fingers loosen you up for him, drawing you steadily over the edge. he doesn’t stop there, no. he slows right down, letting you ride out your high, but only for a second. he speeds up once again, grinding his fingers into you at godspeed, and you feel your eyes dampen with tears.

your entire body glistens with sweat and your release, the overstimulation making your toes curl and your back arch. you wonder if the tears streaming down your face are just a result of the way his fingers are curling so deliciously against your walls, so good that it hurts, or if it’s because you know this will be the last time he gets his hands all over you.

“lando,” you cry, grasping at nothing. he’s got you naked in the middle of his bed, and he’s still fully clothed, kneeling between your spread thighs like a man on a mission.

his motivation is to make you stay, to make you regret the fact that once this is over, you’re choosing not to come back. his need for you, that raging desire that fuels your every encounter, it has only increased tenfold since the night of your date. but lando isn’t stupid, he knows that after those photos were published the brakes were on this… thing. this was his only chance to convince you to keep this going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“what do you want, honey? you want me?” lando grunts, speeding up even more. you didn’t think that what he was doing was humanly possible, but the stars you saw and the way your body was practically levitating off the bed said otherwise.

“only gonna have me one last time? is that really what you want, baby?” he continues to run his mouth, crooning over you. you call out his name, begging. begging for another release, begging that you could stay here forever. with him.

and then you see white and god, and you convulse until you’re collapsing into the mattress. your vision is blurry from the tears and the haze and the unwavering emotional torment.

you grab at him, languidly pulling him in. it takes all the strength you have left to secure him, your feet shoving his jeans down his hips while your hands rip his t-shirt off. you’re keening, too sensitive and too needy. you’re agonising over his touch, you need him to sink so deeply into you, so that you can feel him when it’s over and you’re far away from what almost feels like home.

his breath shakes and his eyes gloss over when he pushes into you.

“let me stay like this, just for a minute.” he chokes out. you nod rapidly, your eyes squeezing shut. he kisses into the crook of your neck, panting and mumbling sweet, painful words over and over.

your hands run over golden planes of warmth and muscle, memorising every dip and crease of him. he slowly rolls his hips and your belly clenches, veins set alight. one of his hands scoop up up your wrist, and the motion creates a deep grind unlike anything you’ve ever felt. your wrists are pinned above your head and lando hovers over you so that he stays level, continuing that slow grind, hips hitting yours hard and slow.

he draws a low whine from the back of your throat, one that makes his hips stutter and your pussy clamp down on him as a pleasurable result. you can feel fingerprints forming around the tender skin of your wrists and you want him to dig in harder, slip into your veins and become a permanent part of you.

lando’s eyes are greyer than you’ve ever seen them, boring into your own. you don’t think you ever break eye contact, staring deep into his soul as he stretches every possible part of you. he doesn’t want this to end, you can’t pretend that you do, either.

he changes his angle slightly, long strokes replacing the short drags, but he keeps hitting deep. something possesses you to lean in, as much as you can given his hold on you, and you capture his lips in a kiss that takes him aback for a second. he melts into it, though, and then you’re chest to chest. tongues meet, and moans meld, your legs snake around him like vines.

“need you to come for me, honey. one last time, yeah? need you to feel good for me, baby.” lando mumbles into your mouth, wet and hushed. it’s overwhelming, and everything goes blank. all you are aware of is the burst of pleasure, his hold on your limp wrists, and two grey green eyes that are begging you to stay.

you get dressed quickly, whisper goodbye, and disappear out the door. something stops you, and you need clarity, for him more than for yourself.

you peek round the door, finding his unwavering gaze. your forehead creases, awkward anguish. the way you’re looking at him, deep and sympathetic, it makes you ache. this may well have to be the last time you look at him this intently. it stings.

“it’s better this way, you know?” you murmur.

lando nods, begrudgingly, yet obediently in defeat.

and then, once more, you’re gone and the latch on the door clicks somewhere far away in his apartment. he sinks into the bed, drowning in bed sheets and agony. his head thuds against the pillow and he stares out the window. the orange sunset makes his eyes burn. there’s something about the colour that makes him nauseous now that you’re gone.

a few days later, you’re in a meeting that you can’t focus on. he’s sat opposite you, not that you spare him a glance. it’s too painful.

you’ve been here for hours, your body becoming one with the office chair that you’re sinking deeper and deeper into.

yes, the car needs to be faster. yes, your heart hurts. yes, we need to up the strategy game.

you zone out, for the umpteenth time, losing yourself in the dark orange sky. it’s getting late. you crave sleep in your lonely bed. while you stare at the swirls and hues of warmth, you shiver.

lando, on the other hand, hasn’t heard a word said since he sat down. not when his eyes instantly find bruised wrists on the other side of the table. they match the bruises on his heart, the ones that you’d left behind when you’d grabbed it, stolen it from its solitude cage.

he watches you watch the sunset, and then the meeting is dismissed and everyone rushes home for dinner.

“who was that you took for dinner, then, noz?” one of the mechanics jeers at lando as you’re leaving the boardroom. those damned fucking photos would never let you sleep well again.

you’re a couple of steps ahead of them, ears perked up. you’re nauseous.

“no one you know.” lando laughs uncomfortably, waving it off. he sounds exhausted.

you fight with the revolving door and rush to your car. you scream as soon as the door slams and you’re in the drivers seat. you thrash against the steering wheel, and then you scream again.

when you compose yourself, and pull out of your parking space, you notice lando’s range rover ahead of you. when you get to the end of the drive, he will turn left, towards london, and you will turn right.

the devil on your shoulder murders the angel in cold blood, silencing the only voice of reason you had left.

when you reach the junction, you turn left, too.

yikes. anyways lmao

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane

removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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astroph1les · 7 months

Text

catching up [h.c]

summary: after you made out with hazel in the closed space of her dorm room, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it or her. at a study session, brittany invites the group along with her to a sorority party. hazel declines going as do you. this was your opportunity to get in more ‘lessons’ on what exactly you’ve been missing out on.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, smut including — fingering (r! receiving), heavy praise kink, dom and sub dymamics, aftercare, jealous!reader, brittany highkey being reader and hazel’s #1 supporter, hazel is a boob girl, more of cocky!hazel bc she’s hot as fuck, fluffy ending.

word count: 5.4K

a/n: y’all ate up falling behind so here’s part two of hazel showing you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.

You’ve always been one to zone out during your and Isabel’s study sessions. It was usually because you all of a sudden began to think of the most random questions or what your life would be like if you were rich.

Now, Hazel was overtaking every single thought that crossed your brain. That afternoon in her dorm room shouldn’t have been as mind-consuming as it was.

It’s only been two days. Two fucking days and Hazel has ruined you.

Her touch was imprinted on your waist. When you got dressed and undressed, you imagined her removing your clothes instead of you. Your body craved her touch in ways that made you feel embarrassed if there was anyone who could read your mind.

And that damn hickey.

It’s at the deepest shade of red and purple, according to Google, because you researched as soon as you left Hazel’s room that day. Isabel hadn’t seen it nor did she know about you and Hazel’s make-out session. You had thrown on the college hoodie over your plain white tee. You were lucky that every single room on campus was below freezing.

You felt bad not telling her as throughout your stay here on campus, she’d become one of your closest friends. But you know how she would’ve reacted if you told her you had made out with your crush just for ‘practice’.

Suddenly, you felt a pencil thump your forehead, causing you to pull yourself out of your crowded thoughts. You held your forehead for a moment to feel over where the eraser hit you.

“Oh my god, what was that?” You ask Isabel from across the table. The two of you were seated in the campus cafe.

“You have not blinked for two minutes and I was getting scared,” Isabel replied with a worried chuckle. “What is going on with you? You never let your iced latte sit there for so long.”

You glanced at your clear plastic cup, noticing the condensation that was forming on the outside. She’s right. Usually, there would just be ice with the tiniest bit of coffee left over for the next hour that you would be studying with Isabel.

“Nothing is up with me. Bel, I’m fine,” you assure her with a forced grin.

Her pretty green eyes narrow at you, clearly not believing a word you were saying. She flips one of her two pig-tail braids over her shoulder before folding her arms in front of her chest, squeezing against her baby pink lace cami and Josie’s gray zip-up.

“Who is it?” Her voice was accusatory as she glared in your direction.

Your eyes widened for just a moment before scoffing.

“What are you talking about?” You sigh and begin to write down notes for your history class.

“I can tell when you’re crushing.” Isabel chuckles, reaching forward to sip her hot coffee. “I’m kind of glad, honestly, because who knows how long you’ve been crushing on Hazel.”

You let out an awkward chuckle along with her. Flashes of images of Hazel’s heavy lips on yours and how she kissed and sucked on your neck came flooding in. You could feel the heat rushing up to your ears and neck. Suddenly, the hickey was becoming very itchy.

You had to tell her.

“Isabel, you’re right. It is someone. I,” you sucked in a deep breath and rubbed your hands over your bare face. “I made out with Hazel two days ago.”

Isabel’s eyebrows raised and her eyes widened at your confession.

“What? Why?” Isabel’s face held a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You open your mouth to explain to her what exactly went down but out of the corner of your eye, you see PJ, Josie, Brittany and of course, Hazel entering the barely occupied cafe. You held one hand up to your temple, muttering an ‘oh, god.’ Isabel noticed the sudden switch up in energy and slowly turned her neck to look behind her, spotting the group.

“You’re telling me about this later,” Isabel stated with a smile as she raised a hand to wave over her girlfriend.

Josie’s elated smile grew when she saw Isabel waving at her and she jogged over to the two of you. You noticed Brittany glance at Hazel before the faintest of smiles spread across her face. You knew exactly what the brunette was thinking and you wanted to disappear into the hoodie at the sight of Hazel.

She was ordering at the register; the cashier was blushing at whatever Hazel was saying. You wanted to vomit. Josie came up behind Isabel’s chair, gripping onto the back of it.

“Hey, babe. You wanna sit with us?” Isabel tilted her neck back to look up at Josie.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll go and let everyone know.” Josie smiled softly down at her girlfriend before placing a kiss on her head.

Your eyes follow Josie’s figure trailing back to the group. She mutters the question to everyone and Hazel instantly cranes her head in the direction of you and Isabel. You don’t even have time to divert your eyes and pretend you didn’t see her as she locks her gaze on you.

Hazel grabbed her cup from the counter and a cheese danish she had gotten on the side, adjusting her tote bag strap. You subtly try and fix your hair, sucking in a deep breath as you watch the group approach. Hazel wore a white crew neck with black stitching and a pair of dark gray Levi’s.

You wanted to roll your eyes at how good she looked. Of course, she had to round the table right next to you when there were a few more open seats elsewhere.

“Hey,” Hazel grinned, her tone kind and friendly.

You couldn’t even attempt to be annoyed with her as soon as she looked in your general direction.

“Hi, Haze,” you breathe out with a smile, twiddling with your pen in hand.

Way to keep your cool, dumbass.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is that on your neck?” PJ nearly shouts as she sits on the other side of you–the side where Hazel had made that hickey.

Everyone turned their heads towards you with furrowed brows. Brittany sat on the right side of Isabel while Josie sat to the left of her. Hazel glanced at Brittany who just smiled to herself, pulling out her own notebook from her bag.

Their little glances were driving you insane.

“Who is giving you hickies?” PJ taunted with a chuckle, nudging your shoulder. “I thought you were celibate.”

“None of your business and I have never once said that I was celibate.” You give PJ a warning look before going back to writing, hoping the girl would leave it alone.

“Maybe not celibate verbatim but I remember your breakdown just last week about giving up on dating forever.” Josie decided to join in, making your skin crawl.

“Guys, it's none of our business so let's just change topics, please,” Hazel spoke up before you could snap at both PJ and Josie.

Your head turned to Hazel, nodding to give her a silent ‘thank you’ for speaking up for you. She merely smiled back and patted your thigh as a reassuring gesture before lifting her coffee to her gorgeous lips. You keep your composure as you had expected her to remove her hand to not draw suspicion to you both. Instead, she kept it there.

Hazel squeezed your thigh once just for good measure.

“Oh, do you guys wanna come to a sorority house party tonight? Stephanie from my metals course invited me and said I could bring friends. It’s supposed to be, like, super fun.” Brittany spoke up, her eyes bouncing from person to person.

You look up from your paper when you hear Josie, Isabel, and PJ agree to the party. Hazel’s hand left your thigh and felt like you could breathe again, rubbing at her neck with a shrug.

“I don’t think I’ll go this time, guys.” Hazel takes a bite of her danish as everyone starts to question her. “I just don’t feel it tonight. I actually got shit to do.”

Isabel’s eyes were digging into you at what Hazel had said which caused you to frown. Hazel thrived in those types of scenarios. Who knows how many drunk sorority girls had experimented with her?

“Wha— Hazel, you’re my pass to sorority puss.” PJ huffed.

“Maybe you’ll get some if you stop calling it puss, PJ,” Hazel retorted, snorting at PJ’s words.

You zoned out of the rest of the conversation, focusing on how Hazel was going to be alone tonight. Or at least, you were hoping she was going to be alone. ‘Shit to do’ could easily be some other girl she had managed to seduce easily just by being her naturally charming self.

Maybe tonight is the night to ask Hazel for some more ‘lessons’.

Isabel had helped you pick out a cute yet comfortable outfit. Your white tube top that you brought out on rare occasions and a dark blue jean mini skirt with pockets that didn’t even work. You took a risk and left your hair in its natural state. It was rare for you to leave it down as it was hard to manage otherwise.

But you felt good, sexy even in this outfit and you had every intention to do something with Hazel tonight. You even shaved from head to toe which might’ve been overdoing it, but you felt more confident that way.

You close your eyes and suck in a deep breath as you prepare to knock on the door. You haven't heard any moaning so you assume Hazel is by herself. You knock on the door three times, bouncing on your Converse-covered feet anxiously.

The heavy door swung open to reveal Hazel in a white tank top and green sports bra, a pair of faded olive green sports shorts clinging onto her bottom half. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, leaning one of her arms against the door.

“Hi.” Hazel’s smile spreads onto her face, tilting her head to the side as her eyes follow up and down your body.

“Hey,” you reciprocate her smile, clasping your hands behind your back. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course, honey. Come in.” Hazel stepped aside to open the door more for you to walk in.

You step into the familiar environment, scanning the area to see a candle lit on her and Brittany’s shared bedside table. The way the rest of the room was only lit up by said candle illuminated an almost seductive element to the area.

“I thought you were going to the house party?” Hazel asked as she shut the door and locked it. Her eyes fell on the round of your ass in the skirt, rolling her bottom lip in between her teeth to hold back the groan that was threatening to escape from her lips.

You really were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Uh, no. Parties aren’t my thing, but they’re usually yours,” you point out, turning to face her. “Why didn’t you go tonight?”

Hoping you’d come by. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“I wasn’t in the mood for partying.”

You simply nod, not wanting to push any more on the subject as you lean on the end of her identical bed frame to yours. Hazel furrows her brows and folds her arms over her chest, inching in closer to you. Your confidence shrank because of her close proximity.

“Why are you here, honey? Hmm?” Her voice was low and inviting, a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

“I wanted to see you,” you admit, hands gripping onto the wood nervously. Your gaze flickers from her eyes to her cupid’s bow. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to teach me something else.”

“Like last time?” Hazel hummed.

“Yeah but just… more.” You explained awfully, nerves getting the best of you.

Hazel nodded as she stepped in between your open legs. Her hands rest on your jean-covered waist, your hips pushing up into her touch. God, you had missed her hands.

“Do you get off often, honey?” Hazel asked, throwing you off guard for a moment. Her thumbs rub the strip of your newly exposed skin as you sit on the foot of the bed frame.

You shake your head, looking at her with a sheepish smile. “Not really, no. I try when I have time or feel like I’m in the mood. But n-no, no. I don’t.”

“Okay, do you feel like you know how?” Hazel tilted her head, squeezing your hips once before continuing the soothing rubs.

Again, you shook your head, not elaborating that time. Hazel’s sharp gaze and sweet words caused your panties to pool with your arousal.

“I can show you.” Hazel’s voice was so low, it was borderline whispering.

Your brows raised and eyes widened with hope, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Really?”

Hazel’s lips curled into that signature smirk, staring directly at your lips shamelessly. You were wearing this shimmery gloss that Brittany had lent you after the group's study session.

“You look like an angel, honey.” Hazel compliments you with that look that you’ve seen Isabel give Josie numerous times.

She was horny, too. You could feel it and you wanted her now. You’re elated by her sweet words and your mind is already fogging over.

“Can I kiss you?” One of her hands leaves its spot at your waist to cup your cheek.

You nod with a soft ‘yeah’ before she leans down to capture your lips onto hers. You tilt your chin up to follow her lips, your hands releasing the wood to hold onto the back of her neck.

Both of her hands grip onto your waist, the rings covering her middle and ring fingers indenting into your skin. You gasp as her tongue swipes past your bottom lip but she doesn’t slip it in like you had hoped. You whine softly, looping your fingers under her chains to pull her in closer.

This causes Hazel to pull away with a hum, looking down at you with hooded eyes.

“Still getting too eager, huh?” Hazel teased, gripping and tugging your hips in closer to her crotch. Her roughness only made you wetter; you needed her to touch you now.

“Haze, please.” You look into her eyes, hoping she will do something soon.

Hazel pecked your lips a few more times, releasing your beautiful hips to walk around you to the bed. You turn your neck to follow her body and watch her sit on the bed, legs out like last time but more spread out.

“C’mere, baby. Sit up against me.” Hazel motioned with a small smile, her eyes trailing up and down your body as you stood up.

You blushed sheepishly and made your way to sit on the bed. Your mind echoed the way she called you ‘baby’ and how it made your desperation for her grow even more, if that was even possible.

Hazel doesn’t hesitate to take it into her own hands to tug you by your waist to sit in between her legs. Your back was against her chest, her cold chains and her mullet-rocker hair brushing up against your exposed back and shoulders.

“Are you comfortable?” Hazel’s hands were rubbing up and down your shoulders to rest at your upper thighs.

“Yeah. What are you going to do?” You question softly, your hands resting on your lap.

“Well, help you be able to make yourself cum, yeah? That’s what you want, right, honey?” Hazel’s head was next to yours, her chin resting on your shoulder.

It annoyed you not being able to see her. That is until you saw her closet that was right in front of the bed. A full-body mirror hung on the back of one of the doors. You could see the shadowy view of Hazel’s face, her cocky smirk flashing you through the reflection.

Were you into mirror sex? The sight of you up against her, chest panting and legs spread to see your best pair of panties clinging onto your wet cunt. Hazel’s palms were holding your legs open, eyes locked on your flushed face and chest.

“Is the mirror okay? I can take it down if you’re not—“

“No!” You interrupt her, your hands flying to hers that were on your mid thigh. “I like it. I like being able to see you.”

Hazel smiled at how open and honest you were being. For being as inexperienced as you were, you weren’t doing as bad as you thought you would be. Hazel made everything feel easier.

“Are you flirting with me?” Hazel teased, digging her nose into your neck where the hickey was.

You let out a soft giggle at the feeling of her lips brushing along the mark. Her lips replaced her nose within the span of five seconds. Your eyes focus on the mirror, watching as her lips gently kiss the darkening spot.

“How’s the hickey feeling, baby? Talk to me.” Hazel questioned as her hands were running up and down your sides.

“Normal. It feels fine.” You tell her truthfully, the way her tone made your pussy pulsate.

You wanted her to talk to you that way forever. The way every word was dripping in lust sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“We’ll talk about it another time, yeah? Let’s focus on you, baby.” Hazel’s palms trailed to the front on the ribbed tube top, her fingers right underneath your tits.

You push your chest forward into her touch, growing ‘eager’ as Hazel’s called you before. So what if you were eager? You were a virgin getting manhandled and groped by your crush who was about to teach you how to get off.

“Before you get off, honey, you have to tease yourself, okay?” Hazel’s lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Be gentle.”

You nod to show that you were paying attention. Her hands that were brushing past your underboob creep to your nipples that were stippling through the fabric of the tube top. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering but not closing just yet. Her fingers slip underneath the bottom of the material to tug it down ever so slightly, exposing more of your chest to the mirror.

“This is cute.” Hazel smirked against your skin, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you reply, eyes locking on her hands through the mirror.

The thought of other girls going crazy over seeing Hazel in the reflection just as you did made your stomach turn with jealousy. You know it's happened and you were only hurting yourself more by pondering on it while you were with her.

She’s not yours.

“Hey,” Hazel whispered, furrowing her brows. “You with me? Kinda spaced out there for a second, honey.”

You blinked twice before nodding, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, yes. I’m sorry.” You apologize, now suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Hazel was quick to make sure you were feeling comfortable. “You’re doing good.”

The praise made you preen and turned your mind to mush. It didn’t help that her hands were slipping underneath your tube top to lightly grope at your tits. You hum at the feeling, the cold rings adding to the sensation. Your head rolls onto her shoulder as she runs her thumb over your nipples.

“Look at the mirror for me.” Hazel instructed, removing her hands from underneath your top.

You did as you were told, gaze locked back on your reflection. Her hands were trailing up to the top of the tube top, fingers digging into the fabric to tug it completely down. Your tits are exposed now and you feel vulnerable.

A good, exciting vulnerable.

“You are just beautiful everywhere, huh?” Hazel hummed as she took both of your tits into her palms, her bottom lip rolling between her teeth.

You thought your tits were alright. Nothing seemed that special about them but Hazel made it seem like your body was crafted by Greek sculptors.

“Haze,” was all you could say, not knowing how to take such praise.

“Alright, alright,” she placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, shushing you softly.

As you sat there, your sexual frustration with her grew. You knew this was the point of the teasing, but you needed to get off immediately before you broke down into tears.

“Can I take this off?” Hazel asked softly, tugging on a belt loop on the skirt.

You nod eagerly. Your hips lifted up as she carefully shuffled the jean down your plush thighs. Her nails nicked at your skin as her hands brush down the sides of the plump skin of your outer thigh. You aid her by kicking the skirt off the foot of the bed once they reach your knees.

Hazel lets out a soft chuckle at your impatience. You were a vision laid out on her. The way your panties She couldn’t believe she was going to do this with you. She hasn’t been one to have performance anxiety but it was different with you.

You weren’t just a stranger or one-night stand; you were her friend or whatever you wanted to call what you two had now. That was something for her to worry about later.

Now, her lustful desire was the only thing on her mind.

“So, what I mean by teasing is,” Hazel trailed off to drag the tips of her fingers over the front of the damp spot in front of your white cotton panties.

You sharply inhale as her fingers brush right over your swollen clit from underneath the material. You keep your gaze on the reflection, not wanting to miss a moment of this. The sight was so deliciously obscene. A part of you wished you could take a photo.

“Make yourself want it more, okay?” Hazel instructs as her hands move to your inner thighs.

The short crescent indentation of her nails make themselves known as she lightly digs her hands into the plush and soft skin. You nod mindlessly, one of your hands gripping onto one of her arms.

“When am I supposed to…” You trail off, gasping when she casually brushes past your clothed pussy.

“Touch?” Hazel hummed, kissing at the nape of your neck.

“Haze, it hurts. Please.” You whimper, no longer feeling like yourself at the moment.

You were induced in a desperate haze, hips rutting forward into her touch. At this point, you were readily waiting for her to remove the restricting panties.

“So impatient, baby.” She tuts, shaking her head teasingly as she hooks her thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties.

You allowed a whine to leave your panting lips. You released her arm to allow her to shimmy down the embarrassingly wet underwear. The mirror revealed your glistening cunt.

“See how wet you are? Fuck me.” Hazel groans out her words as she teases her middle finger through the folds. “Such a pretty pussy, too, honey.”

Your hips follow her touch enthusiastically, needing. her to do something. Hazel removed her fingers as soon as she noticed your bucking hips, smiling to herself. She made sure to lock your gazes as she slipped the finger that was covered in your slick into her mouth.

You let out a gentle moan at the sight, tilting your head to look at her face. Hazel captured her lips to yours as soon as your eyes locked, one hand cupping the underside of your jaw. The other sneaky hand made its way in between your legs to tease your sopping cunt with her middle and ring finger.

As you were messily kissing, one of her fingers began to slip into you. You pull away to softly pant. You and Hazel’s swollen lips were just a centimeter apart as you begged for her to keep going.

“Your pussy feels so fucking perfect, baby. So wet for me, yeah?” Hazel mutters against your lips, her cocky attitude peaking through.

You nod at her words, trying to press your lips to hers. She shook her head with a condescending, chuckle and jerked her chin towards the full-body mirror.

“Watch, pretty girl. You’re supposed to learn something from this.” Hazel pecked the underside of your jaw before pulling back.

You refrained from rolling your eyes but focused on the reflection. Her finger began to pump in and out of you.

You weren’t learning jackshit.

All you could focus on was how fucking amazing her finger felt inside you. When she curled it inside, you let out a mix of a surprised and aroused moan. One of your hands grips onto her bicep tightly as you buck your hits to meet her fingers movements.

“You’re doing so good, honey,” Hazel kisses at flushed cheeks and jaw. “My perfect girl.”

You preen at the praise, only being able to audibly respond with whines and moans.

My. She said ‘my’ as if you were hers.

As pathetic as it may have seemed, you felt it in that you were. Her endless amount of praise made your skin beam. Your mind was too fucked out to even notice that she had slipped in her middle finger. The slight stretch made you clench down onto her.

“Oh my— fuck, Haze,” you whine as a hand reached down to grip onto her wrist, feeling overwhelmed with the pressure being applied to your g-spot.

“Yeah? Feel good, honey?” Hazel’s other hand cupped one of your breasts as her nose brushed against the crook of your flushed and sweaty neck.

You nod with a delicate whimper. “I wanna cum, please, Haze. Please.”

Hazel kissed at that sweet spot right underneath your ear before kissing the sensitive hickey. The sound of you begging to cum made her own underwear become slick with arousal but this was focused on you. Making you cum.

Just to give you some ‘lessons’, of course.

“C’mon, baby. You can do it, pretty girl.” Hazel’s encouraging words made you moan softly.

Her fingers picked up their pace as the other hand kept its hold on your tit. You keep your gaze locked on the reflection and let out the most raunchy sounds that you’ve ever made. You feel your lower abdomen tightening as your orgasm gets closer.

Your hips stutter as you throw your head back onto Hazel’s shoulder, legs attempting to clamp her arm. The sensations of her wet kisses, curling fingers and delicate touch were too immense.

“Hazel,” you whined, your voice becoming higher pitched as you were about to cum.

That one word alerted her to keep her same pace. The hand that was on your boob wrapped around your waist to pull your flushed body up against her as you. Your breaths had become ragged and moans were whiny and high-pitched.

You were so close. So fucking close.

“Cum for me, baby. You’re doing so good. So gorgeous like this.”

You couldn’t even comprehend your orgasm as it ripped through you so quickly. Your eyes shut and rolled into the back of your head for just a second before sitting up to trap Hazel’s hand. Your entire body was quivering, hips stuttering as you rode out of the orgasm against her fingers.

You think you could pass out in all honesty from how intense everything felt. Hazel was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, one arm still wrapped around your waist to keep you steady.

“There you go. You did perfect, honey,” she pressed gentle kisses onto your heated skin, trying to get you to calm down. Your eyes were shut, chest falling and rising rapidly.

“I did?” You pant out, a weak chuckle leaving your lips.

“Mhmm. Perfect as always.” Hazel reassured you, letting out a smitten laugh along with you.

You hum as fatigue takes over your limbs. Hazel pressed gentle kisses onto your damp hairline, holding you close to her. You immediately try to nuzzle into her touch, feeling in dire need of a nap.

“Hey, you gotta go and pee.” Hazel whispers as she notices how limp your body was getting.

“Can I pee tomorrow morning?” You attempt to get her to let you stay here in her arms.

“No,” she huffed out a laugh, “I don’t want you to get a UTI. Look, I’ll come with since I have to wash my hands.”

You suck in a deep breath, pretending to think for a moment before sighing out an ‘okay.’ Hazel reluctantly released your waist to let you make yourself more… well, not fucked out. You sit up gradually onto her bedsheets, cracking your lower back.

The rest of the night was more than you could’ve asked for. After you had gotten the strength to stand up, Hazel walked with you to the small bathroom her and Brittany’s room had. You peed and she washed her hands in the comfortable silence.

You fell asleep happily in her sleeping shirt that she had lended you: a plain white oversized tee. Hazel slept on her back as you rested your head on her chest, one leg thrown over the both of hers.

The next morning came quickly as you heard shuffling coming from the bathroom. Your eyes were squinted as you stared at the posters on the wall. You knew it wasn’t Hazel in the bathroom as you could feel her arm draped around your naked waist underneath the shirt.

You sit up slowly as you rubbed your heavy eyes with one palm, looking around the room as you were fully waking up. A soft click echoed into the room and you see Brittany emerge from the bathroom, wearing what you assumed was her outfit from the night before. A neon pink tank top with white shorts.

Her makeup was slightly smudged, neon green eyeshadow lathering her lids.

Brittany grinned weakly at you, yawning through her words. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You blush as you tug the sheets to cover your exposed lower half.

“How did you sleep?” Her tone was knowing and cheeky.

“Britt, don’t start.” Hazel speaks up causing you to jump as her eyes were still shut and body was still.

You thought she was dead asleep. Hazel merely tugged you in closer to her, adjusting herself once again as she smacked her dry lips. You lay back down onto her chest, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Fine. Happy for you guys, though. You know how many times I had to deal with you both ogling at each other?” Brittany muttered as she laid on her side, groaning when her head hit the mattress.

You tilt your head up at Hazel’s relaxed features, watching them alter into annoyance as she opens her eyes to glare at Brittany’s figure. A small smile spread onto your lips at what you had just heard.

“You ogle at me?” You whisper, twirling a strand of her hair around your finger.

Hazel couldn’t help but allow the faintest smile to spread onto her lips.

“Yeah, I kind of…” Hazel sucks in a deep breath before huffing out. She knew this was now or never. She had to tell you the truth. “I really like you. I know you may not believe me because of… you know. But I do. I want this with you. It’s scary to me but I don’t want this with anyone else.”

Your heart grew tenfold at her confession, eyes softening with adoration. Her gaze was avoiding yours. You’d never really seen Hazel so vulnerable in the few years that you’ve known her.

“I really like you too, Haze. Ask anyone in our friend group. I thought I made it so obvious.” You confess as you trace her chains on her neck.

“Really?” Hazel asked in disbelief.

“Don’t even,” you scoff, finally locking eyes with her. “I got so fucking flustered around you.”

“Okay, yeah. I noticed.” Hazel admits softly, pressing her nose into your cheek as you groan out in embarrassment. “Stop. I thought it was because you were shy.”

“Around you. Literally no one else.” You bury your face into her neck, cuddling into her body.

“Well, regardless of that, I’m glad that this is happening now.” Hazel pressed soft kisses onto your head before accepting your embrace.

“Me too.”

You hum in content with your position, mentally, physically and with Hazel. You close your eyes once again, floating down into another deep sleep in her embrace. Classes forgotten, worries disappearing, and heart full.

Making out with your best friend was the best decision you ever made.

taglist: @imjustapearl @seethesin @matchamilkislover @beabeebrie @curiousshifter101 @uraesthete @shaddyluvs @fictionalcharacterspecialist @c4llahansgirl @maggiecc @fruitysnackysmain @emststar @crvptidgf <33

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #wlw #sapphic #ruby cruz #i need her #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan x you #the loml tbh #cocky!hazel supremacy

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kaicubus · 1 year

Text

Distraction | Xavier T.

warnings ✩° : mutual pining, angry(?) confession, teasing, competition, cursing, rivals to lovers, both reader and xavier are 17-18 years old, fluff but also a tad spice.

pairing ✩° : xavier thorpe x fem!reader

premise ✩° : on the day of the annual poe cup, you're put against your academic rival, xavier thorpe, and you don't want to lose. however, he has other plans of getting the upper hand with you and knows exactly how to get his way. hes knocking out two birds with one stone, if you will.

word count ✩° : 3.4k

authors note ✩° : this was done in literally a few hours bc i’m obsessed and it needs to be addressed.

The rules were simple.

They always have been. Follow what the people in charge told you and don't disappoint. If you disappoint them then you disappoint the whole community and what good are you if you're a disappointment. It was hard not to see school, ground zero for being the best, as a competition. In fact, you thrived working towards a goal of being superior than everyone else; maybe it was due to the fact that no matter what was put in front of you, you could understand it and write it off as done as soon as you wrote your name. However, there were some things you didn't get at times and that frustrated you.

Over the time you’ve known him, it’s been test after test, assignment after assignment, obscure experiment after obscure experiment to prove to this seemingly effortlessly perfect creature that you’re better than him, only for you to miss his mark by one. point.

“Maybe you should think less about being better than me and more about the material, Y/n.” Xavier would say, “But don’t worry, you ALMOST got the same score as me.”

It wasn't his snarky comments or obviously stronger memory than you that made you over the top angry, no, it was the fact that you couldn't understand how he was doing it. Nothing made sense and the feeling of not knowing made looking into his stupid hazel eyes, gazing at his sharp and defined side profile, and wispy long hair all the more annoying. Everything has to have answers. So why did he make your throat tighten every time you spoke to him? Or your face flush with dark shades of pink and red? It had to be anger. There was no other explanation.

All of the rivalry would eventually lead you both up to the annual Poe Cup. A boat race amongst four teams, five members from each house all stuck together on their respective hand crafted boats each representing a different Edgar Allen Poe poem.

You're on The Black Cat team while Xavier’s on The Amontillado team. For a whole week you spend with your team, preparing for the race and to utterly destroy Xavier because this will finally prove to yourself that you’re good at him at something.

“You ready to beat the shit out of Xavier, Y/n?” Your friend who knows your rivalry with the guy smiles at you, “Once WE have that cup he has to realize that all he is to you, is dirt.” She was right.

“Relax, F/n, why ruin my chances with excitement when I can take all of that and shove it in his face at the very end.”

Your other team mate taps you both on your shoulders, “You guys ready? It’s almost time.” With that, you watch everyone file into their boats, Xavier included, and so you and your friend make your way into your own seats. However, just before you adjust your headband on your head, you decide to catch a glimpse of the destined losers on each side of you. Though no one else is important right now other than seeing him, so you give a side eyed glance in Xavier’s direction.

To your surprise, not only is he already looking at you, but, “Is he laughing at me?”

Your friend looks towards Xavier as well and scoffs, “Yeah,” She confirms, “Looks like they all are. Fucking clowns.”

As you chew on the inside of your cheek out of anger, a sudden whistle blows from Ms. Weems accompanied by a large megaphone that amplifies her voice as she speaks.

You can tell out of the corner of your eye that ever since your friend had rudely thrusted her middle finger into the sky for all the jesters to see, Xavier hadn't stopped looking at you. His eyes, laser focused, burned into the side of your head and it only made you more anxious for the race. You bite your lip ever so slightly and fight back the urge to look at him too.

Thankfully, you're saved by a gunshot that explodes into the air and suddenly your team gets pushed into the water.

Of all things, why should you be thinking about Xavier Thorpe and what he has to say or look at you for? All this time, you've convinced yourself that you could care less what he thinks of you. After all, the reason you're trying so hard to be better than him is the very reason that motivates you every day to get up and face him. Otherwise, you'd be locked away in your dorm with nothing to do but attend class and repeat the cycle. In a way, he was your reason to wake up.

“Y/N! Duck!” Your friend suddenly snaps you out of your mechanical like motions of rowing as hard as possible. Wasting no time, you dodge the flying axe coming your way by a hair. “What the hell?! Y/n, focus!”

“I am focused, F/n.”

“No, you're not. You got that lost look in your eyes. Stop thinking about Xavier and maybe pay attention to all the objects being thrown around at us? So you don't die, and most importantly, so we can win this for our hall?”

For the rest of the distance from the starting line to the other end of the lake, you try not to look behind you as looking behind you would only distract you from the prize. All of your team puts in their all in rowing as fast as they can together in sync, each arm pushing at the exact same second as everyone else to really glide through the water. Despite nets being tossed, siren students diving under boats and tipping them over, and very small fire crackers being thrown into other boats, three teams are left remaining to the next stage of the race. Getting the flag.

“Go go go!” F/n pushes you up, “Get the black flag. We’ll be waiting here to look out for anybody.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you nod and start sprinting directly into the old, creaky forest. Dry leaves crunch under your feet in threes, making their crinkles the only noise in the entire forest. That’s good, you think, that means no one else came yet. Quickly jumping over logs and rocks, you make your way to the flag destination, only to see that your black flag is missing.

“What the—”

“Hey,” a voice calls out from behind you, “Looking for something?”

The cheesy line doesn't go without an eye roll as you turn around, “Xavier.”

“You don't seem too happy to see me.” Your rival stands with a shit eating grin on his face, comically extenuated with crimson, drippy paint.

You're quick to reply, “I'm not. You took my flag which I need to win this. So hand it over, Thorpe.”

He raises his hands and allows you to charge up to him just close enough so that you're barely touching the tips of his pointed shoes with your jet black boots. “What? Who says I have your flag? I JUST got here in case you hadn't noticed.”

“I actually haven't noticed. Because why would I stop to care about where you are?”

“You seemed to care when we first started.” Xavier leans down and twists his head slightly, just enough for you to be caught off guard and step back, “I saw you looking at me.” His tone makes you shrink back.

Heat rushes to your face in a fleeting panic and almost immediately, your chest twists your rib cage hard enough to squeak out, “I WASN'T LOOKING AT YOU! YOU were looking at ME!”

Xavier raises his brows and chuckles, “I remember differently.”

Of course he has to be cocky now. “Look, Xavier. Just forget this and let me go. Your gross sweat is getting all over me.”

“Oh is that so?”

“YESNOWLETGO.”

He snickers at your flustered nature but decides to go the extra mile and tease you further, “You do realize that we all have to get back, Y/n, its kinda the whole reason why we made it here. Though it looks like its just the two of us.” He turns to both of his sides and then directs his attention back to you, “I’d say we have a little time.”

Again, you emphasize, “WE don't have time. Unlike you, I actually WANT to win. Xavier, I don't know what your deal is or why you're so obsessed with me and making me look like a complete and utter fool, but once I win this for my team, it ends. Do you understand me?”

Xavier exhales deeply, “You know, for someone who’s so high strung and smart, you're really dumb, aren't you?”

“What?”

He steps forward, causing you to back into a tree. You can feel the roughness of the tree bark as it etches its way across the backside of your suit, causing a mildly discomforting feeling that shivers throughout your skin. Before you can move forward, Xavier steps closer, basically eliminating any means of escaping.

“Why am I so obsessed with you? Is that what you think this is? Obsession?”

You look up at him to find his naturally tall stature hunched over to be at eye level with you. Surely, if anyone to walk into the scene, they’d think you two were stopping the competition just to make out. Even though Xavier’s hand is firmly pressed just between your ear and shoulder and he was just over an inch close to you so that your noses are barley touching, it’s not like that at all. Yet, at least.

“That’s what I just asked.” Your eyebrows stitch together bitterly, “Can you not hear, clown? You don’t understand how hard it is for me to watch my reputation die because of you and your perfect grades and your perfect art. What makes you think you can just parade yourself around to be better than me?!” The questions leave a burning sensation in your throat.

“Reputation? Grades? Is that what this is about?”

“YES! Are you DENSE?!”

Instead of matching your violent glower, you watch as the clown leans his head to the side in laughter. His lips parting just enough so you can see his sharp teeth laugh at you too, “Y/n, did you just call me dense? What is that? An insult? At least I’m not the one who always scores lower than me.”

Embarrassment? Anger? Nervousness? Why was his laugh the thing to make you feel weak now? Maybe the first two are theories, but the third is a definite fact. Your eyes are quickly drawn in by his hazel pupils, curious and dilated as they stare back at you. For a moment, the silence between you two isnt filled with hate or rivalry, but peace. That is until he lets out a breathy laugh after getting a good look at your calm face for once.

“Y/n, cat got your tongue? Or do you just not have anything else to say to me other than ‘I hate you’ and ‘stop being better than me’?” He points a finger to your feline head accessory.

"Shut up.” You bark, “Dumb isn’t really a good insult either. You are so full of shit—"

Xavier moves closer, now toe to toe with you and just a breath away from your face.

“God, Y/n, cant you see that I like you? All this time I thought it was so obvious. I mean, how are you going to tell people you're the smartest person in the room when you cant even pick up on subtle hints that basically spell it out for you?” He says, “Or are you too busy to notice anyone other than yourself?”

His words cause your heart to pound once, twice, and before you know it you can’t hear anything but the thumping in your chest and the soft winds surrounding you both. Xavier parts his lips again, determined to give you the answers you've been so desperately searching for.

“Do you know how fucking exhausting it is to pretend I hate you back, just to have the opportunity to talk to you?” His tone is exasperated and shallow, but he doesn't break eye contact with you, “You seriously thought all those times we got close was because I wanted to be ‘better’ than you in some subject?” Almost like he doesn't believe you, Xavier shakes his head in disapproval, “The only time Ive wanted to prove to you I'm worth something is now.”

His confession only fills your head with more questions, “That doesn't even make any sense! How can you say you didn't actually want to be better than me when that's all you did?” You feel the heat saturate into a dark pink that settles into your cheeks, “And why are you telling me all this now? Why are you so adamant on telling me that you—”

Xavier doesn't even acknowledge your questions, he just continues to hold a burning tension between you and him, focusing only on one thing.

Fuck.

Maybe its the fact hes so close, or that he told you hes liked you all this time, but right now it feels like nothings stopping you from telling him too. It just feels so right.

Before you know it, your mouth opens on its own, your bottom lip trembling for just a second. Xavier’s eyes trail down to your lips, then back into your eyes, and a small smirk pulls the corner of his ivory painted skin up.

Without another second to lose, Xavier tilts even closer than he thought he’d ever be to you and cups your cheek, finding the courage you both need to pull you into an unexpected kiss.

The pastiness of your rival’s white face paint rubs against your dewy skin as the taste of him spreads across your pallet, rough, warm, and agonizingly slow. With a gentle hand, you bunch the back of Xavier’s thin yet airy suit and fall into him, curving just enough so he can extend his hold on you.

Xavier knew that he wanted to touch you. It’s basically been his dream ever since he got close to you and seemingly hurdled himself into being your rival. But he’d never admit that. Or maybe, now he would. Gently, Xavier clasps onto your hips more carefully, securely rubbing his fingers against the skin tight latex uniform you were forced to wear which gives him enough grip to hook his desperate palms onto your body.

You break away for a second, just long enough to look at his face and how mesmerized he is by you and just how fucked you are in this downward spiral of messy feelings and requited love. Love you are much too afraid to commit to. But, Xavier pulls you back into his lips and makes you forget all of your worries, even the one you're supposed to be most worried about.

The kiss practically captures you for what seems like an eternity, erasing all memory of the Poe Cup and time spent hating Xavier's guts only to now realize that that hate may have been fueled by a painfully simple crush. But you wouldn't admit that either. Though, now there’s no other explanation to the methods behind your madness.

Soon enough, your hands find their rightful place in his long, messy hair, scooting his jester cap off easily. Had you known his hair was this soft before? You always told yourself you didn't care but now it was too hypnotizing not to twirl your fingers in. In fact, it’s practically asking you to grab it and play with it, screaming at you to touch it, touch him.

Xavier’s hips press into yours, giving you the go ahead to adjust your position so that your thigh is comfortably resting atop his hip. The stance feels too natural to be normal, and you're both caught off guard by it. Yet, you continue to taste him and feel him up close without another thought.

Nipping at your bottom lip, you can feel Xavier let out a sigh of relief, as if kissing you has been something on his mind for years. Only half of that could be true. Still, his victory cheer makes you do your own version with a quieter huff.

You give the roots of his hair a tight squeeze before your shoulders relax and another sigh escapes from your now open mouth. The force of his lips smashing against yours pushes you back successfully, leaving each part of your body to surrender to his. For once, you let it and as much as you hate to admit it, whatever he was doing was working.

When he finally pulls away, your breath is harsh and so is his. No matter how hard you could try, looking away from his hazy eyes was not an option. Just like the fog around you both, his gaze is inescapable and suffocating. You knew kissing your rival was a bad idea, but neither one of you want to move your hands from their proper places on each other.

Just then, a distant voice calls out to Xavier that snaps you out of your absentmindedness. “Shit,” Xavier curses softly against your lips, “Thanks for that Y/n,” he pulls away, much to your hidden displeasure, “But...I have a cup to win.”

Suddenly, it all comes hurdling back.

“FUCK! THE RACE!” You tear yourself away from Xavier, breaking the warmth between you both, and scramble to find your flag, “YOU CONNIVING SON OF A BITCH. YOU DISTRACTED ME!”

“I hope you don't mind but I actually sort of hid it.” He grins slyly at you, straightening his suit with a swift rub on his chest, “No rules, remember?” He pulls out a flag from behind him and snickers. Has he had that this entire time?

A flash of surging anger fumes inside of your chest, but Xavier just smiles. In his mind, it’s almost laughable how you fell for his devious yet successful confession slash plan. It was too good to pass up. And judging by the sour pout on your face, it worked!

“Y/n,” He chirps, “Was I a good distraction?” He can’t help but ask.

You avoid his gaze and turn your head to other possible directions your flag can be in, “You're the worst, Xavier.”

He runs a hand through his brown hair and smooths it down, “Right, right. You hate me. But I got you pretty good, didn’t I?” He picks up his jester cap and lazily smashes it onto the top of his head, “I'm gonna go, but, you should totally meet me in my dorm tonight? At 8?”

He makes his hasty exit before you can reply, leaving you breathless and weak in the knees—mostly tight fisted and furious, but still, weak in the knees.

“So, Y/n. Do you want to explain why you...left for so long..?” Your teammate asks, kind of scared to ask in the first place but confusion was eating her alive. How fitting.

Instead of answering, you reply with strong and swift robotic motions that quickly thunk your boat along the shore line, taking a good chunk out of the grass and soil. Unfortunately, half way through your synchronized rowing, some water kicked up into the boat and soaked your costume. You didn't care though. All you wanted was Xavier.

And his head on a stick.

Sounds of congratulatory cheers erupt from the crowd as Xavier and the rest of his jester-like teammates hold up the Poe Cup trophy together.

“Bitch.” Is all you can say when all your other teammates wash up next to you, sad, defeated, and soaked with murky lake water.

“Well get them next time, Y/n. Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Your friend smiles happily.

Yeah. Tonight.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday fanfic #wednesday series #wednesday fic #wednesday xavier #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fanfic #wednesday netflix #kaicubus

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rootbeerworshiper · 10 days

Text

means something

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summery: your best friend stopped talking to you suddenly but you need one last chance at closure

warnings: angst lol

a/n: short and sweet (and sad) but i had fun writing it. alsoooo it’s based on the song but you don’t need the song playing in the background bc the pacing is different

love, sienna <3

you let out a defeated sigh as you focus your attention on a blank sheet of paper. it was supposed to be easy now, easier to let out your thoughts and begin to reconstruct your views on the situations that bring you sadness. at least that’s what your therapist advised you.

but instead you have nothing but small doodles of hearts on the top of the paper, serving as nothing but a sad reminder of your own life and how it lacks the love you always read about.

‘hopeless romantic’ used to feel like the wrong word, because there was a point where you had hope for a story like you see in the movies. a classic romantic comedy plot line was one you had always yearned for.

it’s silly how badly you’ve wanted it. you know you’re a complete person without it, you have strengths and aspirations and you cannot base your worth onto stupid boys.

but he wasn’t stupid. not in the slightest, regardless of what others said about him.

he was thoughtful and caring in ways no one else has been to you. never in your life have you seen someone so in touch with their own emotions at that level.

that’s because he’s special. to you and to so many other people.

April 17th, 2022

dear Matt,

i’m not entirely sure how to do this whole thing but it’s a step in healing that i’m more than inclined to take. part of me just really wants to get better so i have to do something to help me.

it might seem really random that i’m mailing you a letter, and trust me i understand how odd it is. but for once i needed you to hear me, and i can’t really send this message to a blocked number.

i can’t see anything in life without thinking of you. i saw a street sign the other day and i had to squint because, for a moment i thought i saw your last name plastered on the plastic. and i thought that it meant something. like the universe was trying to tell me something.

how pathetic is that? you know i can’t even have most of my favourite snacks anymore because they were our favourite snacks. the new foods you introduced me to when i forced you to watch ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ with me in middle school are practically forbidden from my apartment.

“this is the dumbest movie concept ever” Matt speaks, an annoyed undertone to his voice as he looks to me.

“you haven’t even watched it yet how can it be dumb? you know you might end up enjoying it if you watch it with an open mind” i reply, snuggling into his arm as my body rests on the soft couch cushion.

it definitely doesn’t take long for him to become invested.

“wait someone sent the letters?”

“why is she kissing him? doesn’t she like margo’s boyfriend?”

“damn they’re really just making out in a public hot tub”

the movie comes to a close, a cute song playing as the credits roll. “so, what did you think?”

“i think that i really like root beer and i really need the second movie now” he exclaims, sipping his bubbly liquid before looking down at me with the same blue eyes that can easily make me dizzy.

“i thought you’d come around Matt”

now i’m just a girl getting sad over a canned soda and a familiar brand of chips because it reminds me of all the good that once was.

along with this, i know everything about you.

i know your zodiac sign, me and leo’s are really compatible, which i never failed to mention to you despite how little you believe in astrology.

i can’t lie, the amount of silly little compatibility quizzes i took throughout middle school with our names punched in was a bit excessive, but every time without fail i would get the answers i had hoped for. and i thought that meant something.

i know how hard it was growing up for you. but i was there for you when you needed someone to force you to go to school in the morning, or when you needed help ordering food at the gas station across the street.

i used to think we were soulmates. not always romantic, but we just understood each other so well and i considered it to be sacred.

whenever i went through my own shit you were there for me. it was always so easy. knowing that if i had a bad day i had someone to go to who would listen with open ears… i guess it’s just been hard to live without that.

“Matt why did he break up with me? am i that unlovable?” i cry out, my head buried in matt’s chest as he rubs small circles on the back of my head.

he just pulls my head off of him, hands placed on either cheek as he looks at me. “i don’t think there is anyone on this planet that is more lovable than you”

i sniffle, trying my best to suppress the numerous tears that want nothing more than to escape my eyes. “so why did he break up with me out of the blue? after eight months why did he just decide he’s done with me?”

“because he’s an idiot who doesn’t understand the girl he just lost”

i cried for hours that night when my boyfriend broke up with me, and i know you remember. the next morning i woke up in your arms and i immediately felt guilty for keeping you up so late with my sob stories, but you didn’t care.

you said you wanted what’s best for me and you would make it your life’s goal to make me happy. and then you had the audacity to run your fingers through my hair as i thought about what to do next. that along with the constant reminders of how much i deserved love, that it was a definite thing for me.

how is that okay? do you not see how that was so completely confusing? did it mean absolutely nothing?

i haven’t kissed many people in my life, something Chris loved to tease me about. what he doesn’t know is that you were my first.

we never talked about it. maybe that was for the best, because every time i see a picture of you all i can think about is how good your lips felt on mine.

“i can’t just kiss you!” i laugh out, taking another swig of my drink before wiping my lips and looking back at the boy who has a serious expression resting on his face.

“sure you can. i don’t want jack to have an unfortunate ending to your guys’ date if u end up like… licking his bottom lip or some shit” he argues, holding his own drink in his own hand but keeping his attention solely on me.

“you’re just saying that because you’re drunk”

“maybe” he replies, sensing my hesitance. “is the idea of kissing me that bad?”

“no! no of course not, i just don’t wanna make it weird between us” i say, suddenly feeling a pool of anxiety form in my stomach.

but then, before i could form another overwhelming thought you just kissed me. just like that your lips were attached to mine and everything felt okay.

it was short lived, although i know i could have been like that forever. “nothing could ever make things weird between us, promise”

it’s funny isn’t it? how many times we assured each other that our friendship was solid, unbreakable.

i think the worst part is the not knowing. there’s nothing to comfort me with.

you left one day and you simply never spoke to me again. was it my fault? was it something i said?

i can’t help but wonder if the reason you cut it off is because you noticed all the small glances i would take in your direction. or if you noticed that the reason why i love romance books so much is because i imagine we’re the main characters.

that’s the thing though, i’ll never know. i feel less like myself without you, but maybe that’s part of growing up.

i have to learn what my own favourite snacks are and i can’t reply on you to have my back when i get my heart broken. instead i’ll be crying in an empty bed wondering what could’ve happened differently.

this wasn’t supposed to be a long letter but i promise it’s the only one you’ll be getting from me because i have to do the same as you, i have to move on.

i just have one question for you.

did all of this mean something to you? like really mean something to you in the way that i interpreted it.

i’ve wondered if i was delusional when i caught you staring at me from across the classroom, or when i found those compatibility tests in your search history.

but the kiss? drunk or not i thought something was there, with you or with us or whatever else. i didn’t think i was just another girl that Matt Sturniolo kisses and then forgets about but that’s exactly what i became.

anyways, i hope this letter finds you well. i had to ask Nate for your address but please don’t get mad at him. you know how stubborn i am when i want something and he tried to say no.

i guess i just love you, and i’m trying my best to make that sentence into past tense.

thanks for listening, y/n.

you grab an envelope that resides on the edge of your desk and open it up. folding up your letter and placing it gently inside before licking the tip of the envelope and closing it.

it all feels metaphorical. pouring your heart out just for it to get concealed by a thin piece of paper and shipped away.

regardless, you breathe out, standing up and making your way over to the garage to start your car. if you don’t do it know you won’t do it at all, and you need him to hear you.

a/n: if u want a part 2 you might get one maybe… we’ll see what i’m feeling anyways hope you enjoyed this blurb

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @sturniolololover @immuneweed @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @luverboychris @gracealwaysdisgrace @gamermattsgf @mattscoquette @nervoussagittarius @sugrhigh @jnkvivi @sturnsmia

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #Spotify

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loaksky · 5 months

Text

i don’t celebrate thanksgiving, but could you guys imagine college!ellie taking roommate!reader home to jackson because she’d be alone for the holiday? short lil oneshot to get back into the groove of writing. do i hate this? yes.

recommended songs: alabama haint — penny and sparrow + what once was — her’s

warnings: language, a few brief mentions of family issues, suggestive content (kissing among other things) + mild sexual content, a lil misunderstanding and angst bc who am i if i don’t ??, CONFESSIONS because i’m a sloot for them. i think that’s it? not proofread ofc heh

it’s the weekend before thanksgiving, sunday to be exact, and ellie’s packing her backpack for joel’s. the energy in the the room’s a little off despite the fact that you’re normally reserved, and even though the two of you have only met this year, ellie’s learned to read you pretty well.

“you goin’ home for thanksgiving?” ellie asks absently, trying to make small talk as she rolls a sleep shirt and some pajamas haphazardly to stuff at the top of her bag.

there’s a pause that makes her brain itch before she sees the way you shake your head from where you’re hunched over a textbook at your desk.

“my family’s all over the place right now,” you answer honestly.

and ellie doesn’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally, but the lack of emotion in your voice tells her that maybe she shouldn’t pry. she can’t help it, though. because you’re her sweet and quiet roommate who’d been serious (and maybe a little scary) at first, but turned out to be a goofball with a little bit of prodding.

so seeing you like this, checked out and maybe a little stressed, ellie treads cautiously.

“so you’re gonna stay here?” she asks.

you don’t even spare her a glance.

“yeah.” your shoulders shrug. “no point in dropping so much money for a plane ticket if i’m going to be sitting home alone anyways.”

ellie makes a noise in the back of her throat and you throw look over your shoulder.

“sorry,” you offer softly, smile sheepish. “that was a little depressing.”

ellie shakes her head.

“no, i get it,” she assures you. “my family’s not really...”

you blink at her as she trails off.

“conventional? i guess?”

another quiet blankets the two of you and ellie’s speaking before she can even filter through the repercussions of her next words.

“you’re always welcome to...y’know...come with,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “it’s not even a two hour drive.”

you hope ellie can’t tell that your cheeks are burning.

“you don’t have to, of course,” ellie blabbers. “but joel’s cool, so’s my uncle and his wife. it’d be nice, i think. and jackson’s pretty fun around this time of year...”

“i don’t wanna imp—”

ellie breathes a laugh.

“don’t,” she warns you, tips of her ears burning. “you’re more than welcome, seriously.”

it’s how you end up in the passenger seat of ellie’s old 4runner, heater on blast while sublime plays on the radio.

the car ride had consisted of ellie munching on cold fries the two of you had picked up from mcdonald’s before the interstate and you finally opening up about how your parents are divorced and how the holidays are a lot more stressful than they are pleasant.

ellie really feels for you, definitely knows the feeling losing her mom at a pretty young age and being adopted in middle school by a single, bereaved father. she tells you that they’d found each other when they needed the other the most.

and you don’t particularly know why you’re so nervous when ellie finally takes the exit off the interstate and you guys make your way through the suburbs. perhaps it’s the domesticity of meeting her family, or that you’re over a hundred miles away from familiarity, but your fingers are trembling when she turns into the neighbourhood and cozy brick homes line the frost-laden streets.

she’s pulling up and parking on the curb in front of a warm two-story that has a blue pickup truck and a gold SUV in the driveway when she notices.

“hey, hey,” she whispers, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands to stop the shaking. “you okay?”

her hands are warm when they close over yours and her thumbs is brushing over your skin soothingly.

“i’m being dumb,” you admit.

ellie’s eyes are crystal clear under the setting sun.

“don’t say that,” she says softly. “you wanna take a second?”

you swallow and shake your head.

“no, we can go,” you assure her.

she’s searching your face for any tell, but when you offer her a soft smile, she’s leaning back in her seat and nodding. before she completely pulls away, you’re stopping her.

“thanks, ellie,” you say gently. “this was really kind of you.”

she flashes you an easy smile, squeezes your hand a final time before climbing out of the car and rounding the front to help you out.

and truthfully, you realize you were nervous for nothing. because when the door swings open to reveal an older man aged with smile lines and greying hair, ellie seemingly softens infinitely.

“hey, kiddo,” he greets, crushing her in a hug so tight, she’s spluttering out a laugh.

“joel, i can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

you’re standing there awkwardly, backpack slung over your shoulder when joel finally loosens his hold on ellie and glances over her head.

“who’s this?” he asks, but the smile he wears is knowing.

“________, my roommate,” she introduces quickly, cheeks warming an awful shade of red as she begs every force above that joel won’t blow her cover.

because, okay, maybe ellie’s talked about you on the phone way more times than she’d care to admit out loud. talked about how intimidating you were at first, then graduated to talking about how you were actually so cool. and maybe she’d brought up the fact that she thought you were pretty. like...super pretty. and that maybe she was crushing a teensy bit.

“nice to meet you,” joel replies simply, sparing ellie this time around.

you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding onto, offering a smile that makes ellie wonder if she’ll survive the week with you in such a new proximity.

“nice to meet you, too,” you almost whisper, relaxing as he reaches for the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“here, let me take this for you,” he says.

and it doesn’t take you long to realize where ellie gets it from. her kind spirit and fierce yet gentle heart. joel is soft-spoken, a little rough around the edges, but a warm energy that radiates through the home he’s made for himself and ellie.

it makes infinitely more sense enter tommy and maria, her uncle and aunt who tell you the silliest stories about the starry-eyed girl in her youth over dinner. who bring out her boisterous laughter when they sing old 80’s music over dishes and evening TV.

“your family’s so cool,” you say in awe, wrapped in one of her coats she’d dug out of the closet under the stairs.

you’re nursing a mug of hot chocolate that steams in the icy air of jackson on her back porch.

ellie breathes out a little laugh.

“they’re something,” she jokes, watching you over the rim of her mug.

you make her heart thud hard in her chest as she takes you in, bundled in pieces of her that make her think that she wouldn’t mind making you hers.

“i miss times like these,” you whisper.

ellie shifts closer, catching you by surprise when her thumb swipes over the curve of your top lip.

“sorry,” she hums quietly. “you had...uh...”

you let out a hollow laugh and shake your head, tell her that it’s fine as a silence blankets the two of you.

“i’m glad you like them,” ellie admits softly. “sometimes i get a little self-conscious because, y’know, everyone expects a nuclear family and...”

“i’d take this any day,” you assure her, and the true implication of your words is latent, but something hopeful pricks her tummy.

i’d take this any day...with you.

and locking eyes with you usually scares her, usually makes her queasy with nerves because there’s always something searing in your gaze, but it’s like you see each other for the first time, no barriers.

ellie’s so close she can feel the warmth of your body coiling and drawing her in. her breath’s caught in her throat as she chances a glance at your mouth and her own lips begin to tingle.

she’s on the brink of asking if she can kiss you, but the back door is sliding open and two familiar faces are surfacing.

“williams!”

ellie’s daze melts away as she shifts to put distance between the two of you at the arrival of her friends.

“jess!” she calls. “dina!”

the moment clings heavy, but ellie writes it off. maybe she’s jumping the gun, reading too much into tender moments. it’s colored on your face, though, as she stands to meet her friends halfway, that the two of you are tethered and you feel it too.

ellie’s friends are another reflection of her character. they take you under their wings in the days leading up to the holiday with jesse teaching you to ride his minibike and dina telling you stories of their childhood while excitedly painting your nails pretty shades of autumnal colors because both jesse and ellie vehemently decline.

joel graciously relinquishes his kitchen to the four of you the day before thanksgiving. lets you guys gather around and bake an array of different desserts for tomorrow’s dinner over a few beers and winecoolers.

perhaps ellie’s a lightweight, you come to find, when she’s a lot more giggly and rosy-cheeked than she’d ever let anyone see. she’s feeling a little bubbly and you definitely don’t help the fact when you gaze upon her so fondly as you smear away the streaks of flour across her cheek.

jesse and dina are merely observers, watching with knowing grins as ellie practically melts against your touch.

and as the desserts cool on the kitchen island and the two of see jesse and dina out, ellie can’t keep her hazy eyes off of you. the two of you vote on a movie and she’s taking her usual seat in the right corner of the couch. it starts out with the two of you on opposite ends, but as the film plays, the space between you and ellie diminishes and she swears you can hear the way her heart’s pounding behind her ribcage with your ear pressed to her chest.

it’s uncharted territory considering ellie’s never been big on physical touch and she can’t even be sure that there's anything there, but you have to know. ellie’d mentioned past girlfriends, wasn’t really subtle when it came to wandering eyes on campus, hell, she’d even—

suddenly your arm’s tightening around the narrow of her waist and you’re nestling impossibly closer and christ, ellie can’t help herself when the coarse pads of her fingertips brush your jaw to catch your attention.

your gaze is illuminated by pixels and there’s a hitch in your breathing as you search her features for any hesitation. it’s long gone, you find, when ellie’s mouth is slotting yours, lips warm and tongue still flavored with sparkling wine.

ellie kisses like you’re air and she needs you to breathe. it’s almost embarrassing, way her body reacts to your proximity, how hot she us under the collar and achey as you move to straddle her. her fingertips are skimming down your spine, past the small of your back to take a—

your teeth sinking in the plump of her bottom lip and the way your soft palms find purchase against the rigid expanse of her tattooed abdomen is sobering. has her bony fingers cupping the flesh of your jaw.

“wait, wait,” she whispers, chest heaving and breaths shallow as she looks up at you.

the dust is starting to settle and you take in ellie’s kiss-bitten lips, swollen and slick. her pupils are blown wide, sweater riding up to reveal reddened flesh like you’ve branded her. you lean back.

“fuck,” you whisper. “fuck, i’m so sorry.”

ellie’s mouth is drying.

“why are you sorry?” she whispers.

you seem to chew on your words, eyes teary and expression scared.

“why are you sorry?” ellie repeats, not caring enough to mask the hitch in her voice as she pries.

“you’re always so fucking good to me, ellie,” you whimper. “you’re a great roommate and an even better friend and—”

ellie blows out a deep sigh, falls slack against the cushions as she levels you with an indiscernible look in her eye.

“don’t do that,” she breathes.

“ellie.”

“c’mon, you know me better than that,” she says, tone tinged with annoyance. “you don’t have to let me down easy. you can be honest.”

and color you confused because how couldn’t she fathom that you’ve fallen and head first at that? she’s reading it all wrong, you realize, when defeat shutters over her pretty face.

“i—”

the floorboards outside the den creak and ellie’s pushing you off just as the door squeaks open to reveal joel’s aging face.

he reads the room a moment, decides to blow by the sheen in your eyes and ellie’s rigid posture.

“tommy and maria are leaving, kiddo,” he says. “if you wanna say bye.”

ellie nods, stands and leaves you in the television-illuminated room.

you realize she won’t come back for you when the telltale sound of the front door closes and the stairs seem to groan under her weight.

it’s half past two in the morning when you slip from the den, glass of water condensating on a coaster as you try to collect yourself on the screened-in deck out back.

the icy chill stings your lungs, makes you gulp in breath after breath. the night’s starting to dawn you, the gravity of the situation overwhelming you enough to choke.

“fuck,” you whisper, that familiar feeling of dread squeezing your chest.

meanwhile, ellie can’t sleep. has been staring at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom for the past two and a half hours. you’re all she can think of. pliant curves of your body settling over hers to fit like you two were made for each other, the smell of your subtle perfume, the taste of your mouth.

and she wants to be annoyed, angry at the fact, but she’d brought you all the way here, extricated you from your comfort zone and showed you parts of her she wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else.

she recalls the resignation in your tone on the drive up, how you’d divulged the dysfunction of your family and the troubles you carried with you as a result. it’d be your first holiday with someone other than yourself for a while and she’d be damned if it soured because she couldn’t push her feelings aside.

the tv’s off and the blanket’s folded when she musters up enough courage to enter the den again, heart sinking to her ass when she slides back into the kitchen and finds that the sliding door to the back deck is cracked ever so slightly.

she’s seen you in a lot of ways these past eleven-odd months she’s known you, but she’s never seen you like this, hands over your heart and chest heaving like you’re trying to ground yourself.

when your watery gaze swings to her, ellie’s melting, cushion sinking as she settles next to you.

“sorry,” you whisper shakily. “i don’t—”

ellie’s shifting to face you, arms winding around your shoulders as one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“let’s talk about it later,” ellie offers softly. “we can just go to bed for now and—”

“i really, really like you, ellie,” you say in one breath, and it has her body locking up, the audible catch of her inhale sounding near your ear.

“but?”

“no buts,” you admit. “just that i don’t want you to think that i kissed you because you’re being nice to me. well, i guess you’re always nice to me. it’s one of the reasons why i…”

and ellie doesn’t mean to tune you out, but you’re so fucking cute and so sweet and she shouldn’t have doubted you or herself because you’re hiccuping and shivering and—

you taste better the second time around. now ellie’s a little less unsure, still a little nervous because you’re the first girl to make her feel like this and she doesn’t want the bubble she’s built around the two of you in this corner of her little world to burst, but kissing you feels so right.

she’s dragging you back inside, past the den and up the stairs, and maybe the two of you do things you shouldn’t in her twin size bed in her childhood room when her dad’s only a few walls away, but she can’t help herself. not when you’ve always been an arm’s length away and she can finally have you.

it isn’t until the two of you lay under the dim glimmer of the glow-in-the dark stars pasted to her ceiling, her face pressed in your neck, that she says it.

“i really, really like you, too,” she whispers. “i realized i didn’t say it back.”

but it’s not like she needs to. you knew that already.

neng ©️2023

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou2

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kamaluhkhan · 2 months

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I BET ON LOSING DOGS

ENVY — part ii of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (she/her pronouns) word count: 1.6k summary: luke is getting tired of keeping your relationship a secret, you get a new sparring partner, and silena beauregard wins a bet. warnings/disclaimers: jealous!luke, suggestive but no smut, biting + some blood bc of course author's note: i had to include some friend group shenanigans and silena x clarisse moments ♡ i'm imagining that this takes place during tlt/season 1 of pjo when the kids are on their quest, and the characters are slightly aged up to 20/21 years old....anyways, enjoy and feel free to reblog + comment :)

♪ "i bet on losing dogs" by mitski

"rumor has it that lee wants to ask her out."

silena tilts her head towards the other end of the ping pong table, where you sit next to lee fletcher, a pair of wired earbuds and an mp3 player shared between you as everyone waits for the senior counselor meeting to start.

luke clears his throat. “why would he want to do that?”

in theory, it shouldn’t bother luke: how you and lee nod along to music only the two of you can hear, how your shoulder presses against his ever so slightly, how he seems to lean into you even further.

you and lee had always been friendly, but since when did you become such close friends?

“hm. let’s see. she’s strong, gorgeous, the right amount of dangerous, and perfectly single.”

again, luke pretends that he doesn’t feel something ignite in the pit of his stomach.

as far as everyone is concerned, you and luke are friends, too.

the rush you both got from the whole secret relationship thing was fun, but, gods, sometimes luke wanted nothing more than to show everyone you were his and he was yours.

“sounds like you’re the one who wants to ask her out.”

silena rolls her eyes. “please. i’m a happily taken woman.” clarisse turns to them as if she knew she’s been referenced. silena blows her a kiss before adding: “can’t really say the same for y/n, can we? i think her and lee would make a cute couple.”

chiron finally enters the room before luke has a chance to respond. he sits through the whole meeting, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists.

throughout the day, luke reminds himself that he’s the one you’re with. and silena’s theory that you and lee would make a good couple?

ridiculous. laughable. unimaginable.

later, during swordfighting, you and lee practice together. any time luke is leading a session, you usually pair up with silena, but she seems to have twisted her ankle. not enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary, just a seat on the sidelines.

luke has no doubt that she’s trying to work her daughter of aphrodite, matchmaker magic.

between teaching the younger campers, luke glances at the two of you, yours swords colliding and limbs occasionally intersecting. luke demonstrates a new technique, eyes sliding over to you, positioning yourself behind lee and correcting his form by gently adjusting his hips. something bubbles in the pit of his stomach.

gods, if he could switch places with lee fletcher.

you square up for another round, but the fight is over relatively quickly. even with the advice you seemed to have given lee, you manage to get him on the ground, straddling his waist while you point your sword at his chin. you smile down at lee, canines sparkling in the afternoon sun.

luke remembers what silena had said earlier, about you — the right amount of dangerous.

out the corner of his eye, luke can see silena gazing dreamily at the pair of you, no doubt overjoyed that a new romance seems to be blossoming.

overjoyed is certainly not a word luke would use for himself now, as you lift your shirt to wipe the sweat from your brow. for a split second, your entire torso is visible to everyone. including lee, whose eyes seem to linger on the tattoo on your ribs for a little too long.

luke tells the kids to pair up and practice before walking over to your side of the arena.

“hey,” you exhale, dropping your shirt and smiling at him.

luke doesn’t waste any more time, though, and crashes his lips onto yours.

he thinks you start to melt into the kiss, but then you bite down on his bottom lip — hard.

“ow!” he turns away to spit out some blood. “why did you —”

“you just landed me two weeks of extra laundry!”

“i…what?”

if silena looked overjoyed before, she’s ecstatic now, practically skipping over to where you stood, her ankle miraculously healed.

“aha! i win — again! that’ll teach you to question a daughter of aphrodite, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

luke, slightly lightheaded, has no clue what is happening. things don’t get any clearer as chris, clarisse, and beckdorf join you.

chris shoves luke’s shoulder. “bro, you just cost me 30 drachmas!”

“seriously, dude,” beckendorf shakes his head. “you couldn’t have kept it in your pants for, like, a few more days?”

“okay, but lena totally cheated,” clarisse huffs, stabbing her spear into the ground.

“what! how?”

“you used lee to make him jealous!” the boy in question waves at you awkwardly before walking off to the archery range.

“i did not cheat. i had a strategy, and just needed to add some drama to move things in my favor,” silena reasons. “besides, all’s fair in love and war. i’m sorry you had to find out this way, baby. ”

she plants a kiss on clarisse’s cheek, which does make clarisse’s lips turn up ever so slightly, despite the accompanying eye roll.

“okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going?”

you sigh and swipe your thumb over luke’s bottom lip, wiping away more crimson liquid that had emerged thanks to your bite.

“i found out a few days ago that our lovely friends placed bets on when we were going to tell them about our relationship.”

“wait….” luke looks around at everyone. “you all knew? since when?”

“the whole time.” you grin sheepishly. “apparently, we weren’t as subtle as we thought we were.”

“you weren’t subtle at all,” beckendorf corrects, hands fiddling with some spare bolts he kept in his pocket.

“love is difficult to hide,” silena defends, like you’re her favorite couple on a reality dating show. “the amount of times you’d both show up late to the dining pavilion together, with your clothes and hair messed up was enough to give you away. not to mention, the way you look at each other.”

“yeah, like two idiots in love,” clarisse mockingly agrees with silena, who jabs her in the ribs playfully. clarisse gestures to her orange camp shirt. “by the way, these aren’t designed to hide hickeys. there are children here to think of.”

“be thankful you don’t have to hear them on the roof of the hermes cabin every night. it’s a wonder any of us get to sleep.”

"oh, and then there’s the showering at weird times and then smelling like the same body wash —”

“moving on,” you interrupt, much to luke’s appreciation. “when i figured out what they had going on, i wanted a piece of the action.”

luke looks at you, teetering the line between frustration and awe. “so, instead of telling me about this bet and finally having everything out in the open, you got in on it and kept me in the dark, just to get someone else to do your laundry?”

“you know how much i hate laundry,” you shrug. “besides, like you wouldn’t do the same if you had been in my position.”

“well….” you raise an eyebrow. “yeah. i would,” luke admits.

despite everything, luke is a son of hermes. he’s pretty sure that’s part of why you love him: for his mischievous grins and vices that were woven into his dna, imposed by the fates themselves. the urge to gamble, steal, sneak around, all the lying — everything you couldn’t help but indulge in, as well. clearly.

you smile, and pull the front of his shirt towards you, kissing him like you’re proving a point. if luke wasn’t so preoccupied, he could have heard silena squealing in delight.

“ow!” you groan as luke bites your lip.

luke smirks. “karma,” he teases, relishing in how you pout for him.

“get a room,” clarisse grumbles.

“preferably not in the hermes cabin, please,” chris cringes, and this time luke is the one to shove his shoulder.

it’s a little too silent in the arena, and luke realizes it’s because you’d all just given them quite a show. a few campers were watching eagerly, while others didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest, only taking advantage of the lack of supervision to goof off. luke tells the campers to keep practicing; you tell your friends to give you and luke some privacy.

“40 drachmas that they’ll break up at the end of summer,” chris offers, and luke really wishes that he’d shut up.

“nah, i think it’ll be sooner,” clarisse adds. “maybe right after the solstice.”

“i don’t know, guys. i have a good feeling about this one,” beckendorf says. “i think they’re gonna last.”

“thank you, charlie. i think they’re soulmates,” silena muses.

luke watches as the corners of your mouth turn up slightly, listening to your friends as they walk away.

“so.” he hooks a finger through one of your belt loops to get your attention again. “everyone knows.”

“everyone knows.” you smile at him. “so, what do you think, tiger? are beck and lena right — that we’re gonna last?”

he can sense that there’s something more behind your teasing inflection. you’re gnawing on the inside of your lip, discreetly picking at your nail polish.

even with the front you put up, sarcastic and cutthroat and sharp as your celestial bronze knife, you still had a heart. and here you were, looking at luke like he had already stolen it, and you didn’t care.

you were just waiting to know if he would break it.

but, luke doesn’t have the heart to tell you how this is going to end.

how could he? he’d given up his to you, years ago.

he can keep pretending, for now, so he will.

“i’d bet my life on it.”

#yeah....this is def angstier than i thought it would be #also i feel like you can really tell ive been rewatching twilight with all the biting + blood....#but i guess that's the vibe??#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan pjo #pjo show #pjo series #pjo fanfic #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #saf writes

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luffyvace · 3 months

Text

✌︎ Sitting in Zoro’s Lap hcs ✌︎

I just felt like doing these<3 I don’t usually do concepts and I’m testing out the waters so they’ll likely be short ;3 also I wanna do more than just relationship hcs bc it’ll be more fun ✌︎

enjoy zoro simps cuz y’all definitely be on my acc 💖

At first he feels it’s kinda pointless

like he’s thinking “why would you wanna sit on my lap?!—sit on a chair or- just- somewhere else!...even the floor or something idk?!!”

but however you somehow convince him to let you, whether that’s bribery (swords or alcohol), sitting on him anyway or schmoozing him over into letting you,

you did it!!

And that’s all that matters :)

he probably got tired of your relentless request and just let you eventually

While you sit on him he’s usually sleeping sitting up, drinking alcohol or just relaxing with his eyes closed

When you sit facing him it’s a little more comfortable for him

he prefers it that way

sometimes you lay your head on his shoulder/chest and fall asleep on him

he’ll scoff either way but he gets a bit annoyed if he was trying to do something that requires getting up

Like training for example

If he wasn’t too busy in the first place then he just scoffs and probably takes a nap himself

if he’s not tired he waits for you to get up

he doesn’t like to stir you from sleep but if it’s important like a ship attack he’s kinda rough about doing so- 😀

bro he basically yanks you up and yells your name

not because he’s trying to be mean 🤷‍♀️

Just the fact that if an attack comes your way you won’t be able to dodge—and protecting someone isn’t his thing when fighting, he always tells you to go hide if your weak

uh anyway 😗

When you sit with your back to his chest its comfy but like don’t be surprised if he picks you up and turns you around (i don’t wanna hear anyone saying they’re too heavy bc you obviously must not have seen the weights he lifts on a daily)

sitting like that’s kinda annoying bc having to crane your neck back and to the side is not fun 😬😀

plus you probably hit his jaw a lot-

Or things like

1) he bites his tongue

2) his teeth hit your head (and it hurts for both of you)

3) he spits his alcohol in your hair (when you hit his jaw with your head)

4) you hit your head on his nose

So yeah this position is less common for you guys

Bonus if your hair is long

then he gets his fingernails stuck to it too :)

he prefers you don’t sit on his lap in public

mostly because he doesn’t like the stares that come with it 💁‍♀️

he just feels awkward

If you once again somehow convince him to let you in public however…..

it’ll be the type where he man spreads and you sit on one leg facing him

that way he has a bit more space to move and one of his arms is free

just in case an attack comes that he needs to block

orrrrrr just for simply drinking alcohol 😋

on the merry/sunny he’s more likely to cave in

especially since it’s just the strawhats

unless they make fun of him or smth (especially robin) then he doesn’t mind as much

plus y’all can have some privacy in the crows nest most likely

ngl he pretty comfy to sit on

unless your really tall or smth he’s prob bigger than you

so it’s not like y’all are uncomfortable or squished

zoro after time skip is low key more comfy because you know that dark green coat he wears?

yeah it like bends to create a little chair when he manspreads

and idk if you know what I’m talking about but those who get it do 💗👍

Does he end up liking it?

yes :)

yes he does. :)

Im trying to branch out and do more concepts because it’s more interesting for me to write, and you to read so why not 😊

Hopefully my zoro stans enjoyed !! <3 ⚔️🗡

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 1 month

Note

Hello! It's my first time requesting, I don't know if you will write it or not, but I thought I'll put the idea in, basically when I had this sudden burst of idea for a story where in this story Bucky is sort of a the type of guy who likes to bring girls and ykyk, and unfortunately the reader has a crush on Bucky and they r neighbour so reader would tend to listen to the noises and it would break the reader's heart. One day, she decided to go for a walk when Bucky was *cough* w some random girl, and unfortunately, the reader was attacked from behind, and Steve or Sam found her and brought her to the Medbay, and when Bucky found out his heart broke and he confessed, bc he also has a crush on the reader but don't know how to do handle it so he just go with other girls to push his feelings aside, obv doesn't work. Ending fluff!! Love your work always🫶

You’re The One That I Want » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t want the other girls he has brought home, all he wants is Y/N.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of blood, crying, kissing, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

You covered your ears with your hands and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of the moans coming from Bucky’s apartment next door. You couldn’t help but feel jealous and heartbroken. You’ve had a crush on Bucky since the day you moved in next door to him, but it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t feel the same way about you. He brings a different girl home almost every night. You put on a jacket and grabbed your phone and keys. You decided to take a walk to get your mind off of Bucky having a girl over. The night air felt refreshing. You hadn’t realized how long you were walking when you felt someone grab you from behind and pulled you into a nearby alley. The person covered your mouth to muffle your screams. The next thing you knew, you felt something sharp pierce your left side. Soon your body felt limp and you fell to the ground, everything went dark after that. Steve was walking down the street when something caught his eye in the alley. He cautiously entered the alley and seen a person lying on the ground unconscious. Something about this person seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He crouched down and carefully rolled the person over. His eyes widened when he seen your face.

“Y/N, it’s Steve. Can you hear me?” Steve says.

That’s when he felt something wet. He looked down and seen a pool of blood underneath you. He checked for a pulse. Your pulse was weak, but it was there. Steve picked you up bridal style and took you to the med bay at the Avengers Compound. While the doctors were checking you out, he tried to call and text Bucky, but he didn’t answer.

“Come on, Buck. Answer your damn phone.” Steve says to himself.

Steve was sent to voicemail for what it seems like the hundredth time. He sighed and put his phone in pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Steve knows you’re Bucky’s next door neighbor. He also knows that Bucky would like to know if something bad happened to you.

The next morning, Bucky woke up next to a girl who’s name he didn’t remember. He grabbed his phone and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he seen a lot of miss calls and texts from Steve. He got out of bed to get dressed at the same time the girl woke up. He politely told her that he had to go to work and she left. He then made his way to the Avengers Compound.

“Why did you call and text me so many times last night? Where’s the emergency?” Bucky asks, walking towards Steve.

“It’s Y/N.” Steve says.

“My neighbor Y/N? What’s wrong with her?” He asks.

“I found her with a stab wound and passed out from blood loss in an alley last night.” Steve tells him.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his eyes widened. A bunch of bad scenarios were going through his mind.

“Where is she? Is she awake?” Bucky asks with worry in his voice.

“She’s in the med bay and still hasn’t woke up yet.” Steve says.

Bucky immediately ran to the med bay. His eyes teared up when he seen you in the bed with an IV in your arm and a breathing tube in your nose that’s giving you oxygen. He approached the bed and sat down next to you. Him seeing you in the bed like that almost killed him. He carefully picked up your hand, giving it a kiss and held it. Bucky couldn’t help but feel guilt. If he answered his phone last night, he would’ve been here sooner.

“I’m s-so sorry this happened to you, doll.” His voice cracking. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.” He says with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bucky sniffles and let out a shaky breath. He thought hooking up with girls who aren’t you would push his feelings away about you, but it didn’t work. You’re on his mind 24/7.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but umm…” Bucky paused for a few seconds. “I just want to tell you that I’m in love with you. I thought that seeing girls who aren’t you would push the feelings I have for you away. You’re always on my mind. You’re the one that I want.” He confesses. “If you don’t feel the same way as me, I totally understand.” He says.

He waited a moment, hoping you would wake up after he said that, but you didn’t. Bucky sighed and laid his head on the bed.

“What you said was really sweet.” Natasha says, breaking the silence.

Bucky lifted his head to see Natasha in the doorway. Wanda was standing next to her. They walked in the room and stood next on the opposite side of the bed.

“Thanks, but I doubt that she feels the same way about me.” He says.

“She’ll get through this, Bucky.” Wanda says.

“I hope so.” He says, looking at you.

Something came to Bucky’s mind. He remembered you told him you like red roses. Maybe that’ll help you change your mind about him if you feel differently towards him.

“Can you two do something for me?” Bucky asks, looking at them.

“Of course. Anything.” Natasha says.

“I want to get her roses, but I don’t want to leave her. Can you two get them for me? She likes the red ones.” He says, giving them some money.

“That’s so sweet of you. Of course we’ll do that for you.” Wanda says, taking the money from him.

After they left, Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He lifted one of his hands and moved your hair from your face, admiring your beautiful features. He gently caressed your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin. Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from tearing up. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than for you to wake you up.

“Don’t leave me. Please wake up, doll.” Bucky says, letting his tears free fall.

Bucky laid his head against the bed. You could hear his voice. You also felt his hand holding yours. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting them to adjust to the light. It took you a moment to gather your surroundings. You looked to your right to see Bucky sitting next to the bed.

“B-Bucky?” You say weakly.

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard your voice. A smile grew on his face. Relief washed over him, knowing that you’re alive.

“Oh thank god!” Bucky says, hugging you tightly.

You whimpered in pain when his arm accidentally bumped your wound.

“Shit, sorry.” He apologizes, letting go of you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why your left side is in pain. You lifted your shirt just enough to see bandages on your left side.

“Wh-What happened and where am I?” You asked, looking at him.

“Steve said you were attacked from behind. You’re in the med bay in the Avengers Compound.” Bucky explains.

“Did you find me?” You asked.

“No. Steve found you.” You could hear the sadness in Bucky’s voice. “What’s the last thing you remember?” He asks.

“Uhh…” That’s when it came to you. “You and the girl you brought home last night were- umm enjoying yourselves…” You tried not to sound awkward. “And I didn’t want to hear it so I went on a walk and someone grabbed me from behind. I’m assuming that’s how I got this.” You explained, lifting your shirt to show him the bandages.

Bucky felt even more guilty. He felt like this is his fault. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky apologizes. “I should’ve been there for you.” He says.

You lifted your hand weakly and caressed his cheek, your thumb rubbing across his stubble.

“This isn’t your fault, Bucky.” You say softly.

You looked in his teary blue eyes. Bucky leaned in, kissing you passionately. Steve, Natasha, and Wanda walked in at the same time you two were kissing. Bucky slowly pulled away from you, glancing over to the doorway to see the three of them standing there.

“You have company, doll.” Bucky says.

You looked at the door, smiling when you seen Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda had a vase of red roses in her hands.

“Bucky told me and Nat to get these for you.” Wanda says, placing the roses on the table next to the bed.

“We’ll leave you two alone. We’re happy that you’re awake.” Natasha says, walking out of the room with Wanda following her.

“Steve…” You stopped him in his tracks. “Thank you for saving me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I found you and got you help.” Steve says with a smile before leaving the room.

You turned your head to admired the roses for a moment before turning to face Bucky.

“I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier or not, but I mean every word. If you don’t feel the same way about me, I completely understand. We can go back to being neighbors and-” You silenced Bucky with a kiss.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I moved in next door to you.” You confessed.

Bucky smiles widely and kissed you sweetly and passionately.

“When you’re fully recovered, do you want to go on a date with me?” Bucky asks.

“I’d love that.” You say in almost a whisper.

You scooted over in the bed, whimpering in pain when you moved the wrong way.

“Doll, what are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Lay down next to me.” You say, patting the bed next to you.

Bucky happily laid down next to you, wrapped his arms around you protectively and being careful not to touch your wound.

“You’re staying with me till you’re fully recovered and then I’m going to help you move your stuff to my apartment.” Bucky says.

“We’re not even dating yet and you want me to move in with you.” You say, looking up at him.

“You’re my girl now and that means I want you to live with me.” He says.

You smiled and kissed his stubbly cheek. You laid your head on his chest, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Bucky kissed the top of your head, smiling to himself when the two of you finally got each other to yourselves.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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n3ptoonz · 3 months

Note

Hi I’m a bit embarrassed to say this lol, that’s why I’m anonymous. Can you please write headcanons for Bi Han, Liu Lang, Geras, Tomas and Raiden with someone who uh, really really likes to suck their cockk 🫣

😳

i sure as hell can anon🫦

explicit content under the cut

Sub-Zero

knowing bi han stubborn ass he's gonna claim it gets in the way whenever you ask more often than not, but as soon as he picks up on your fixation...you can literally do no wrong

most times he takes control, other times the dome is so overwhelmingly good he grunts constantly and gets lightheaded, but don't tell nobody 🤫

you'd be surprised with the amount of praise he gives you. it would even go to point of him noticing differences and similarities between present and past with how skilled you were. leave it up to him to make everything into fighting terms (he doesn't know how to express his emotions give him a moment😹)

Liu Kang

at a loss for words tbh. he knew you loved getting intimate with him but specifically giving him oral caught him off guard. this is only bc he's used to being dominant and making sure your pleasure comes first that he's like woah, you're quite eager there 😲

he wouldn't be one to deny you though. in a way he's still prioritizing your pleasure since you are indeed receiving it from giving him head, and was not one to ever complain!

he's not one to have or show his ego, but damn, the lewd sounds that come from your mouth and the sight of you clearly enjoying yourself does make him feel like the luckiest god there is. to have you all to himself in this portion of his lifetime is the absolute highlight and he'll never forget it

Geras

ik geras isn't some giant monster man but he absolutely has a giant monster co-

you can barely even reach past the middle, and you want to keep doing that? okay, he thinks, by all means do what makes you both happy in the end

secretly worried for your jaws and sometimes your throat. he's gonna keep asking if you're okay and would prob be very confused/concerned if tears started falling from trying to take all of him. you gotta explain it's all part of the process and you enjoy it. he might not ever understand everything about mortals, but he sure loves the pleasure while he learns

Smoke

i 1000% believe that tomas is super sensitive around his dick. like, regular sex is already one thing. but...superb head from you? he MIGHT just die

theoretically speaking you wouldn't be able to pin him down while you suck him off but a girl can dream, let's throw logic out the window real quick. he'd lose his fucking mind and start muttering praises in czech

he does prefer to pleasure you BUT who would he be to say no to you?? he gets bomb head on a regular basis and a hot partner to do it. he wouldn't even have time to ask you for it because you keep telling him you will/you want to. if you really bout it, you'll discover he'd definitely be into getting oral in a secluded public space like the bathroom or training room

Raiden

like i always say, he may come off as a shy cutie (which he is) BUT when that dark side comes out it's over

i feel like he's a switch. so, whenever you ask if you can do a lil vacuum action it always starts the same way, but never ends the same way

it starts with him shyly agreeing letting you do your thing then bam, he either starts pushing your head down more and makes you go at the pace he wants OR you're just too good and make him squirm, buck, whine, and tremble. it's always a gamble but hey, i like these odds, don't you? you two equally go back and forth with pleasuring each other and he even worries he'd get selfish but like who cares mf im tryna hear you 😮‍💨

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #tomas vrbada #smut #mk smut #smoke mk #geras mk #geras x reader #smoke x reader #tomas mk1 #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #bi han x reader #liu kang x reader #raiden mk1 #raiden x reader

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soobnny · 10 months

Text

classmate au | sim jake

❝ i’m sorry we only got 26/30 on this worksheet ❞

jake…

oh jake.

student athlete and math genius jake

you’re in the same class but he feels so far because he hangs out with his rly pretty friends

u can only look from afar

he’s always a tiny bit late to class

always drawing attention to his pretty boy face 😞

at 7:30, the bell rings and classes start

at 7:31, jake walks into class late

but the teachers always give him a pass bc how could they not when he smiles at them like that and apologizes like that

even ur teachers are down bad

he probably becomes your class representative for that one strict teacher’s class bc they always have a soft spot for jake

u want the deadline of the homework extended? ask jake to message them

he sits in the middle seats

not too prim and punctual to be at the front

but still likes school enough not to completely goof around at the back

sometimes your math teacher lets you do quizzes and worksheets by pair

(it’s the only way some of you can get a passing grade)

by statistics and some type of sampling, you end up getting partnered up with jake

“hi, good morning,” he’d greet with his infamous smile

now you get why all the teachers swoon for him

he’s so cute. this is going to be a problem

this is going to be a BIG problem

you were already bad at math, and now there’s a big pretty distraction sitting next to you

though, tbh, you were also relieved when you heard your name with his bc he’s ltrly known as a math genius

he’s one of the students that teachers excuse for their math contests

and wait 😭 did he just say something to u? did he ask about a formula bc u honestly have no clue

“(name)?” he’d shake your shoulder gently and it’s enough to bring you back on earth

“sorry, did you ask something?”

“oh, i’m done … if u wanted to compare answers? or if u trust me enough?”

you trust him enough

he’s ltrly THE carry

jake will speedrun differential calculus like he’s writing the alphabet

uh oh.

why does he look so HOT with his pencil and the way he writes numbers

you’re going insane

you should never be paired with jake ever again

but by some twist of fate, you always end up as jake’s partner in numerous activities

lab work and experiments and communication reports?

“jake and (name),” the teacher would announce

ofc… typical of friends, they HAVE to push you around as you walk to your seat beside jake’s

while you’re of great help with anything else, you’re starting to feel bad about his literal carry in math tho

“are you sure it’s ok? i’m just rly horrible i’m sorry,” you’d apologize

he would just laugh and dismiss your concerns

“nooo, it’s okay. i’m fine! i can tell you didn’t get enough sleep last night”

(you spent the night binging a new show that came out)

your stomach doesn’t feel so good after that one.

who gave him the right to NOTICE things now???

when your teacher returns your paired worksheets, he has the GALL to apologize

a big fat 29/30 will be written on top and he’d say “oh i’m sorry we had one mistake 😕” like BOY SHUT UP !!!!

after your partner shenanigans, you’d start talking more in the classroom

he’d give u a fist bump if u bumped into each other in the hallways while walking with ur respective friend groups

sometimes even shout your name to get your attention only to wave at you

“why are you smiling like that?,” sunghoon would ask accusingly

and you know what? jake has no shame

“(name). she’s pretty cute, no?”

BYE absolutely no shame

so now, when he speedruns an activity, you’ll find him hovering around you until he starts to make conversation

if the teacher leaves early ?? suddenly he’s transported to the seat next to yours and flirting

being friends with jake is chaotic…. bc that would automatically mean being friends with HIS loud ass friends

pretty friends have upgraded to pretty LOUD friends

they’re so annoying too

“jake and (name), can you buy us water?”, heeseung would ask

WHY R U BUYING WATER FOR HEESEUNG

but jake’s already taking your hand and dragging you away bc he will take every opportunity to hang out with you alone

BTW computer science god idk i just got the vibes

during valentines that year, he codes you a little website please end me

mind you, you aren’t even together yet

he just codes for you as a friend 😂😂😂 as if anyone’s believing that

oh and he also avails those anonymous services so you’ll just be receiving flowers from the student council throughout the day

“oooooh, who are those from,” he would be smiling like it’d be so painfully obvious it’s from him

“do you like them?” NOOOOOOO he just wants to know ok!!! tell him you love them please

OK back to normal no more valentines

when class dismisses, you’d find him lounging around the basketball court with heeseung

sweaty….. wet hair…. oh dear

jake is a sight to see when he’s playing basketball

u usually sit at the bleachers anyway bc ur friends enjoyed watching

he is SOOOOO annoying esp now that you’ve grown closer over the months

he’d make stupid plays and draw attention to you 100%

“if i get this shot in, will you go on a date with me?”

cue the screams and the teasing and the fake vomiting as you’re pushed around

OFC he makes the shot

he’s sim jake, math genius AND student athlete

“so, tomorrow after class?”

“huh?? i thought you were joking??”

“what? no! have i not been obvious? i ltrly flirt with you evry chance i get??”

“well… idk! maybe you do that with everyone!”

“only you”

OK WISH I WERE YOU THEN 😒😒😒😒😒

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

Text

Abby Anderson head-cannons/ relationship HC’s

An: this is like my modern Hc! Only the cannon in game apocalypse version

Tw: nsfw towards the end

Humble about her title in the WLF

Goes to the gym twice a day, once in the morning once at night plus gas break days once or twice a week

High Proteine girly

Knows Damn well that the gay girls at the WLF thirst over her

COUGH lesbian COUGH

Will keep Alice after hours sometimes just because

It’s literally cannon her and manny have competitions for who do what in the apartment

Is a perfectionist

If your in a relationship she’ll take you to the gym and make you try to lift her weights

Actually really likes to cook

If she wasn’t a solider she would of became a medic like her father

Has a shitty green thumb, can not keep a plant alive if her life depended on it

Speaks Spanish to a small degree bc of manny

Once her and manny had hooked up with the same girl — NOT TOGETHER I meant like Abby hooked up with someone THAT FUCKING SCIENTIST first then manny ended up hooking up with the same woman later on down the line.

Makes the worst jokes ever but ppl laugh bc their to scared to offend her

Street smart not book smart

When fall comes around mannys dad still celebrates dia de los Muertos, being that manny and Abby are close manny invited Abby one year to celebrate with them and they made an ofrenda for Abby’s father

Relationship wise she’s actually really caring

You and Abby met most likely in the WLF, whether it’s from you helping her on an assignment, nursing her to health in the infirmary or her helping you with the animals you two just met at the WLF while helping one another

You of-course had heard of Abby multiple times but you.. this was Abby’s first time meeting or hearing abt you and shit she knew she was heads over heels in the first moment you met

Abby spent months deciding over if you were actually into her or not — one night after you two got drunk together Abby confessed and one thing let to another you two decided to plan a date

Abby freaked out like actually leg shaking anxious breath worried if she would fuck up.

She did, the day of the date she had bailed on you due to being put on an imporant assigment by Isaac

After wards she found you had a small argument with you before finally kissing you

That’s how you two ended up together

(I’m writing a fic abt this btw wait for that coming soon 😈🙏🙏🙏🙏)

She’s the type to find you souvenirs while she’s out patrolling

Will make deals with the gardeners to get you a bouquet of flowers

Every Saturday she kicks manny out and sets up the apartment so you two can have a date, doesn’t matter if your fighting and not on speaking terms you two always have the date Abby makes sure, once you Didn’t show up and Abby actually picked you up- threw you over her shoulder and carried you to the apartment

Most ppl when they write smut for Abby is alays like she’s fucking the ever living daylights out of you and calling you names but personally I don’t think Abby would do that (not that’s there’s anything wrong with those fanfics I eat that shit up everytime)

I think Abby is more of a soft lover. She takes her time and whispers sweet nothings, she’ll tell you how perfect you are and how you were blessed by the goddess of love herself

She can get a little rough though, she’s the type to while nuckles deep into you she’ll praise you for how well your doing

She’s a switch, she loves to make you feel good but also wants to be told how much you love her and her body esp her muscles

Abby’s not submissive though it’s just not her style

Went into an abandoned mall once and found a Spencer’s that’s where she managed to find a strap on

She doesn’t really like to use it since in her opinion it takes away from the experience, she doesn’t really like the fact that you want to get off on something that isn’t her

Would never let you use the strap on her tho lmao

Once Owen had drunkly said something to insult you and Abby decked him right then and there mel and manny made her apologize the next day

Insanely protective of you like I said previously she would deck Owen for just insulting you (I also don’t like Owen bc he sucks for cheating on my babe Mel)

If you two argue which is rare Abby’s stubborn but after a while she’ll force you to talk to her. She’s also gonna make you come to an agreement with her and actually communicate how you feel

GODDAMN ABBYS ASS IS FAT sorry I’m watching the remastered version of tlou2 while writing this 😭

Abby’s heavy on communication like she refuses to let one of you go to bed angry

She swears that your the most beautiful person she’s ever met

Abby will go on rants about her dad and tell you silly stories

Your the most important person to Abby and she makes that very clear— if you do patrols she refuses to let you do dangerous patrols only east already cleared areas or only if your with her so she can protect you

Deep down Abby’s scared to loose you like she lost her dad

Every night before she lets you go back to your apartment to sleep or if your sleeping over Abby will give you soft kisses and tell you how much she loves you before letting you go

That’s its 😝

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #the last of us fanfiction #abby headcanons #abby x reader #tlou

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wowconradfisher · 11 months

Text

all of the girls you’ve loved before

pairing: min ho x reader

genre: slight angst, best friends to lovers, they are both so dense to each others feelings..

summary: being best friends with KISS’s resident “heart throb” is not for the weak. falling in love with him isn’t either, so what happens when the line between best friend and boyfriend becomes too blurred?

a/n: hi hello i am back from the dead. i’m convinced this acc is just gonna be a jenny han-iverse fic acc bc if not conrad then i’m writing about min ho. i have ended school so i hope i am more consistent with writing! feel free to send in requests + questions btw :D i hope u guys enjoy this silly fic that is also based off a taylor swift song hence the title!

Sitting outside of your best friend’s party that he throws every year was not something you thought you would be doing. You were convinced that this time was going to be different, and maybe just because you were seeing Min Ho in a different light, he would see you too. Here you still were, all dolled up but with no guts to walk into the party. You sighed, thinking about how pathetic you might be looking at the moment to anyone walking by. It was annoying in your opinion, just a month ago you couldn’t stand the thought of being with your best friend but now you’re starting to second guess and think more about the times you’ve spent together.

It was about 2 weeks ago when you and Min Ho, well more so you, started kind of overthinking the things you two would do together. You used to think that it was just regular best friend things you did, like talking about your past lovers and flings, laughing about all of the late nights you both have spent on your own having lame fights on the phone. But then you start thinking about the other nights, sneaking out past curfew and holding onto each other's hands in hopes of not getting caught. Or the way he would treat you the way he would never treat anyone else, allowing you to see his softer side, doing silly things like letting you do his skin care after he knows you’ve been crying in his bathroom about some dude that said “loved you” not knowing how carelessly he’s throwing out the words that mean so much to you. You see yourself doing the regular “best friend duties” like never saying bye to each other because you know you’ll be seeing each other again anyways, but you know it shouldn’t bother you when you see the new transfer student Madison write your best friend’s name in a heart all over her assignment.

You shook yourself out of your daze and stood up, you knew it was wrong for you to be feeling this way about your best friend and there was no reason for you to start feeling this way now. Looking at your phone’s reflection to fix up your makeup, you took a deep breath and confidently made your way to the venue. Walking in and seeing a bunch of lights and loud music was expected, but tonight your goal was to forget about how you felt and let the universe tell you what to do.

“Excuse me ma’am who let you out looking so good?” a voice spoke from behind you while tapping you on the shoulder.

You turned around and to your surprise it was one of your other close friends, “Q oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in like a week!” you exclaimed while pulling him into a hug, not failing to notice Florian behind him. Once you pulled away you waved at the other male who signaled to his flask, basically asking you if you wanted a shot. You grinned and suddenly all of your prayers had been answered and your night had begun.

If you were being honest, you knew you weren’t a light weight. You always thought of yourself as someone who could just drink enough to not be a heavy weight and be at the perfect level of tipsy where you can feel the buzz. This is the point where you had to go out to the dance floor because of how free it made you feel, not a single care or worry in the world. That was until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder. You turned around to see a guy, a random one you have never seen before around KISS. You could admit he was a bit attractive but not as attractive as Min Ho.

Looking up at the stranger you let out a forced smile, “Hi?” you spoke, but sounded more like a question

“Couldn’t help but notice a pretty girl dancing all by herself, you looking for someone to dance with?” the guy asked as he tried to put his hand on your waist.

You backed away before you suddenly felt someone behind you put their hand around your waist, “Baby I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a boy spoke with an accent you could recognize anywhere. Looking up, you let out a soft genuine smile at the sight of your best friend.

Min Ho cleared his throat and saw the guy was still there, “Hey man I don’t know if you noticed but she’s my girl, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit on her,”

The guy furrowed his brows at Min Ho before quickly realizing who he was, “Oh shit sorry man I didn’t know,” he quickly muttered out

“You’re lucky I didn’t have you kicked out. Now leave us alone, yeah?” Min Ho replied, shooing the other guy away.

Once the guy was gone, Min Ho held onto your hand and led you to a more secluded area away from the party. He looked at you and caressed your cheek, “You okay Y/N?” he spoke softly

You looked up at your best friend and took in the way he looked at you. The way he looked at you made you feel so delicate, like you were the only person that mattered to him. You broke out of your daze and just nodded at him, “Thank you Min, I think it’s time for me to head out now though,” You spoke

Min Ho frowned, but it looked more like a pout to you, “But I just found you,” he spoke, “and we didn’t even get to dance yet,”

You took his hand that was on your cheek and held it, “I know, I’m sorry I’m just not in the mood for it anymore,” you replied softly

After hearing your response, it was like something in Min Ho clicked, causing him to hold your hand again, “Okay, let’s go then,” he spoke like it was no big deal

“Let’s go? What do you mean? Like you’re gonna just ditch your party?” You asked in disbelief

He nodded, “Uh yeah duh? Why would I stay at a party that my best friend doesn’t even want to be at?”

There was that word again, it just keeps dangling over you and taunting you everytime you think you guys could be something more than just friends. Hearing his response just made you let out a small smile. Him pretending to be your boyfriend just lets you have a glimpse of what you weren’t but what you could be, truly it does break your heart but what can you really do about it. After that night, he just dropped you off back at your dorms, you didn’t even have the energy to invite him in like how you guys usually do. It did feel awkward just leaving him but you needed this. Your heart needed it.

You did feel bad for ghosting everyone. It had been a week since the party and you needed to shut down and take time for yourself to really think about what you wanted to do about your feelings for Min Ho. After being by yourself for a week and doing your work online, you felt like you really did learn a lot about yourself, and that in order to get over your feelings for your best friend, you had to accept that you had those feelings in the first place.

During this week of you ghosting everyone, you weren’t the only one in question about their emotions. Min Ho to say the least has been snappier than ever to everyone. Most times, whenever you were around he would be at his nicest, you were someone who humbled him and brought him back to Earth but without you? He truly was something and someone you did not want to cross. The boy is a mess, he doesn’t know how long ago you guys haven’t talked for this long. Even if it was just a week, it felt like years. One thing Min Ho will do for you but never admit or do for anyone else is giving you space.

If he’s being honest with himself, he tried so incredibly hard not to fall for you or do anything that can potentially jeopardize his relationship with you but the moment he saw you at his party looking the way you did dancing on the dance floor, he knew he was done for. That’s why the whole week he has been so upset with himself for doing what he did that night, for calling you baby, for pretending to be your boyfriend, all of it, because now you weren’t even talking to him. It wasn’t until you texted him asking if he could come over where he finally felt the feeling of anxiousness leave his body.

Min Ho was standing at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, debating on when to knock. That was until you beat him to it and just opened the door after hearing his shuffling from behind the door. Genuinely you were surprised, you didn't expect him to show up so fast, and with your favorite flowers too?

"Hi Min," you spoke with a smile before opening your door to let him in, "Come in please, you've been here countless of times so don't get shy on me now,"

He chuckled, taking off his shoes before stepping into your dorm, placing them among your other shoes and then following you to your room. Before sitting down, he handed you the flowers, "Here Y/N, I got you your favorites,"

"What's the occasion Min?" you asked taking the flowers and admiring them before placing them on your lap

"I just missed you that's all," he replied before sitting down next to you

You cleared your throat and started fiddling with your hands, "Min Ho I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while," you spoke, "But if I'm honest I want to say I'm sorry for ghosting you for a week, I just needed time to figure out what I was feeling,"

Min Ho grabbed onto your hands and held them, preventing you from fiddling with your hands and causing you to look up at him, "It's okay Y/N, you know I would give you all the time in the world," he replied

Staring into his eyes, you knew you had to say it now or else you would never want to say it, "Min Ho, I'm in love with you," you said feeling so much lighter with that confession alone, "I think I always have been, but I wanted to be sure of it before I told you. I don't know when it exactly happened, but at one point the lines between being my best friend and wanting something more with you started to blur. So please tell me now if I'm just overthinking this whole thing and maybe I'm the only one who feels this way but-" you spoke before Min Ho leaned in to kiss you.

Your eyes widened in shock for a second before you closed your eyes finally kissing him back, melting into his touch and putting your hand onto his chest. If you could describe what the best thing that has happened to you, it would be this moment alone. The way your lips moved together in perfect synchronization, like you were both made for each other. Truly it could not compare to anything you've ever felt before.

Once you both pulled away, your forehead rested against Min Ho's, "You drive me crazy Y/N, I never even thought I had a chance with you but I'm so thankful all of our past romances led me here to you," he spoke

You smiled at his response, "So does that mean you love me too?"

"I love you more than words can describe, I mean I can show you in actions too?" He replied with a smirk

"Min Ho!" you gasped, playfully hitting his shoulder

He laughed at your reaction, "I'm kidding! I mean unless you were serious?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at the boy you were thankful to be in love with. At least this time you were sure this would be real.

#min ho x reader #xo kitty #min ho xo kitty #tatbilb #sang heon lee #min ho x kitty #netflix #Netflix x reader #xo kitty x reader #sang heon lee x reader #to all the boys trilogy #to all the boys ive loved before movie #x reader #y/n #min ho x y/n #kitty song covey

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muldermuse · 5 months

Text

two sinners (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

ok so this is feral and I wrote it in a day bc I could feel it rotting away in my brain

Gator Tillman is a horrible guy and reader wants to get him back.

18+ only!!! Smut below. Smut includes piv sex, infidelity (pretty big thing), Gator is mean but so is reader, oral (f receiving), rimming (m receiving), slutshaming, mention of anal (f receiving), mention of cuffs used as restraints, brief nipple play, use of the word whore/slut, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink, stalking???. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

this could be a multi part fic. It was fun to write and I enjoy the dynamic so lemme know if u enjoyed!!!

He’s barely out of you by the time he says it this time. “That’s the last fuckin’ time I do this shit, we’re done”. He spits it at you like it’s acid on his tongue.

You’re lying on your bed completely naked as his come is slowly dripping out of you onto your linen. The first few times you’d done this, you put on fresh linen and lit a floral candle. He never appreciated it so you stopped. His statement would hurt you a lot more if this wasn’t becoming a regular occurrence. It’s become a routine; something it was never supposed to be.

He visits your home, fucks you however you want him to, makes you come as many times as he can, he feels guilt as soon as he finishes, he splashes cold water over his face in your en suite bathroom (leaves it in puddles across your tiled floor and organised surfaces) and then grabs his things and storms out. He’ll be back before the end of the week- he always is.

You’re getting tired of it. It should be harder now he has a girlfriend and you’re seeing a few guys from the local area. But it isn’t. You’re unsure why.

He tells you he hasn’t slept with Glenda yet. His daddy loves her, thinks she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen and he’s been vocal about his dislike of you. You think he’s a fucking idiot so you guess it’s good that the feeling is mutual. Gator can’t be with anyone his daddy doesn’t like, you’ve heard him brag about how he could get any gal he wants but you know it’s not true. You’re pretty sure that Gator knows that as well deep down.

You were sleeping together before he got with Glenda. Glenda is a church girl and his daddy’s protege. Roy sets them up and tells Gator he’s been blessed to have Glenda enter his life. Whereas, Roy thinks you have sin in your heart and you know that you do. You believe him that he hasn’t slept with her yet, if he does- it makes the whole relationship real. This is something that you know Gator is trying to avoid. His head is buried deep beneath the sand and he’s trying to find air holes to catch his breath before he suffocates.

You’re sleeping with other people, like Jax from the local store and Steve from the bar. Neither know about each other or about your Gator situation. Jax and Steve take you out on dates and fuck you in their cars and their homes. It’s passionate and sweet. It’s filled with promises and hope. Gator fucks you like he’s trying to get expel something deadly from his body. Gator’s a terrible person and you know that you are too. This is why you’re done with him, not for Glenda or Roy Tillman. Certainly not for Jax and Steve. You’re done because you want him to want you more than he ever has before. He’s an asshole and you want him more desperate than ever for you. You hear him spit in your sink as he comes back into the bedroom.

“You say this shit all the time Gator. What if I’m done with you huh?” You’re still naked and you can feel his cum drying on your inner thighs.

“You’re the one who always comes crawlin’ back to me remember? Jus’ a fuckin’ whore- that’s why I liked usin’ you though so don’t take it personal”. He giggles cruelly as he shrugs his jacket back on.

His words don’t hurt, a few months ago they would’ve made your stomach drop and tears prick in your eyes. But now? It just fuels you.

“Go back to Glenda, Gator”. That will hurt him. You never say her name, you only do it because that sentence is the equivalent of a scorching red hot poker branding his sensitive skin.

“Don’t say her fuckin’ name”. Anger flashes across his eyes. “I am so fuckin’ done with you and I mean it”. You want to laugh at how powerful he perceives his words to be.

“You say fuckin’ shit you don’t mean all the time Gator. It’s like breathing to you”. You wrap a bedsheet around you and get up to stand in front of him.

“That’s it then, you’re done with this right?” He nods. “I don’t wanna see your fuckin’ face or hear from you again. Don’t text me, don’t casually come into my work and don’t fuckin’ turn up here.

Get the fuck out of my fuckin’ house, Gator”

***

Two weeks pass with nothing. You can’t say you’re not impressed. He doesn’t glance at you when you see him on the street. He doesn’t call or text.

Glenda shares pictures on Facebook of the pair of them. She looks happy and he looks uncomfortable. You think that that sums up the entire relationship. You know he’s going to break and speak to you; it’s just waiting.

You carry on seeing Jax and Steve. Jax takes you to a drive in movie theatre and goes down on you on the backseat for the entire movie. He buys you your favourite candies and chips for the ride there and back. He makes you laugh and asks if you want to make it official- you tell him you don’t. He asks when he can see you again.

Steve takes you to a new steakhouse. He gets you a bottle of red wine and when you don’t like how your steak is cooked; he swaps your plates. You go back to his place and ride him on the couch in his living room. You spend the entire time thinking about how you couldn’t do this with Gator because he lives with his daddy. Before you leave, Steve gives you a necklace with your birthstone on. He tells you how much you mean to him, you thank him and drive home.

You don’t miss Gator. You don’t feel positively about him at all. You just like that he wants you and you like the power you hold over him. If you wanted to ruin his life you could. You could tell his daddy and Glenda that he loves fucking a sinner. That he’s fucked you in every possible way they could imagine and he loves it. You could tell them about how he’s been that pussydrunk on you; he’s told you he’s in love with you. Or maybe about how after you ate his ass on his daddy’s dining room table, he told you he wanted to run away with you and that he’d already looked into it and started storing money away. You didn’t say anything back to him, you just stored away these love drunk confessions so you could use them against him.

Gator Tillman is the worst guy you know.

And he makes you feel fucking powerful.

***

It takes 4 weeks in total for him to break.

[received on Monday at 04:32] Gator🐍💩: are u going to the church potluck on Saturday

[received on Monday at 10:12] Gator🐍💩: just bc u went last year, know it’s not ur scene tho.

[received on Monday at 15:05] Gator🐍💩: im goin with Glenda so just don’t want it to be awkward

[received at Tuesday at 01:54] Gator🐍💩: ?? Do you have a new number?

He calls you three times on Wednesday.

You ignore every text and every ring.

His patrol car is parked over the street from you on Thursday. He knows you leave for work at half 6 in the morning. You know you’ll see him again, probably during lunch as he is so fucking predictable. Every Thursday, you go for a bagel at a local deli because you love the mid week special. You can already picture his car parked outside there on the curb waiting for you. So you know it’s a great time to invite your new, very handsome, colleague called Jenson along. Jenson is new to the department and is a quarterback for a local team. He’s made his attraction to you pretty clear, he brings in a coffee for you every morning and has asked you out for drinks before.

You offer to drive Jenson to the deli and, of course, Gator’s car is parked out front. He sees you but you don’t look at him. You can feel his eyes burning into you and Jenson. You grip Jenson’s bicep and throw your head back in a giggle and something mediocrely funny that he said. As you get closer to Gator’s car, you politely smile at him and squeeze Jenson’s arm tighter.

[received on Thursday at 21:45] Gator🐍💩: Jenson Ackerley????? really??? that guys a fuckin asshold

[received on Thursday at 22:35] Gator🐍💩: *asshole

Instead of replying to Gator, you spend Thursday evening exchanging flirty texts with Jenson. You invite him to the Potluck on Sunday and ask if he wants to come back to your place for dessert.

***

He reaches new levels of desperation on Friday.

“Hi, it’s Joe on reception. I’m really sorry to disturb you on your lunch. I have Sheriff Tillman here and he just wants to come to your office if that’s okay?”

You’re sat alone preparing for the rest of your day when Joe’s call comes through. Jenson has finished early for the day and gave you a bouquet of flowers before he left. He smiled when he gave them to you and said he couldn’t wait to spend the day with you on Sunday.

You’re excited as well but for a different reason.

“Hi Joe, I’m sorry but can you tell Gator that I’m just having my lunch with Mr Ackerley so I don’t have time for a chat”

You can hear Gator speaking in the distance after Joe relays your message to him.

“He says it will only take a few minutes”

“Can you apologise for me Joe and tell him that Mr Ackerley and I will see him on Sunday at his Father’s potluck”

You hear Joe recite the message verbatim for Gator. Although you can’t see it, you can imagine the look of disgust on his face and it makes you grin.

You spend Friday evening texting Jenson and telling him in detail what you’re going to do when you get back to your home on Sunday. He asks if you want to ‘skip straight to dessert’ and miss the potluck. You tell him you can’t because you’re planning to see a friend. You don’t tell him who it is.

***

You wear an outfit you know Gator will love on Sunday. It’s a pale green flouncy dress which pushes your tits up and looks amazing. Your hair is half up half down and your make up is dewy with a strawberry scented lip gloss brushed over your lips. You text Jenson and ask him to bring an extra coat for you to wear because you’ll be cold. He doesn’t ask why you don’t just wear your own.

Jenson tells you how beautiful you look on your doorstep and he hands you another bouquet. It’s white peonies and he says it nearly matches your outfit. As you laugh at him, you pull his face to yours to kiss him. He drives to the potluck in his truck and you listen to a country album he’s been telling you about. You haven’t brought a meal but Jenson’s mom has made some pasta salad so you’ll pass that off as your own. His hand stays on your upper thigh the entire ride.

The first person you see at the potluck is Glenda. She looks great, you have to admit. Her blonde hair is in a tight bun sitting at the nape of her neck. Her dress is long, black and covers her body. A diamond crucifix hangs around her neck and you know that Roy made his son buy that for her as a token of his love for her.

You and Glenda don’t get on. You know she doesn’t suspect anything about you and Gator; her mind wouldn’t even dare think about it. You’ve known her since high school and you could lie and say that the only reason you don’t like her is because you existed in different social groups. It isn’t because of that. It’s because Glenda is a truly and fundamentally awful person. You recognised in your younger years that she enjoyed making people miserable. Shaming people about their relationships to god and judging everyone from afar.

She smiles politely at Jenson as he puts his hand on your lower back. She tries not to scowl at you as you hand her the dish of pasta salad. You know she thinks you look like a slut, she’ll definitely run to her friends and tell them about how disgraceful it is that you’ve come into a church community looking like a whore. You smile harder when you think about how Gator has fucked you in his patrol car whilst you wore this dress.

Jenson goes to the grand table in the centre of the hall. As he’s pouring a cup of punch for both of you, he gets accosted by two of Glenda’s friends who take their time complimenting him all the while smirking at you. You feel a presence next to you, you cross your arms to push your tits higher as you turn around.

“Oh, hi Roy, didn’t hear you sneakin’ up on me”. Your grin to him is saccharine and he snarls in response.

“I don’t remember invitin’ you to this, for the church community only. A community you are not part of so it’s time to go”. His voice is gruff and as you go to respond; you see Gator.

You make eye contact across the hall. He looked stressed and then as soon as he saw you; it flickered to what you can only imagine is rage. Glenda is talking away at him and he’s not looking at her. His eyes are trailing up and down your body. He recognises the dress. Jenson obscures your view as he stands in front of you holding out a cup of punch. He wraps his arm around you and whispers lowly in your ear that he’s spiked both of your cups with liquor from his flask. You giggle back at him, get on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

Although you think it would be hilarious, you want to avoid an interaction with you, Jenson, Glenda and Gator. At this point, you’re unsure if Gator’s heart could take it. Jenson gets pulled away by Glenda’s friends to help arrange the plates for the potluck dishes and of course he does it. He kisses you before he goes and as your lips touch; your eyes never leave Gator’s.

***

It takes twenty minutes for him to grab your wrist and pull you into an empty room. Everyone is too preoccupied with grabbing plates to notice you both leave.

“Real fuckin’ nice. Comin’ here dressed like a fuckin’ slut and can’t keep your fuckin’ hands off some shitty quarterback. You know what people think of you, right?” He’s in your face, the spit from his lips is hitting your mouth and cheeks.

He’s so mad.

And, of course, you fucking love it.

“Surprisingly Gator, I don’t give a fuck what your fuckin’ church girl or asshole daddy think of me…I know what you think about me though”. You move in closer to him and he doesn’t try to back away. His eyes bore into yours and you can hear him try to steady his breath. You can imagine his heart thundering away in his chest. You rest your hands on his vest and slowly unzip it.

“You think I’m a good girl. You’ve said it before- remember? You’ve said it when you fucked me in your patrol car…”

Your fingers move to unbutton his shirt.

“You whispered it to me when Glenda was downstairs and you had me on my knees sucking your cock in your daddy’s bathroom…she had no idea we were in there did she?” You giggle lightly as you feel his heart rate thumping quickly under your fingers.

“And you definitely thought I was a good girl that time you fucked my ass in your bed. Remember? We used the handcuffs, I think you called it me a few times…yeah you definitely did. You said I was such a good fucking girl”.

His shirt is half unbuttoned and his chest is basically heaving under the strain of his rapid heartbeat. You can feel his hard dick pressing into you, you smile at him and take a step back.

“I gotta go though, Jenson is probably waiting for me. We’ll probably shoot off soon, he said- he said, ha, that we’d have dessert back at my place. Who knows? Maybe he’ll get lucky tonight…he probably thinks I’m a good girl too. Maybe I can be his good girl from now on”.

He storms past you, his shoulder barging into yours on his way past and for a second, you’re devastated. Maybe you pushed him too far? Are you going to have to wait another four weeks for him to cave.

But he doesn’t leave.

He just locks the door and pushes a table against it as quietly as he can.

***

He grabs your hips and pulls them towards him.

“You fuckin’ feel that right? You feel how fuckin’ hard you make me. I’ve had this since I fuckin’ left your place four weeks ago. I fuckin’ hate you…I’ve fuckin’ missed you”. You’re not sure you would classify it as a kiss, it’s more like he’s shoving his face against yours.

He runs his hand through your hair and grips it; the power of it forces you to open your mouth. You stick your tongue out and give him your best doe eyes. He smirks and nibbles your jaw. Hard but not hard enough to leave any kind of mark. You maintain eye contact as he spits in your mouth. He raises his eyebrows at you and you swallow without objection. He smirks as you open your mouth and stick your tongue back out.

He kisses your neck and bites it lightly as you fight the urge to run your hands through his hair (Heaven forbid you mess up his slicked back hair).

“Baby, we gotta be quick. They might come lookin’ for us” he mumbles against your neck.

You go to bend over the table pushed against the door but Gator stops you before you can flip your dress up to grant him access.

“No baby, I need to see you. Missed your fuckin’ face too much…wanna watch you get e’en prettier when I make you come”

He kisses you hard as he pushes you down against the table. He gets on his knees in front of you like your pussy is a biblical experience. He kisses your clit through your lace underwear and gently nips it with his teeth.

“Gator, we don’t have time to tease” you try your hardest not to moan outwardly as you speak. You can’t let him know how much he’s affecting you, even though how wet he’s making you has completely given it away.

He rips your underwear off and pulls your tits out of your dress. He takes them between his hands and rolls your nipples with his thumb and forefinger. You can hear him mumbling under his breath but you can’t work out what he’s saying. He always gets transfixed with your boobs.

He doesn’t warn you as he notches his cock into you. You’re wet enough that he slides in with one motion. He’s on your mouth before there’s a chance for a moan to slip out. He thrusts into you slow and deep, he nudges your g spot and your eyes roll back into your head as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

The only sounds filling the room is the soft rhythmic creak of the wooden table, the steady thrusts of Gator’s cock into you and the stifled moans slipping into each others mouths. It’s all too much, the noises, Gator’s cock perfectly grazing your g spot, his tongue in your mouth and the thought that he’s doing this mere feet away from his daddy and girlfriend. Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and as you squeeze his cock, Gator puts his hand over your mouth and shushes you but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Your eyes roll into the back of his head as you hear him curse above you. This is the most intense sex you’ve ever had with him.

It is so worth the wait.

You know he’s getting close; he has obvious tells that you could recite perfectly. His left leg starts to twitch, his mouth slightly hangs open and his eyes glaze over. He also either gets sentimental or speaks like he’s in a shitty Brazzers porn video. This time it’s a mix of the two.

“Take my fuckin’ come, you take it so fuckin’ good. It’s all yours- it’s all yours”. He thrusts hard inside you twice before he stills. He rests his forehead against yours and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You allow yourself a few seconds to enjoy his tenderness.

You readjust your dress as Gator moves the table away from the door. You slip on Jenson’s coat as you walk over to the locked door.

“I meant what I said y’know…I’ve missed you”. Again, you’re back in the routine. You know it well and you can’t deny how much you enjoy it. He’s going to ask to fuck you tonight, he’ll promise that it’ll be special- that’s what he usually says.

He moves to interlock his pinky finger with yours.

“Get rid of Jenson and let me come round tonight. Tell him you’re sick or somethin’. I wanna…I mean… I gotta to make it up to you. I’ll tell Glenda that I picked up an extra shift. That gives us all night an’ we can take our time”.

As you open your mouth to respond, you hear a knock on the door and Jenson’s voice calling out.

“You in there hon? I think I’m gonna head out…really fancy dessert. Y’know, if you catch my drift”.

***

You tell Jenson in the car that you’re not feeling well. He’s a good guy and offers to stay and look after you. When you say no, he asks for a coffee date later this week and you agree.

As you see his reverse out of your driveway; you text Gator that he can come round if he’s here in the next hour.

He’s back in your bed in less than forty minutes.

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