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casualhedonists · 6 months

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

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

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

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

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

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bunnysbrainrot · 2 months

Text

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

#fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #the last of us fanfiction

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 5 months

Text

Oliver Quick X Reader: The birthday boy

Warnings: smut, dom reader, sub Oliver, penetration (p in v), fingering, oral (m receiving), cream pie, mirror sex, dirty talk, cowgirl, choking.

Word Count: 2,4K

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

Oliver turned around at the sound of your voice. He’d been so focused on how everything had gone to shit that he hadn’t really had the time to enjoy the party. His party. You looked pretty, all dressed up in what Oliver could only imagine was supposed to be some sort of fae costume.

You passed him the bottle you were holding. He grabbed it from you and took a swing.

“I guess I'm not.”

“Sorry what?”

It was hard to hear each other through the blaring music. You leaned closer to Oliver so that you could listen better. He tilted his head up so his lips were near your ear.

“You’re right. I'm not having fun.”

You gave him an exaggerated pout before leaning back down to whisper in his ear.

“Want me to change that?”

Oliver looked at you watching the sultry look that made its way into your eyes as you smirked.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Come with me.”

You grabbed Oliver's hands, dragging him through the crowd of people. From time to time someone would try to talk to you but you’d just wave them off. Oliver enjoyed it. He liked feeling like he was more important than those other people. And he was. To you at least.

The entire house seemed to be filled to the brim with people yet somehow the moment you got to the hall that led to your room there wasn’t anyone around. You could sense the questions swimming around Oliver's head.

“It's basic etiquette.”

“What is?”

“Not going near peoples rooms. Rooms are private. Not to be used or seen by anyone other than the owner.”

“I’ve been in the rooms.”

“Well yeah. Cause you’re special.”

Your words sent shivers down Oliver's arms. What had he gotten himself into? Ever since he’d arrived at Saltburn you’d been nothing but kind to him. You understood each other in a way that the others didn't. After all, both of you were only temporary guests here. You were Venetias friend and even though this was the second summer you’d spent at Saltburn you still felt out of place. Oliver's arrival had been a surprise. And a pleasant one at that.

You’d found him wandering the grounds one day and from that moment on the two of you had become close. Even though Oliver had never told you the truth he knew you’d understand. You were like him after all. And perhaps that's why he felt comfortable walking into your room and sitting on your bed. Or maybe it was the silent promise that had filled the air as soon as you’d called out his name downstairs.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,wanna see?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Oliver did as you asked, shutting his eyes and relaxing into your bed. His fingers moved over the silk sheets. He could hear you moving around the room due to the clack of your heels on the floor. Oliver wanted to see what you were up to but he also wanted to be a good boy for you. He knew how much you enjoyed bossing people around. He was quite fond of it too so he decided to force his curiosity out of his brain and channel as much patience as he could.

You observed Oliver as you got ready, a smile spreading across your face as you noticed his head following you around the room. You turned around to look at yourself in the vanity mirror. Once you’d made sure everything was the way you wanted you slipped your heels off and made your way to Oliver. Oliver felt your well manicured hands on his shoulder causing him to instinctively grab onto your waist. You laughed at the action, manoeuvring yourself so that you were sitting comfortably in Oliver's lap. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your neck but his eyes remained shut. You caressed his hair, placing a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ve been a good boy haven’t you?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Didn’t give any peaks right?”

“No.”

“Well then I think good boys deserve rewards don't they?”

Oliver nodded, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

“Go on, Ollie, open your eyes.”

Oliver opened his eyes slowly, a shuddered breath leaving his lips once his gaze caught onto your frame. His hands made their way over the lacy fabric you had on, eyes skimming over the parts of skin that were barely covered.

“Gosh.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh this isn't your gift Ollie. This was just something I got for myself.”

“So what did you get me?”

‘You, my darling boy, get to rip this off me and fuck me until your name is the only thing i still remember how to say.”

Oliver stared at you with his blue puppy eyes. You would never get tired of the way he looked at you. Such devotion. Such desperation. Such lust. You smirked at the brunette.

“You up for it baby?”

“Do you have to ask?”

In a matter of seconds Oliver had managed to drag you off his lap and flipped you around so that you were positioned beneath him. You wrapped your legs around his waist eagerly. Oliver knew you’d told him he was allowed to go fast and as much as his dick begged for him to just plunge into you he had another plan. He took his time kissing your body all over. He loved the whines you’d let out whenever his tongue lapped over your skin. You wanted to tell him to hurry up but it was his birthday so you decided to let him go at his own pace. And boy was it worth the wait.

Oliver's hands found their way to the top of your lingerie, fingers moving slowly against your nipples before deciding to free your breasts. As soon as your tits were free Oliver’s mouth latched onto them. Your hands curled into his hair as he sucked your tits, a moan of satisfaction leaving your lips. Any other time you would have been worried about being too loud but given how loud the music downstairs you had nothing to worry about. Oliver continued his path down your body. Each new patch of skin that was revealed was lavished by his warm tongue before he allowed himself to remove more of your clothing. He eventually got to the part you’d been needing the most attention. His fingers grazed against your hip bone as he tugged the final piece off your body.

“Ass up.”

You did as Oliver asked, lifting your hips off the bed so that he could slip the lace off your body entirely. Oliver hissed as he felt your pussy brush against his dick. You gave him a cheeky smile. He smirked at you and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. Your mouth parted into a moan when you felt him plunge a digit into your cunt. It slipped in with ease. You’d been thinking about this since you stepped out of the shower so it was safe to say that you were soaked. Oliver gave an encouraging moan as he placed another finger inside. He curled his fingers and you moaned.

“Such pretty noises.”

“Ollie…ugh shit.”

You threw your head back, your body rising off the bed as Oliver began moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. You reached out for him, your hands moving towards his neck. He lifted his chin slightly, his eyes closing as he felt your fingers wrap around his throat. You gave him a squeeze causing a broken groan to leave his lips.

“Come on baby. Make me cum.”

Oliver's blue orbs found yours a feral look passing over them before he grabbed onto your leg and pushed it up. The new position allowed him to hit your g-spot perfectly. Your hands tightened around his neck as your eyes rolled back into your head, his name leaving your lips in a loud moan. You heard him moan, his hips launching forward as his fingers kept moving inside you. Even in your euphoric state you could tell Oliver had just cum in his pants and the thought alone made you feel even more desperate to have him inside you. Oliver removed his fingers from your pussy making you let out a whimper. He placed his fingers into his mouth and sucked. You watched him palm himself with one hand as he cleaned your juices off the other one.

“Such a good boy for me.”

You sat up in bed, your hands making their way to Oliver's hips. He removed his hand from his dick so that you could see his cum stained pants.

“You made a mess didn’t you?”

Oliver nodded, removing his fingers from his mouth with a pop.

“Want me to help you clean it up?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes please.”

“That's better.”

You rose to your feet causing Oliver to take a step back. You glanced around the room, your eyes falling on the chair near your vanity.

“How about a change of scenery?”

Oliver looked at where you had gestured to with your head, a small grin forming on his face as he understood what you were suggesting.

“Whatever you want, pretty.”

“Go sit for me. Legs spread and arms behind your back.”

Oliver did as he was told. He walked over to the chair and sat down, making sure it was angled in a way so that you could stay between his legs comfortably and so that he had a view of the mirror before him. Once you saw Oliver had settled in the chair the way you’d told him to you made your way to him. You walked slowly, making sure he could see every inch of your body as you did. Oliver's hands figited behind him and as much as he wished he could just tug you over to him he knew the rules. And he would follow them. Finally you got to Oliver, dropping to your knees before him. You reached for his pants, unbuttoning them as you stared into Oliver's eyes. He let out a breath as your hands found their way into his pants tugging his dick free. He was only semi-hard but you’d fix that in a moment.

“You know the rules baby. No looking.”

Oliver gave you a pout.

“It’s my birthday.”

“Rules are rules.”

He let off a huff before moving his face to the side.

“That's a good boy.”

Oliver watched as his reflections mouth fell open with a moan. HIs brows furrowed as you continued to place kisses and licks on his dick. It was only when you wrapped your lips around him that he realised he could see your reflection. You placed your other mirror directly in front of your vanity which allowed him to watch you without actually looking at you.

“Oh you cheeky thing.”

You glanced at the mirror on the other side of the room blowing Oliver a kiss before moving your attention back to his dick. After a bit of sucking as carresing you managed to get Oliver hard again. You rose to your feet, your fingers going to Oliver's chin. He turned to face you. You smiled down at him.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you aren’t forgetting something?”

Oliver looked at you questioningly.

“Your pants baby.”

Oliver understood immediately, moving to raise his hips so that you could tug his pants off his body. You looked down at his fully nude body with a grin.

“Perfect.”

You moved forward placing your thighs on either side of Olivers. His hands latched on your waist as his lips moved to kiss the valley of your breasts. You wound your hands around Oliver's neck, fingers grasping his hair before giving it a tug.

“Eyes on me baby.”

Oliver looked up at you, his eyes never leaving your face as you sank down onto him.

“Oh Ollie!”

“Feel so good darlin’-fuck-ugh.”

You ground yourself against Oliver's dick before beginning to bounce up and down. Oliver helped you out, his hands gripping your body as he guided your movements. You placed your hands on his knees giving you more leverage. Oliver glanced back at the mirror, his eyes following your movements through the reflection. The sight of you bouncing yourself on his dick was almost enough to make him cum again but he decided that this time he wanted to last longer so he opted for turning back to you. One of his hands found their way to your pussy, his finger moving to give your clit some attention. The moan that left your mouth was down right sinful and it made Oliver's chest rise in pride. He was the one making you feel good. Not any of those idiots downstairs. Him.

“Ollie…”

“You close?”

“Yeah baby…please Ollie please.”

He loved seeing you beg for him like this. It made him feel like a fucking king. But seeing you cum made him feel like a God. And he’d much rather be a God than a king. So before you could even process what was happening Oliver had leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple. The movements of his finger on your clit got faster as he sucked your breast and in seconds you were done for. You came with a scream of Oliver's name, your body sagging forwards. Olivers was close too but he needed a little something more to reach his peak. He called out your name causing you to raise your head from his shoulder.

“Yes Ollie?”

“What if I had been a-ugh shit- bad…boy?”

You understood what he was asking for. You moved your hands to wrap around his neck. You gave his throat a squeeze as you learned to whisper in his ear.

“Well then I'd have to punish you.”

Oliver groaned out your name, his hips bucking wildly as he filled you up with his seed. He threw his head back, his eyes looking at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. You leaned into his body, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Did you like your present?”

“I loved it. Thank you darling.”

“Anything for my best boy.”

#smut fanfiction #smut tag #smut #oliver quick #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #saltburn smut #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #saltburn x reader #berry keoghan #berry keoghan smut #oliver quick smut #ollie smut #felix catton #saltburn x you #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction

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misc-obeyme · 9 months

Note

requesting "don't test me" with lucifer (and then she does)

ty i luv u

Hello, anon!

Okay, so the prompt was "Don't tempt me," but I still had him tell MC not to test him, so we got a bit of both lol. Also I know you didn't necessarily indicate an AFAB reader, but that's what I ended up doing. Hopefully that's okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Lucifer with prompt "Don't tempt me."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: cockwarming, penetration (reader receiving)

Once again, Lucifer found himself sitting at his desk doing paperwork late into the night. Everyone else in the house was either asleep or quiet in their rooms. For once, he could focus on the pile of work he still had to get through.

And he did focus, even though you were sitting on his lap with his cock snugly inside you.

Lucifer would never admit it, but he had a tendency to indulge you. When you came into his office earlier that night to sit with him, he didn’t protest. Your presence made him feel content and he enjoyed having you near him. But it was clear rather quickly that you did not intend to simply sit idly while he worked. And when you finally asked, Lucifer gave in after only a little bit of prodding.

That was how he ended up with his lap full of you, his arms on either side of you as he continued to work, your head leaning back on his shoulder. Your hands were on the desk, holding papers still for him as he wrote. He occasionally moved your hands where he needed them.

You had been doing so well, actually managing to stay still while he worked. But he noticed when you began to shift your hips every so often, like you were unable to hold yourself back from seeking some kind of friction. Lucifer didn’t acknowledge your movements, his pen never stopping.

Lucifer couldn’t deny that he enjoyed having you like this. The way your body clenched on his cock, sending little jolts of pleasure through him, made the hours of sitting at his desk a little more bearable. He never indicated this to you, his expression and movements remaining stoic as though he was unbothered by the way you were leaking all over him.

This went on for some time and Lucifer was actually impressed that you were able to cockwarm him for so long, only occasionally moving against him.

He still had quite the pile of work when it became evident that you were struggling with staying still. Your movements became more frequent and more obvious. You even let out a little whine that both concerned him and made his cock twitch.

When this happened, he said, “Be still, MC. As you can see I still have a lot of work to get through.”

“I’ve been still this whole time,” you said. “Can’t you take a break?”

Lucifer wanted to give into you immediately, but the paperwork on his desk taunted him. “No,” he said firmly. “I told you that you would have to wait until I’m finished and I am nowhere near done.”

You turned your head toward him, nuzzling into him and kissing his neck. You took one of your hands off his desk to reach up and run your fingers down his cheek. “Please, Lucifer…”

Lucifer grabbed your hand and put it back on his desk. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. His tone was strict, not flirty, and you sighed against him.

Lucifer managed to get through only a small amount of work before you started up again, shifting on his lap. He attempted to ignore it, not wanting to give in to you.

At this point, though, you had had enough and you very deliberately braced your hands on the desk so you could raise yourself up. Once you reached the tip of his cock, you sat back down in one swift motion. The feeling of finally having some movement inside you made you moan.

Lucifer dropped his pen and grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed to him. “Do not test my patience, MC.”

You still squirmed in his grip. “What about my patience?” you asked, letting just a hint of a whine into your voice. “I’m running out.”

“You should have considered that before you proposed this idea,” Lucifer said.

You groaned, now actively struggling against him. “Can’t you ever give in? Just once?”

Lucifer’s irritation with you peaked and he realized there was no way he would be able to finish his work when you were like this. He secretly blamed himself for giving into you to begin with, but there was no way he would let you think that.

Lucifer lifted you easily as he stood up from his chair, pushing you down over his desk. There was still paperwork beneath you, but he didn’t bother to move it out of the way. In that moment, he no longer cared.

Lucifer leaned over you, pressing close to your ear. “I hope this is what you wanted, MC.”

Lucifer didn’t give you the chance to answer as he stood back up, keeping one hand on your hip.

He put his other hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he began to thrust. He was not gentle, he was far past that, and the sounds of your whimpers only made him go faster.

You squirmed under him, no doubt overwhelmed by how deep he was inside you, hitting hard with every thrust, your body bouncing as he ramped up the pace and intensity. He was lost in your heat, feeling only the sweetness of you around him, his own pleasure building as he moved in you. The sound and scent of your arousal made him a little dizzy.

Your noises became louder as your orgasm approached, your hands gripping the desk, moving the papers that were still beneath you.

You cried out as your climax hit, your cum coating his dick as he clenched your hip hard, the hand on your back pressing down roughly.

And then Lucifer stopped moving.

You stayed sprawled over the desk, your cheek pressed against some stray paper, breathing hard as you slowly came down from your high.

After a moment you looked back over your shoulder. Lucifer frowned at you, his cock still hard inside you.

“Will you be able to sit still now?” he asked.

Lucifer lifted you from his desk, sitting back down in his chair and settling you in his lap the way he had you before. He picked up one of your hands, his fingers gently rubbing against a smudge of ink there before he placed it on top of his papers again.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist and gently kissed your neck.

“I only need you to hold on a little longer,” he said quietly into your ear. “Having you here like this makes it easier for me to get through all of this work. If you can hold me until I’m finished, I will be at your mercy for the rest of the night.”

Lucifer knew what saying this to you would do and he was pleased to feel you shudder slightly. You were likely imagining him carrying you to his room, catering to your every whim, giving into you entirely, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. It wasn’t something he did often. But every once in a while, he let himself be vulnerable with you.

You re-positioned yourself for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. You put your hands on the desk, settling them back on the papers for him. “How can I say no to that?”

Lucifer chuckled, repositioning your hands a little before picking up his pen. “I will endeavor to get through the remainder quickly so I can take care of you properly.”

You settled in, your body still tired and throbbing from the orgasm you had bent over his desk. You took the time to rest as well as you could with his cock still inside you, knowing you would need your energy for later.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #misc 1k event #misc naughty times #misc writes

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difficultdomains · 6 months

Text

affection

summary: after suguru leaves, you notice curses lingering around you. you go to confront him about it, but by meeting him again, you discover that some things seem to remain intact, even when you expect them to have been broken long ago.

c/w: sfw, sorcerer!reader, cultleader!geto, swearing, smoking & cigarettes, lovers to enemies to lovers kind of??, reader was negatively impacted by geto leaving & is lowkey obsessed with him, geto is lowkey obsessed with reader hehe, POV switches, no use of y/n

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: this was a just random thought that refused to leave my brain after i saw this (artwork by the great @521jie on X/Twitter!!). this is the verY first time i’ve ever written a proper fic (in my noTES APP ekkxkd) and posted it soooo (hELP LMAO) see it as an experiment. anyways enjoy - or don’t, your choice.

💿: no devotion - TENDER (A-side) // ache - FKA twigs (B-side)

————————————————————————

An auditory hallucination.

There was no other plausible way to explain this.

When he heard his own name cutting through the pattering hum of the rain, he couldn’t help but choke on the cigarette smoke he’d just inhaled, violent coughs instantly ripping through his lungs.

Lured into turning towards the strangely familiar voice, he expected to be met with nothing but endless rows of trees surrounding his temple.

Auditory and visual? Can‘t be.

It really was you - stalking towards him through the muddy grass, hair glued to your wet cheeks, and wearing a scowl he had never seen on your face before.

His name slipped over your lips again, raw animosity packed tightly into each syllable. It made his heartbeat stutter - but not out of fear. He tried his best to suppress a smile.

”You need to stay the fuck out of my business,” you snarled, almost baring your teeth at him like a wild animal.

You looked disheveled at best, uniform dirty and ripped like you‘d just come from a fight - or a particularly rough mission.

He tilted his head, losing against the lopsided grin that spread across his lips.

You were even more alluring than he remembered.

Your stance, your demeanor, your energy - you were there, right in front of him - but you felt so different.

It must be true then.

Mere months after he had left, the rumours surrounding you caught up to him. You had changed, evolved, fallen heir to that damned position that previously belonged to him.

It had made you impulsive. Reckless even.

There were whispers of binding vows and devilish pacts - your soul exchanged for power. That one he could only ever scoff at.

Ridiculous.

Your soul was already spoken for, traded on a mellow spring evening many years ago, the same day he had lost his own.

Through the nagging ache in his stomach he had tried to convince himself that you were someone who wouldn’t venture out and look for trouble - just because you could.

At least that’s who you used to be.

So the very moment he sent out that first curse, tasked solely with keeping a watchful eye over you while you complete your missions, he was aware that you would absolutely hate this - if you ever found out.

And now it seemed like you had.

”You came all this way just to tell me that?“

He took another drag of his burned-out cigarette, feigning nonchalance to conceal his shaky hands. Fucking adrenaline.

”This could’ve been a text, darling.“

Withstanding the look of your frozen-over eyes was easy. But he did wonder if the ice around your irises was unbreakable.

You scoffed at him. What a bastard.

Three years.

For three whole years, you had seen remnants of his face in every person you passed on the street. Found traces of his energy in every grotesque curse you exorcised.

The slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the limitless patience in his eyes - you were cursed with never forgetting them. There was hardly a day where your subconscious hadn‘t forced you to face him, awake or asleep.

And now there he was - flashing you that same old stupid smile. Your lungs constricted with every breath.

His hair was longer than the last time you’d seen him, his features sharper, more refined. You clenched your cold fingers into fists, physically denying yourself the primal urge to just reach out and touch.

He must have been woven out of pure magnetism, his mere presence was enough to pull you towards him. It was impossible to blame anyone for mistaking him for some celestial being and finding themself trapped in his orbit.

You had been his first victim, after all.

However, he had made his choice.

And you had made yours.

A definite, irreversible reminder, stomping out any links that existed between you two.

Or at least it should have.

The driving anger that had brought you here in the first place crept its way back into your guts, pushing away any residual fondness and making you cross your arms and lift your chin. You were not going to humor his remark with a response.

“Why?“ A demand, not a question.

“Why do you send them after me?“

No combination of words could answer this without revealing to you what was locked away deep in his chest.

He chuckled quietly, seemingly unbothered, but his restless hands gave him away, driving cracks into his carefully crafted facade. They disappeared into his pockets, only to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

“For old times‘ sake?“

He extended his arm, just enough so you could reach the top of the pack but not the fingers that held it at the bottom.

You glared at him with knitted eyebrows when a bright orange something, carefully stuffed between the remaining cigarettes, caught your attention.

When you realized what you were looking at, your eyes widened, instantly shooting back up to his face.

His grin had turned sheepish. Caught.

”Your lighter. Is it-„

”Yes.“

Slender fingers quickly pulled the lighter out, throwing it to you effortlessly.

You managed to catch it, flipping it around in your palm a couple of times. It was cheap, worn out from extensive use, and painfully ordinary.

Scribbled on the back, however, was an almost faded, uneven black heart. Done with an equally cheap permanent marker and by no one other than yourself.

You had given it to him a lifetime ago, shortly after the two of you had acquired your first shared pack. You had felt so awfully grown up back then.

”I can’t believe that thing still works,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

His eyes darted away from you as if you had turned into the blinding sun herself.

”I take care of it, you know.“

Did you just walk into a trap?

You took in a sharp breath, the implication that came with the tiny mundane object in your hand was more than you could handle.

Your vision blurred for a fraction of a second, you tried to blink it away - but all you could see in front of you was him. Not the cult leader, the murderer, the curse user. Just him.

He’d expected many things to happen between the two of you, but not this kind of silence. Curiosity overwhelmed him, forcing his gaze back onto your face.

What he found there was a kaleidoscope of emotions, rapidly flickering across your features. Like hinges on a rusty old gate, they broke, tearing down what you had so rigorously molded around yourself.

The window he was peering through was small - and he could feel that he had absolutely no time to lose.

So he gave in, cutting across the two wooden steps leading down from the veranda, cigarettes long forgotten and dropped. Cold, merciless little daggers of rain immediately punctured his skin, but when his hands found your skin, it was so velvety, so warm under his touch.

You flinched at the familiar contact and closed your eyes. The soft pads of his fingers on your cheeks were a siren’s song, engulfing you, tugging you further and further into depths that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to emerge from.

He didn‘t move his hands away.

You didn’t want him to.

His fingers brushed across your right cheekbone until they found their way through the tangles of your hair and to the back of your neck. He gently pulled you towards him, until your foreheads met and the air you breathed became the same.

”I‘ve been expecting you. Every day.“

Eternity passed.

You opened your eyes.

Maybe it was just the reflection of his own eyes in your blown-out pupils.

But there it was again.

Affection.

————————————————————————

I’m kinda playing with the idea of writing a what happens after to this, but who knows…

#noon.writes #geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto angst #geto headcanons #geto imagines #reader insert

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belovedyandere · 1 year

Note

pls you have to understand goth male reader and yandere jock pls pls

cw. established relationship, dubcon, manipulation, sexual themes, stalking, yandere themes

“Black does look good on you, but I think you sitting n’ crying on my cock suits you better.” The raging testosterone jock whispered behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Lips to your cheek, exaggerating a long lick from your jaw to the bottom of your eye.

“Fuck off. What did I say about you coming onto me in public.” Pulling yourself from him, with great struggle, you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows in annoyance. “I’ve told you so many fucking times that I don’t want anyone knowing that we’re together. But you, and your horned up brain,” tapping your index finger to the jock’s temple, “never listen.” Sighing with frustration you rubbed your own temple to ease the oncoming headache.

“But we aren’t in public, in fact, it’s the start of a new period and as you can see, ain’t anyone around here.” Looking to where his head directed, he was right. The back of the school was vacant from onlookers. “And don’t act all high n’ mighty in front of me. I can see my favourite little guy down there excited to see me.” Pushing your back against the wall, his knee came in between your thighs and began to rub against you. “I’d like you to be more honest with me, just like how honest my dick is, wanting to be in your hole and filling it up.” You were left rendered speechless. By his words? His knee? The way he towered over you, with his hands resting onto your waist before coming up to meet where your nipples were? You didn’t know but out of instinct to ground yourself, your arms came to wrap around his neck. Not aware of the immense satisfaction the jock was feeling.

You couldn’t blame him if you knew. The way he followed you around like a hungry dog at school when he was the new student. You felt so out of reach yet you were right beside him in science. Weekends weren’t short enough to see you again, so he was glad to have found your hang out spot. Coincidentally bumping into you, though at first you weren’t all too please. Already having an assumption on his character based on who he had hung out with. But he was determined to wear you down, to see you wag your tail when you saw him. Though he wasn’t sure if his patience was strong enough to compete with your stubbornness. He tried everything. Greeting you nicely, wearing bits of black, listening to the bands you liked. Everything. So it surprised him when seeing you witness his disappointment when he lost a game. His head hung low with huge sighs. He didn’t notice you there until you sat beside him, giving him awkward encouraging words. And that’s where he found the perfect bait. He chuckled at your kind words, before frowning at himself. Saying that his dad was there, and he embarrassed him. All lies of course, but you certainly hadn’t known that. You were quick to comfort him, and from there a budding friendship came. But jock wasn’t happy with this friendship, yet it was what he could tolerate for now.

And as time passed, you two came to find that you shared familiar experiences, that’s what you were led to believe at least. It pulled you in, to feel understood and to be looked upon with no judgement. Your heart pulled to him, and his to you. It was obvious the feelings you both shared. Though you hesitated. You were one who appreciated things to be done and said in private. Especially relationships. And here you two were, grinding against each other behind the school, your pants somehow already onto the floor and turned to face the wall. “W-wait not here, someone’s gonna come.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” The palm of his hand coming to close your mouth, the other stretching your hole, fortunately the night before had loosened you enough for him to enter easily. But that didn’t stop you from moaning, your knees halfway already buckling from the rough movements. You weren’t surprised he preferred it rough and animalistic. He pushed you further against the wall, in hopes you wouldn’t fall, but with his quick movements and the way your hole tightened his throbbing cock, you both were quick to climax. One thing the jock knew you couldn’t deny was the sexual chemistry, you were meant for him.

#yandere jock #jock smut #belovedyandere oc #yandere #yandere smut #male reader

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danzaloreley · 1 year

Text

Indée Fixe

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x harpy!Reader

Summary: A moment to shut down Xavier’s ass. And a moment to calm down Wednesday.

Jealousy is not a word for Wednesday or Y/N. There was an undeniable trust between them that others were a bit envious of. No matter how many flirted neither would bother with said person. Many found it unfair that the goth could so easily reach out and caress the feathers that shone with the ray of sunlight. As if they ever had a right to.

Wednesday subconsciously traced the inside of the wing while they read on one of the benches of the quad. Her back as always straight maintaining her posture as the harpy was fully facing her. Head on the dark girl’s shoulder as a soft rumble of different chitters and purrs emanated from her chest. The hand stopped suddenly and she held it forward with a black feather between her fingers.

“It was already loose, don’t worry.” the harpy said as she saw Wednesday inspecting. A smile growing as she saw the girl hold it to her lips.

“Would you mind if I turned it into my quill, cara mia?”

“Not at all.”

Their quiet time interrupted by one tall boy, Thorpe. He stood infront of them and cleared his throat. “We gotta work on the project.”

Both sent a sneer his way, Wednesday and him had been paired for an assignment it was true. That didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying for them. Xavier had been grinding on Y/N’s gears, finding a way to always show up and interrupt time with her girlfriend.

While spending time with him wasn’t what the girl wanted she was always responsible to make sure to finish her work. They had gone to do their work, but not before you made a display of kissing her full lips. Just to rub it in, it was always fun.

“You definitely spend a lot of time with Y/N.” Wednesday had suffered through the ours of their assignment did he really need to keep conversation after. “It should be expected. Even before she became my lover we spent quite some time together.”

“Didn’t think you would be a sappy kind of person when dating.” His voice had a bit annoyance dripping off. “Not a subject I have to discuss. What I do or don’t is none of anyone’s concern.” Her jaw tightened, he had been throwing little comments here and there since the Rave’N.

“Just saying. You don’t seem to have time for your friends.” he pressed. “On the contrary, my schedule has not been derailed. I still have time to be dragged to Enid’s persistent outings, as well as meetings with Eugene.”

“Even then Y/N joins a lot on those. What—”Wednesday turned with a glare, patience running very low. “She has joined from the moment we met. If you’re trying to say something just get on with it as I am tired of you’re incessant whining.”

“You met her some months ago and for whatever reason you became obsessed with her. You had no time to hang out or even talk. I mean shit even when we went together to the dance you paid attention to her. And then suddenly you’re dating, you trusted her so quick, did you learn nothing from getting with Tyler.”

There was a moment of silence as the raven haired girl contemplated many violent scenarios in her mind. Her gaze fierce as she stepped forward. “From the very beginning I had been quite clear that going to the dance was repayment for last year nothing more. I have plenty of time for my friends, just not to coddle your feelings. Perhaps if you weren’t blinded by your unwarranted jealousy and skewed idea of how I should be you’d actually be more bearable to be near by. She has never demanded my attetion, I’ve given it freely.”

The only thing I will give you is that you are right, in that the boys who pursued me last year were quite a disappointment.”

The loud knock that reverberated on your door scared the hell out of you. Concentrated on meticulously expanding the wing of the ulysses butterfly accidentally tearing from it’s thorax. “Shit.”

Opening the door in came a furious Wednesday Addams. She walked right in without saying a word and just stood there fuming. Closing the door you stayed there. Neither of you moved or said anything. It was best not to push her when she was like this, letting her process her anger.

“Xavier seems to have issues with our relationship.” If you rolled your eyes any harder you might see your own damn brain. “Of course he does. Me telling him to have some dignity didn’t work. Probably cause there’s none left.”

You could tell she wanted to go and wreak havoc. The petty arguments were getting old and fast. Walking towards her you offered your hand out and she took it gently, even if she was feeling far from gentle. You guided her hand to your lips kissing each knuckle and her fingetips. She got closer to you, her body flush to yours. It wasn’t a hug, she didn’t want to feel caged but still wanted to be pressed up against you.

“I have some bugs that I was working on. Do you want to pin or tear the ones that are disposable?” She definitely felt like poking holes in something and she curtly nodded against you.

You sat down on the chair in your work station and guided her to your lap. She immediately started pinning the butterfly through the thorax, pin after pin riddling it. Her shoulders slowly becoming less tense as she abused the poor carcass and your soft lips hovered over her neck and thumbs rubbed small circles on her waist.

“Set a boundary, mi vida. If Xavier pestering you drives you to anger every time, it’s better to not interact with him for a while. Tell him that if he can’t behave maturely that you’ll cut him off. Like a tumor, a benign one people can live with. But if it becomes malignant then it’s time to go.”

Wednesday kept on putting pin after pin while she thought over your words. A reasonable ending to the conflict, sure. Not what she had in mind, she did not feel like being reasonable. “I was thinking of burning his shed. With him in it.”

You laughed and squeezed her. “Yeah, that is gonna put you behind bars. I prefer you here.”

The dark haired girl’s lips quirked. She definitely preferred to be here with you. But she was certain together you could remove any trace of evidence.

She’ll hold off only to try your idea first.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #wednesday series #wednesday adams #wednesday fanfic #wednesday (2022)#wednesday addams #wednesday fic #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #xavier thorpe x wednesday addams #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe

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themissinghand · 7 months

Note

Hello beautiful I hope you’re doing well! If your requests for dr.stone are still on hold then please ignore this message!

if not then can I request the five wise commanders with a s/o who tries to impress them by learning the stuff they are interested in. (Examples can be like Ryusui’s s/o tried to learn about boats or Chrome’s s/o tries to learn about rocks and tells them the stuff they learned.) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a good one!😁

Dr. Stone: Painting with Two Hands

Summary: In which the Five Wise Commanders get blown away by your knowledge in their passion.

Or you want to show them that you are someone they can rely on too.

Pairing: Five Wise Commanders (Senku, Chrome, Gen, Ryusui, and Ukyo) x GN! Reader!

Note: Thanks for the request and your patience! This turned out super fluffy and I love it! Each scenario takes place in a different time/place.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

The Art of Science

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“A lab coat.” Senku looked at you incredulously, with one brow raised and his other hand shaking a glass beaker.

“Okay, how the heck did you even get that-“

“Yuzuriha.” Right.

“And why are you wearing it exactly?”

“Because I look good in it and…”

"I've been studying chemistry," You declared, revealing a notebook filled with meticulously recorded observations.

When you hand him the said notebook, you watch his skepticism turn into fascination.

“Kukuku, I’m impressed, it’s right. You wrote down the formulas for everything. Where and when did you get this?”

“See, I actually listened to all of your scientific rants. I thought they were interesting and super helpful, so I wanted to learn.”

Senku blinked, slightly surprised that you had put in the effort to take notes, listen and learn.

“I thought that we could experiment together."

For a moment, he was silent, but then his lips quirk up into a smirk, and he flicked your forehead.

“Alright, what are you waiting for? Come help me then. Show me what you learned.”

“Wait.” Senku was twirled around and handed a lab coat too.

“I got one for you too.” Dumbfounded, Senku didn’t move until you sighed and helped him put it on. Before you went to fix his collar, he came to his senses.

“I can do it myself.” He quickly turned away from you and put it on properly.

"You look good short king."

You had a smug expression on your face.

"Shut up."

You swear he has a little tint of pink on his cheeks, but you decided to not mention it.

“Come on, we got a lot of work to do.” He extended a hand, and you accepted it as if it was the norm.

“I know Einstein.”

The Art of Exploration

“Chrome! Look at what I found!”

“Be careful (Y/N)! Don’t fall down!”

Chrome ran after you as you skipped ahead and jumped into a flowing river.

“(Y/N)!” Chrome was always worried about your safety and well-being, despite the many times where you proved where you were just as strong as him.

“Don’t worry Chrome, it’s not like it’s my first time out with you! Besides, look, I found this cool-looking thing in the water!”

In your hands was an oddly shaped rock, and while the two of you inspected it, neither of you knew what it was. Until you cleaned it a bit more in the river.

A golden exterior shone through its surface.

Almost immediately, you screamed out in excitement.

“Gold! It’s the thing that Senku was looking for right?” Even Chrome was shocked at your luck, before hugging you from behind.

Even though you both were slightly dirty from running away and exploring all day, neither of you minded.

“It’s gold! Amazing! How did you find that so easily?” Chrome was genuinely curious. After all, from his perspective, he simply saw you jump into a river, bend down, and pick up a random rock.

“Um…it’s kind of embarrassing but…” Chrome cocked a head at your hesitation before you blurted out.

“I’VE BEEN LEARNING ABOUT ROCKS!” It was so loud that the world shook around you both.

"because...I want to go with you more when you explore..." Your voice became quieter and quieter, while you fidgetted with your hand.

Chrome watched your face lit up, before you quickly turn around and make a run for it.

“Wait (Y/N)! That’s so cool! Come back!”

Chrome chased you with a giant grin on his face.

He can’t wait to see what you learned, and how, when the two of you go back to his workshop.

Chrome also can’t wait to brag to everyone (especially Senku) how great you are.

The Art of Communication

“Raise.”

“I’ll play with you Genie, call.” The click of chips being pushed to the center. Gen(ie) winked at you.

Genie was nickname for your little boyfriend, why? Well, man can read minds (probably).

The cards are slowly being flipped over as spectators make their own guesses.

“All-in!” Gen pushed up his sunglasses dramatically (as if he was in an anime) and smirked as he turned to you.

“Sorry dear (Y/N), this is my game.”

You stayed silent for a moment, observing Gen from head to toe.

But Gen of course, remains calm, and confident in his hand.

“All-in.”

Gen raises his sunglasses in slight surprise at your bet.

“Dear (Y/N), are you sure?” Gen was slightly worried, after all, you tend to be more on the conservative side when it comes to gambling. He slides his hand over to you, and you put yours on top of his.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” You returned his look with a forced smile. Gen whistled, surprised at your sudden bold action.

“Okay, I’m going to flip the last card.” Kohaku flips and the room goes silent.

Then he saw a smirk rose to your lips, and felt your hand intertwin with his.

“You owe me babe.” You hold up his hand while his jaw dropped to the ground.

This was the first you had ever won against him in gambling.

“Finally someone gave Gen a taste of his own medicine.” Ukyo rolled his eyes before snickering.

“Wha-how did you-”

"I thought I'd learn from the best.” You winked and stole his sunglasses, making your beloved stutter even more.

“After all, the mind is the most fascinating puzzle, and yours is the most intriguing of them all." You put on his sunglasses with a smug smirk.

“Damn, that was cringe.” Senku commented, which received a nudge from Yuzuriha.

Gen eventually recovered and chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Oh dear (Y/N), are you playing mind tricks with me now?”

“Of course not dear~ I still have much to learn~”

(Senku of course, fake gagged behind the scenes, but that never stopped you and Gen from doing anything, has it?)

The Art of Navigation

Under the starlit sky, both you and Ryusui stood on the deck of the Perseus, his eyes scanning the horizon.

It was at times like these where your boyfriend was finally quiet, appreciating the tranquility, and the ambience as you two were on a date. Delicious food and wine made by Francois, while listening to the waves rock against the ship, and the laughter from others inside.

Of course, Ryusui is the one to break that silence when he notices the seas changing.

“My love, a storm is coming.” He suddenly stands up, “Francois, follow me after you clean up.”

“Yes sir.” Francois, elegant and efficient as always, quickly retreated with the food.

“Ay ay Captain.” Your little salute made his loosen up just a little, before he held your hand, and pulled you inside as if he was guiding you in a waltz.

Ambitious, confident, and charismatic, that was your love, Ryusui.

As expected, he took the helm immediately, and an excited grin rose to his face as he looked far into the distance with thunderous clouds.

“Love, can you tell them all to get ready!? We need all hands on deck!”

“On it captain!”

With a laugh, you began warning everyone through the speakers, and chaos followed as everyone scrambled to get on desk.

Surprisingly, Ryusui watched you give commands almost effortlessly and matching his pace.

“Furl the sails!”

“We’re going to change courses!”

“Make sure to hold to the ship!”

“Love, you’re perfect.” Ryusui thanks you while he spins the wheel.

“Drop the anchors!”

Then you turn around and slide beside him.

“Love, let me help you - it’s that way - where we have to go right?”

“A little bit more to the left, but love, I see you’ve been learnING-” The ship’s center of gravity suddenly shifts, causing you to lean on Ryusui as you grab onto the wheel for your deer life.

“I love it! The desire to learn is always so endearing!”

“Oh stop it~ All I did was read some maps and books!”

“Hey Captain! Can you stop flirting and steer the ship properly!?” The others yelled while panicking on deck, and with a laugh, both of you steered the ship to safety.

"One more time?" He proposed, and you agreed, much to the displeasure of your crewmates.

The Art of Archery

Sometimes, the kids are loud.

As such, Ukyo and his companion often found solace in the tranquility of the forest. Sometimes they would take long walks, talk about various topics they would not share in front of children, and enjoy the silence once in a while away from the chaos of someone known as Senku.

But one day, you asked Ukyo to learn archery.

Naturally, Ukyo was elated to teach you, after all, it was a way for you to protect yourself.

It began with Ukyo making a bow for you, then arm guard, and even received gloves from Yuzuriha. He wanted to make sure you had the best of equipment he could get, and that you were safe at all times.

The first few training sessions began with Ukyo standing behind you, guiding you with a calm, mellow voice, and helping you with aim.

But soon, you both practiced archery side by side, the twang of bowstrings harmonizing with the rustling leaves.

"Your aim is getting better," Ukyo praised, a smile gracing his lips as he applauded you.

“Thanks, it all because of your help Ukyo.” You gave him a little hug which he returned.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Can I come and hunt with you now?” For a moment he hesitated, but after seeing your adorable puppy eyes, he caved in within a heartbeat.

“Okay, but safety first ok?”

“Mhmm. I know.”

You gave him a peck on the cheek, before he returned one too.

LIttle did you know, not only were your arrows hitting the bulls-eye, they went through Ukyo’s heart too.

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greenboyfriend · 4 months

Text

choose something cold... (tarot card reading)

"what do you need to know?"

image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul? image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it. image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design? image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself. however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect. opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands. finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.

(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)

2.・。.・゜✭

you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times. the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better. the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups. the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.” i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.

(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭

so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm. this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same. the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying. in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome. the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are! finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.

(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #pac #spirituality #spiritual #witchblr

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year

Note

20. Okay so this is totally for myself. But I’ve found out that it is so so so hard for me to cum from guys like I’ve never cum with guys. Anyways because of this reader doesn’t want to have sex with Steve because we all know he has experience and she feels embarrassed. So each time it gets close she just jumps away and makes a random excuse. One day he sits her down to talk about and she’s like well it just takes me a lot to cum and I don’t mind helping you but I prob won’t get off and didn’t want to disappoint you and our Stevie boi is like fuck yeah challenge accepted. And idk what to do from there because this is my situation and I just need a Stevie to have patience with me and help me 🥺

I love you so much

Alright, kitten. I changed around a few things but I hope you like it.

Come Together | Steve Harrington

TW: Fem Reader, Soft boyfriend Steve, Smut, creampie

"Tell me, sweetheart. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Whatever it is, we can figure it out," Steve says, lightly brushing his fingers along your heated cheek.

Tightening your arms around your knees, you rub your feet nervously over the quilted bedspread that covers your bed. Steve asked you out a month ago, and you've been seeing each other ever since. And God, you really liked him. Ever the gentleman, he hasn't tried to pressure you into anything physical. Everything that has happened between you has been something you wanted.

The problem is you. You can't cum, not by your hand and certainly not by anyone else's. The only time you've ever had an orgasm is with your vibrator, which is hidden in a little bag in your nightstand drawer. Friends have told you it's not a big deal, lots of women need a little extra stimulation to finish, but for you, it was the kiss of death in your previous relationships. Guys took it like some kind of challenge, and things between you fizzle out when it doesn't happen. So whenever things turn hot and heavy with Steve, you distract him with a blowjob and end the night.

But that doesn't seem to be cutting it anymore. He wants to touch you, to fuck you, and you know if you let him, it will be the beginning of the end. He's felt how you tense up when his fingers trace over your panties. He's also felt the wetness. He knows you want him, and he doesn't understand. If you don't come clean, you might lose him anyway.

He's leaning on his elbow stretched out across your bed, shirtless, the button of jeans already opened, a lock of hair falling over his forehead, and his hazel eyes studying your face. Grabbing one of your pillows, you hold it against your face as you admit your problem.

"I can't hear you with a pillow over your face," he chuckles, pulling it out of your hands.

"I don't have orgasms," you end up almost shouting, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face. His eyes widen, but he lets you tell him the entire sordid tale without interrupting.

"So, I can go down on you or whatever you'd like, but you don't have to try to...reciprocate," you finish. In your experience, this is where he takes the blowjob and doesn't call. There's an ache in your chest at the thought of losing Steve. It hasn't been that long, but there is something between you, like a flower that hasn't yet bloomed, delicate, and growing towards the sun.

He blows out a breath and rubs his hand through his hair, "I really like you," he says, taking your hand, "Like really like you, but I don't want to just get off and leave. I want whatever we do to be something we can share together. I'm not gonna be some kind of jackass and act like I know your body better than you do. But maybe there is another way to approach this? Is this something we can talk about?"

"Yeah, okay," your voice comes out small and shaky.

He presses a kiss to your knuckles before he continues, "Does it feel good when I touch you?"

Letting out a breath you didn't know you had been holding, you nod your head and lick your lips, "It feels really good."

One side of his mouth raises in a soft smile, "You make me feel good too," he leans forward, brushing his lips softly over yours, "I might not be able to make you cum, but I want to touch you and make you feel good, will you let me?" His smoldering eyes hold yours with such intensity you can't imagine ever denying him.

"Please," you sigh, your mouth already drifting towards him.

He closes the gap between you, his plush lips covering yours in absolutely no rush, tasting you, letting his tongue tangle with yours, stealing your breath and filling you up with his. He kisses you until your sighs have turned to moans, and your hands wander up and down his chest.

"You are so beautiful," he tells you, with a dreamy look on his face as he brushes your mouth with his thumb, "Can I see more of you?" his hand moves to the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping underneath rubbing the soft skin of your stomach.

"Yes," a warmth floods your core, "Can…can I see you too?"

He nods, returning his mouth to yours. Clothes come off between kisses, scattered and forgotten on the floor. His hands glide over your skin, leaving tingling trails behind while his warm chest presses you into the mattress, the bristly hair rubbing against your hard nipples.

"Tell me what feels good, okay? I want to hear it," he says, kissing his way down the column of your neck, pausing every so often to suck and lick the sensitive skin.

"That feels good," you moan and feel his cock jump against your thigh. He's enjoying you without expectations, and knowing that adds a layer of trust you hadn't felt before.

When he cups your breast, and his mouth closes over your nipple, you pant and arch into him. Little electric jolts under your skin send shivers through your body as he sucks your nipple into a hard peak. "Steve…" you gasp, unable to finish your sentence.

"Does my girl like having her tits sucked?" he asks while his hands knead your breasts.

"Yes," your hands run through his hair, holding him to you as his lips work your other breast. The things he's saying and the soft groans at your responses are turning you on just as much as the attention he's giving your body. Wetness coats your thighs as you rub them together, trying to find some relief for your aching core.

"Where else do you want my mouth?" He works his way down your chest and kisses the ridge of your hip, "tell me, sweetheart," he slides his hand up and down your thigh moving closer to your center with each pass.

"My pussy…I want your mouth on my pussy," you move up to your elbows, the look on his face, his blown-out eyes, has you throbbing. Your words are getting bolder, and your confidence grows as you watch him grinding his hips into the mattress.

His hands move to the inside of your thighs, spreading you open, "You're so wet. Is this for me?" he asks, kissing your puffy folds before his tongue darts out to kitten-lick your clit.

"It's for you, Steve. It feels so good," the wanton noises you make spur him on. He adds more pressure and takes longer licks teasing your pulsing entrance before reaching your swollen bundle of nerves, your hips shoot off the bed when his lips suction around it. He holds you in place as he relentlessly sucks your clit, something you can't remember anyone doing in the past. Your head is dizzy and fogged with pleasure when he releases you and moves back up your body.

"I want you to show me," he slides his tongue into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his lips. "Show me what you do when you're alone. Where's your vibrator?" he asks before going back to kissing you.

His request has you tensing up, but he kisses you through it, running his hands softly over your pussy and up your stomach to your breasts. He asks you again once you've relaxed, and you direct him to your nightstand.

"I want to make you feel good now," you protest slightly as your small bullet slips out of the bag into the palm of his big hand.

"Trust me," he says, passing you the toy, "seeing you like this is making me feel good. I want to watch you, baby," he leans on his side and spits in his hand before stroking himself. His saliva mixes with the cum leaking from the red tip of his cock, making his slow motions smooth as he waits for you to join him.

More slick drips from your entrance, and pleasure spreads throughout your body when you press the vibrating toy to your clit.

"This feels so good," he says, dipping his head to kiss you, his movements speeding up, "You've got me so hard and needy for you," he groans when you start rocking your hips, "Tell me how it feels."

"So good," you mewl, sloppily returning his kiss.

"Can I finger you?" his hand moves from his cock to your thigh.

"Mmmm, yeah," you sigh, pressing the toy down harder.

His finger swirls around your entrance, coating him in slick before he slowly pushes into you, "You're so tight," a pleased hum follows his words as he moves in and out of you.

The slight stretch, the added sensation, has you aching, you want more from him, you want him to fill you, "Steve, I want you inside me."

His motions falter, but he quickly recovers, "I am inside you," he knows what you want, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Please. Will you fuck me?" you desperately plead.

"Goddamm," he groans, kissing you frantically, "I want to so much. Are you sure?"

"Yes. I need you," you confess.

He's up in a flash, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull you to the edge of the bed. His eagerness makes you smile, but the want in his eyes quickly increases your need for him.

He glides himself through your folds, gathering your wetness, "I want you to keep touching yourself. I'm going to go nice and slow. Let me know what you need. Even if you want me to stop, okay?"

"Okay," you nod, his tenderness adding an ache to your heart that matches the one in your core.

He hisses as he pushes inside you. The intense stretch has you throwing your head back, a slight sting mixing with your pleasure. He's bigger than anyone you've been with, and he makes room inside you that hadn't existed before. A cry leaves your lips when he hits a spot you didn't know was there.

"Did that hurt? Are you okay?" his voice is full of concern as he rubs the outside of your thigh.

"No. It felt good. Really good. I didn't…no one has ever..," you trail off and grip his wrist with your free hand, hoping he understands.

"You feel so good. You're so tight wrapped around me, and that buzz feels good, too," he keeps still inside you, giving you time to adjust.

"You like it? You're not just doing it for me?" the question has been on your mind since you started. A slight pang of guilt has been echoing through your thoughts.

"Are you kidding? It feels really good. This is so hot. It's for both of us," he begins to gently stroke into you," You're so sexy right now. I'm thinking about basketball, so I don't cum."

His admission pushes away any last doubts, you turn up the speed on the vibrator and start rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it, baby. Take what you want," he's watching himself disappear inside you, breathing raggedly, muscles straining with the effort to keep a gentle, steady pace. His cock slowly drags back and forth against your walls, hitting that spot every time, but it's not enough-you want more.

"Harder. Don't hold back. I want all of you," you pant, reaching for him. He leans forward, capturing your mouth as he drives his hips into you. Passionate noises fill the room as you get lost in the pleasure you share.

"Is this okay? It's not too much?" he asks softly in your ear.

"It's more than okay. Nothing has ever felt this good," you whisper back, kissing along his temple.

"Fuck, you don't know what you're doing to me. I'm not going to last much longer. Can I cum inside you?" his hips piston, rubbing that place inside you faster, harder. He wants to fill you, claim you.

An exquisite feeling builds in your tummy, and you feel yourself tightening around him," Steve," you moan, bucking your hips erratically, "cum inside me. Oh, fuck," the curse flies past your lips as you realize you're hurtling towards climax.

"Yeah, baby, I'm gonna..holy shit, you're getting so tight. You're squeezing me…are you gonna cum?" his strokes are getting sloppily. He's staying inside you longer between thrusts, driving in deeper.

"Don't stop," is all you manage to say. It's all you're able to think as you climb higher.

"Let go. I won't stop. We're going to cum together," his gentle words push you over the edge. Ecstasy washes over you as you cum harder than you ever have alone. He groans loudly as your inner muscles milk him, triggering his release. He fills you up with his warmth as your body trembles uncontrollably around him. His movements slow, but he doesn't stop thrusting until he softens inside you, coaxing out every last wave of your orgasm.

"You're incredible," he pants, resting his forehead against yours, reveling in his bliss.

With closed eyes, you press kisses to any bit of skin you can reach as you float down, enjoying the little shocks still going off inside.

"Are you still with me?" he asks, brushing the damp hair back from your face. His expression is full of adoration as you open your eyes and smile at him.

"When can we do that again?"

♡♡♡

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #boyfriend steve #Jelly's requests

1K notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 6 months

Text

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?”

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.”

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?”

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?”

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.”

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid.

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.”

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes.

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?”

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.”

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello.

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard.

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year.

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own.

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside.

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’

‘Give me five minutes.’

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs.

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting.

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed.

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it.

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively. “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.”

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?”

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.”

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?”

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.”

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries.

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.”

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.”

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.”

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.”

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.”

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.”

“So this was all for nothing?”

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.”

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.”

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs.

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture.

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie.

“Then introduce yourself.”

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent.

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out.

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this.

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.”

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out.

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears.

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text.

‘friend?’

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions.

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash.

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time.

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left.

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders.

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?”

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ.

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing.

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-”

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.”

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?”

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.”

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.”

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring.

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend.

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious.

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy.

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.”

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?”

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.”

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?”

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.”

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.”

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.”

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.”

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed.

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.”

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours.

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too.

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?”

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.”

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged.

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.”

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.”

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition.

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny.

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch.

“She’s difficult and entitled.”

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul.

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained.

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?”

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back.

“It’s so soft.”

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?”

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious.

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting.

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight.

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion.

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him.

“Peter, hi!”

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.”

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?”

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.”

“I know how to hug.”

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.”

“No.”

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too.

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.”

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear.

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.”

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin.

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.”

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink.

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.”

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second.

“Which album?”

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?”

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?”

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.”

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked.

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back.

“Who’s that?”

You point at yourself, “me.”

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch.

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown.

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.”

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone.

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.”

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away.

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time.

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?”

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand.

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.”

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other.

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for.

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.”

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.”

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.”

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up.

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body.

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.”

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL.

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning.

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.”

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs.

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section.

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-”

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care.

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.”

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach.

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his.

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though.

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?”

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.”

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself.

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!”

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit.

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move.

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.”

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?”

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!”

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.”

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.”

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.”

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.”

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second.

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.”

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.”

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.”

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter.

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.”

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch.

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity.

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work.

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger.

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.”

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now.

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.”

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.”

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.”

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?”

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them.

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?”

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy.

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.”

“You act like one.”

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’ You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug.

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.”

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him.

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to.

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell.

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish.

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more.

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later.

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky.

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?”

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter.

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in.

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket.

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!”

The good one?

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute.

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.”

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort.

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.”

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad.

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky.

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored.

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.”

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.”

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall.

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him.

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?”

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do.

CATHEDRAL HALL.

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

Prince next, “Sam Mason.”

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?”

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.”

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck.

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you.

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it.

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color.

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space.

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it.

“Right,” one step closer.

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you.

“And then?”

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation.

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself.

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.”

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening.

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-”

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip.

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time.

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him.

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck.

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that?

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading.

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same?

“Parker, you out here?”

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker.

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you.

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.”

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing?

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.”

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened.

Just so you could keep it to yourself.

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream.

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball.

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up.

“Cheers, Parker.”

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor.

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges.

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest.

“I bid Isaac Barns.”

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality.

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again.

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first.

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking.

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself.

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you.

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now.

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch.

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you.

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research.

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter.

‘big brother season.’

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x you #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #uni #my writing

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scp230kinnie · 4 months

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Hi im so glad I found someone still writes for hunter😭Could you do a hunter x goth reader or if you don’t feel like writing that I will take any hunter content literally😭❤️‍🩹

JSJSHSJS YES OKAY IM GONNA DO HEADCANONS JUST CUZ I DONT FEEL LIKE WRITING A LONG THING

Hunter Sylvester x Goth reader Headcanons

No warnings aside from being cringe and not proofread🙏 mostly gn!

⚠️ I AM NOT A GOTH PERSON so please feel free to let me know if I get anything wrong😭

Have fun reading

At first he really doesn’t like goth music 😭

He says it’s not metal enough for him or something

He learns to accept your music taste, knowing he’s not gonna change anything

He does try to get you to expand your music taste a bit

(By giving you metal recommendations)

IMAGINE GOING OUT IN FULL TRAD GOTH WHILE HE DOES CORPSE PAINT AWW

Lowkey he would to do corpse paint on you, and he would maybe be willing to let you do trad goth on him in return

He’s not a fan of the style himself, but he thinks you look absolutely freaking majestic

You always catch him staring at you or watching you do makeup

He shows you off to all his (3) friends for sure

“This is my amazing gf/bf 💪”

He will learn about the subcultures and stuff just for you

On the days you don’t do full read goth and just do like regular eyeliner or something, he’ll be all goofy like “who the fuck is this chick😦”

Shit bro he will buy you whatever clothes and accessories you want (with his dads card duh)

He will also (try to) help you do your hair

He doesn’t have any “goth” clothes, seeing as he’s a metalhead, but same goes for my last set of Hunter hcs, he will give you his hoodies and maybe his band shirts if you wanted

Painting each others nails🫶

He’s not good at it but damn right he’s gonna try

I just KNOW if you painted his nails he’d fuck it up instantly. Like it’ll still be drying and he’ll already smudge it in like 5 minutes

If you dye your hair, (light haired alternative people know😔) he will probably try to help

He has really low patience with it tho

If you have really thick or long hair he will straight up just give up

Idk how many times I’ve said it but he WILL try to learn your favourite songs on guitar

Back at it with the “serenading” thing but it’s just him flexing his skills

When ur not around he will try on your jewelry just to see how it looks

Will steal your rings if they fit him

Same thing with earrings

I’m like 90% sure he canonically has his ears pierced so if you have nice earrings he will take them and wear them with pride

I am not goth, once again. But I am some kind of alternative, and I know that a lot of these people have like spikes that they put on clothes and stuff

So he would definitely want you to do that with some of his stuff

That’s all I can think of for now 😇 keep them coming guys

#headcanons #fluff #scp230kinnie #tumblr #fanfic #hunter sylvester fluff #hunter sylvester headcanons #hunter sylvester #hunter #hunter sylvester x reader #metal lords headcanons #metal lords #metal lords x reader #Hunter Sylvester x goth reader #in my flop era #megamind

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my-castles-crumbling · 6 months

Text

Warmth- Jegulus holiday fluff!

Hi guys! You voted on a holiday present and this is what you chose! It's hogwarts-age jegulus, AU-no Voldemort, background wolfstar holiday fluff! Enjoy!

Regulus always associated the holidays with the cold.

A cold house. A cold bed. The coldness of his family.

And he was so used to the way his family did things.

It started with planning. So much planning. Making sure everything, every minute detail, was perfect. That the menu was impeccable. The decor, superb. The outfits, tailored and luxurious.

Regulus and Sirius were expected to be flawless representations of their House and ‘Superior Bloodline.’ Put-together and polite; seen, not heard.

The pressure was more than intense.

And the actual party?

So many people. So many high standards.

The chit-chat was suffocating, and Regulus always dreaded it.

There was nothing personal about the holidays. No time for family. Only networking. Putting on a show. Making sure their family was constantly on top.

It was cold.

Regulus spent the entire day feeling lonely.

So, when Regulus first agreed to spend the holidays at the Potters’ he wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew, of course, that the Potters were pureblood. Well-off. They probably had fancy parties, too.

“What shall I pack?” he asked his boyfriend one day while they were studying, close to break, realizing his old dress robes might not fit any more. Did the Potters expect him to wear his custom-made twelve-piece robes, or would some of his more comfortable three-piece outfits suffice?

“Pack?” James asked, looking a bit distracted. He was currently trying to figure out what looked like a botched Potions essay, and Regulus knew he would have to take pity on him and help soon. “I mean, it’s a bit cold. Make sure to pack some extra jumpers.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, endeared by the taller boy’s oliviousness. “I meant for the party.”

“Party?” James asked, looking quite shocked. “We’re going to a party?”

Now his patience was wearing a bit thin. “On Christmas, James. Won’t your family have a party?”

James laughed out loud at that. “I mean, it’ll be my mum, dad, Sirius, Remus, and both of us. Is that what you mean?”

Regulus thought about that. “So…no party?”

“No,” James answered, looking a bit concerned. “Is that alright? I know your family-”

“It’s perfect,” Regulus nodded, quickly pulling James’s mess of an essay toward himself. “This is not.”

As soon as the boys arrived in the bright, warm kitchen of the Potter Manor, a woman swept Regulus into a hug so quickly he almost yelped with surprise.

“Regulus. It’s wonderful to meet you,” the woman hugging him said warmly.

“Don’t suffocate him, mum,” James admonished, throwing Regulus a grin as he hugged what could only be his father.

But Regulus, who normally hated being touched, especially by those he didn’t know, found himself melting into the embrace. He realized almost instantly where James got it from- his safe, kind, accepting persona. His warmth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. and Mr. Potter,” Regulus stammered as Euphemia released him. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Effie and Monty,” Monty replied easily. “And how could we not? James talks so much about you, you’re practically family already."

James turned bright red at this, and Regulus smirked a bit. Sirius made a gagging noise from behind them.

“As if you don’t talk just as much about Remus,” Effie chided him, pulling him into a hug as well.

“Mum! I’m supposed to be the favorite!” Sirius pouted, making Effie grin.

“I have no favorites. Though if we’re going by number of times I’ve gotten letters of complaint from Minerva McGonagall, then Regulus is currently the favorite,” Effie retorted, making Regulus turn pink.

Even though both Sirius and James protested more about that, it was clear that all the comments were in good fun. They were laughing. Smiling. Enjoying each other’s company.

He’d never experienced family like this before. It was strange. The warmth.

Regulus quickly figured out that he liked Potter Manor almost as much as he liked Hogwarts.

He, James, Sirius, and Remus (when he arrived a few days later) spent their days flying, lazing around, going into the Muggle town nearby and exploring. He knew that Monty was a Potioneer, but he was thrilled to find that once he tentatively asked the older man about his work, Monty was eager to show him everything he was working on. He even let Regulus help.

He also found a piano, tucked away in a lonely room on the fourth floor, and spent hours at a time just playing, reveling in being able to just be, while James, Sirius, and Remus caused chaos Merlin-knew-where.

He felt safe. Wanted. This, he realized, was how family was supposed to feel.

He’d believed James, of course, when he’d said there wouldn’t be a party. But he was still unsurprised, somehow, when on Christmas morning, he was awoken at dawn by someone shaking him awake. Good thing he packed something presentable.

“Happy Christmas, Reg!” James whispered into his ear.

“Mmmpfh,” Regulus mumbled into his pillow. “Thought you said there wasn’t a party?”

“What? No, I…I have something to show you. Will you come with me?” James asked, looking a bit nervous.

“Alright.”

It was early, and cold. And Regulus was thankful, really, that he’d listened to James and packed multiple jumpers because he pulled two over his head, blearily following the taller boy out of his room.

“Sorry it’s so early. It’s just…I’ve been trying to get you alone for days and I figured if I try before Sirius is awake, I’d have more of a chance,” James grinned a bit sheepishly.

Regulus snorted. Sirius had been quite the nuisance over the past few days. Every time James and Regulus had had two minutes alone, he just appeared. “He’s your best friend, Potter.”

James chuckled, leading Regulus to the front door.

“Outside?” Regulus blanched. He might have two jumpers on, but he wasn’t dressed for the snowstorm currently raging outside.

“Trust me?” James asked, levelling a challenging look at Regulus.

And fuck James Potter, because he knew that the answer to that question was yes.

“Alright,” Regulus murmured, shivering as James rapped his wand sharply on Regulus’s head. A feeling of warmth slowly seeped through Regulus’s very veins, like he’d stepped into a hot shower.

“C’mon,” James said, grabbing his hand and guiding him into the storm.

They walked for a few minutes, hand-in-hand, through the raging snow. Even as the storm persisted, however, Regulus could only feel warmth. No wind, no cold. Just the comfortable heat of James’s spell and their intertwined hands.

It was loud, however. And it was hard to see. “James, where the hell-?” Regulus yelled, feeling a bit nervous.

“Not much farther now! It’s just here!” James called to him, dragging him a few more feet before stopping.

Then, James pulled out his wand again and tapped it on seemingly nothing, before pulling Regulus a few more feet forward.

Regulus was thoroughly confused for a moment, until-

Quiet.

They seemed to be in a bubble. Almost a reverse-snow globe. Their little space on the ground, about ten feet in diameter, was quiet. Warm. Free of snow. But outside, the snow still fell and the wind whipped it around.

It was strangely beautiful. Haunting but safe.

“Just here,” James said softly, guiding him to a blanket on the ground.

Shocked, Regulus lay on the blanket, allowing James to pull him close, as they looked up and watched the snowstorm surrounding them.

“James, this is-”

“We used to do this all the time when I was a kid,” James explained, circling his thumb on Regulus's back soothingly. “On Christmas, especially. If it snowed, my dad would come out and set this up. And we’d just sit out here and watch. Be together.”

Regulus moved a bit closer to James, feeling so incredibly content. “This is what your family does on Christmas?”

He felt James shrug next to him. “It’s nice to just…escape sometimes, you know? And I just wanted to be with you.”

Regulus felt tears prickle his eyes as he took that in. It was somehow precious, to be shown this tradition. To be allowed this window into James’s life. To be included and wanted and loved.

And it was so warm, here.

Here, in the snow. Here, in James’s arms.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing James softly.

And he lost himself in the warmth of the kiss.

Hope you guys liked it! Please leave comments and kudos, I need them more than I need a nap (a lot!)

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sbdskate · 1 year

Text

Laws of Attraction (Part 3) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 2,604

A/N: It’s been a while! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, work/life took over. Thank you everyone who read Parts 1 and 2, and thank you for your patience. I realize there is likely going to be a part 4, and given the ~significant~ break I apologize for the cliff hanger. Friendly reminder that this is still new to me, so I appreciate any and all feedback both positive and constructive. Enjoy!

You were thankful for the two-week break, again hoping the distance would subdue your growing crush. Much to your dismay, you had inceptioned yourself. The seed of physical attraction developed into more despite every attempt to nip it in the bud. To make matters worse, he texted you twice a day every day while you were away: one work related and one miscellaneous – a cute dog he saw cross the street, a yummy meal he had, a song he thought you might like, other general statements of opinion. Eventually the latter turned into plans for the U.S. grand prix. You didn’t quite understand his fascination with the whole cowboy americana aesthetic, perhaps because you grew up in the states so you were disillusioned to it. But it made him happy which you found endearing. He had asked for your input when he was undecided on which boots to get, and excitedly texted you pictures of an American flag bomber jacket and ostentatious belt buckles. You shot him with a few pleasant but short responses, whatever sparks joy or love that journey for you. Two days before press day though, you received a message that made you question your entire career path.

DR: Can I bring a horse to press day? You blinked a few times at your phone.

Y/N: To clarify, you want me to research FiA rules to see if you can bring a horse to the paddock and I will get paid for that time?

DR: Yes [insert horse emoji]

You swore this would be your last celebrity client. You couldn’t believe you went to law school for this.

Y/N: Yes, you can bring a horse. It just needs a badge pass like any other guest which you would need to submit 24 hrs in advance.

DR: What if you don’t know the horse’s name?

Y/N: Press day is in two days and you don’t actually have a horse?

This was by far the strangest client interaction you had ever had. First you were in disbelief from the initial question, and now here you were less than an hour later incredulous that your client didn’t actually have a horse lined up for his arrival to the circuit in forty-eight hours. Oh how the turn tables.

DR: Well I just thought of the idea, so no.

Y/N: It’s a horse, Daniel. I’m pretty sure you can just make up a name, it’s not like it’s going to perjure itself.

So when you got there for press day in your pink suit, prepared for meetings with other teams to discuss reserve seats, it took everything in your power to keep a straight face as Daniel strode in on Horsey McHorseface, with handler and country singer in tow. As a human being with a soul, it was objectively hilarious and you loved that he gave zero fucks, understanding that this very well may be his farewell tour. As his attorney though, you wished he had gone something for a little more subtle. He tipped his cowboy hat and winked as he passed you. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, but your body was on fire. The whole stunt was absurdly corny, it shouldn’t have done anything for you and yet you were undeniably turned on.

You went about your respective days, yours’ filled with back-to-back team meetings. You should have been laser focused, but you struggled to maintain your composure as you fought off visions of Daniel’s mustache adorned face between your legs. You reconnected at the end of the day so the two of you could debrief to discuss your findings. You kept your eyes on your notes in the hopes that avoiding his gaze would keep fantasies of you riding him like a show pony at bay. Flashbacks of the gentle roll of his hips on the horse threatened your demeanor, but you pushed through. Thankful to have made it through the exchange with your dignity mostly intact, you made your way towards the door when you thought the meeting had ended. However, you realized Daniel wasn’t moving.

You waited in the doorway, turning to face him. “Are you coming?”

He paused. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You closed the door again, thinking he had more questions about Red Bull or Mercedes. “You can ask me anything. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “…Do you want to come to the race on Sunday?”

You chuckled, assuming he was simply nervous about the race. “You know I come to all your races, it’s good facetime with the other teams.” You gave him a reassuring smile. Could you sense nerves?

“I know! Which is great. But I meant… as a guest. I thought maybe you could leave the work at home for a day. Consider it a thank you for all your hard work.”

“Oh.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mind went through every worst case scenario, trying to think of an out. You drew a blank.

“Oh what the heck. Twist my arm, I suppose I could swing it.” You did your best to suppress your eagerness, despite feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He grinned, but not before your phone rang. “Ah shoot it’s Joe. I gotta go, but I’ll see you Sunday!”

You passed Lando on your way out who suggestively wriggled his eyebrows at you, seeing both you and Daniel with dumb smiles plastered on your faces. You jokingly flipped him off as you continued your conversation with your boss.

You decided to leave the suits at home since you technically weren’t in client meetings. The Texas heat was oppressive – you wanted to be comfortable but not scandalous. You didn’t think the denim short/cowboy boot combo would be appropriate, and it really wasn’t your thing anyways. Instead you settled on a flowy yellow midi sundress. You stared at your work tote longer than you should have. Rarely did you go anywhere without it, you were paid handsomely in part because you were available 24/7. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed a small crossbody bag instead.

You made your way over to Daniel when you arrived at the paddock. He looked concerned as his eyes traveled over the crowds.

“Everything ok?”

“Oh, I was just looking for my lawyer, not sure if you’ve seen her. She’s about yay-tall, wearing a stuffy suit.”

You wrinkled your nose at his jab at your casual outfit, you lightly shoved him. “Very funny. I know it’s shocking but I do own and wear other clothes when I’m not working.”

“I wasn’t aware you didn’t work,” he jested.

“If we’re being technical about it…I can still get emails on my phone.”

In the midst of a comfortable chuckle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked you to where you would be watching the race. You felt electricity course through you at the soft touch. You debated on whether to remove it, but decided it was an innocent enough gesture.

You both stopped when you got to Lando and his girlfriend. Realizing who you would be enjoying the day with, the optics of all of this began to dawn on you. It was too late to back out now.

“Well, this is where I leave you. You two behave yourselves.”

“No promises!” Luisinha called after the boys. You gave Daniel a small smile and wave as they walked away, your confidence shrinking. Luisinha, a literal model, was even more stunning in person. Internalized insecurities you thought you moved past long ago made themselves comfortable in your mind. You were proud of the person you had grown into, inside and out. You were all about women supporting women and you knew you shouldn’t compare yourself to her, nor did you have any reason to. All the same, you felt small and insignificant next to her. It also made you realize even if you were not his lawyer, there was no way in a million years you had a shot with The Daniel Riccardo, charming world renown Formula 1 driver who had his choice of any woman on the planet.

It was a humbling realization, which ultimately boded well for you. In setting your delusions aside, you resolved to have a lovely day of racing with hopefully a new friend and nothing more. You felt a calm rush over you and relished in the freedom that came without the weight of expectations.

You turned to Luisinha with a warm grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Unfortunately, the good company did not translate to a good race. You were happy for Lando who placed a strong 6th, but with all the hype leading up to it, Daniel had only finished 16th. You heart broke for him as you waited by while he gave his post race interviews, his signature smile notably absent. He excused himself after the last interview, and you silently followed him. When you caught up, you found him sitting on the floor in quiet corridor, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. Saying nothing, you sat down next to him. The two of you remained like that for a while, a quiet understanding silently exchanged.

Eventually you check the time. The beginning of the weekend had held the promise of potential, with big plans to hit the town to match. But in a death by a thousand cuts, today’s race delt a final blow to the driver’s confidence. You were sure at this point a party of any kind was the last thing Daniel wanted. You cautiously broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about the race. We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

He briefly hesitated, but weakly smiled for the first time since that morning. “Are you joking? I’m not passing up a chance to go out in my favorite city. I can rally, promise.”

You gave him a knowing glance, understanding he was putting on a brave face. What for, you couldn’t tell.

“Well, you have six hours left of work-free y/n. I’m at your disposal.”

“What happens in six hours?”

“I turn into a pumpkin,” you quipped. You bumped shoulders and smiled. With that, he stood up first and offered his hand to pull you to your feet. Without letting go, he started walking.

“Excuse me, where are we going?”

He chimed back with a line you had heard before: “I know a place.”

You ended up in a dive bar with some of the other drivers and their significant others. It was the first time you had met a lot of the others aside from Lando. Perhaps it was because they weren’t your clients, but you found yourself somewhat starstruck. It’s not that you hadn’t seen them around the paddock, but it felt like the first time you were truly brushing elbows with them. You were sure Lewis couldn’t have such flawless skin up close, nor could Carlos’ hair be so voluptuous, yet there they were in the flesh right next to you. You needed a drink to loosen up, and the McLaren crew had had a rough day. Coming in hot, you ordered a round of pickle back shots.

Luisinha was equally fascinated and disgusted. “What is this again? And why are there two? And why is one… green?”

“First you do the shot of whiskey, and then you chase it with a shot of pickle juice. The pickle juice neutralizes the burn from the whiskey and it has electrolytes so it’s kind of healthy!” She hesitantly sniffed the pickle juice and grimaced. You laughed, “Don’t ask questions, just drink. You’ll love it!”

A few more shots and beers later, your inhibitions had dissipated and you were dancing sloppily with Luisinha, feeling the base from the live band through the soles of your shoes. Work, for the first time in months, was the furthest thing from your mind. As you twirled and jumped and sang off key to your heart’s content, you failed to notice the familiar presence of your client approaching.

“Is it ok if I join? I come bearing gifts,” Daniel asked as he shimmied his way into your circle, handing out another round of beers. You can’t help the ear-to-ear smile that makes its way to your face.

“Come dance with us!” you shout over the sound of the bar. Luisinha raises an eyebrow. You both got along swimmingly during the race, and in that time you had clearly conveyed to her that you were Daniel’s lawyer and nothing more. “I’d get on that if I were you,” she teased at the time. You had laughed it off and dismissed it immediately. But seeing the two of you now with your rosy cheeks and lazy smiles, she was fully invested in stirring the pot.

The night’s debauchery continued, Luisinha secretly observing your exchanges. So when Lando tried talking to Daniel about race things, she not-so-discreetly intercepted.

“Honey, why don’t we go grab some more drinks?” Lando, clearly confused, was not picking up what she was putting down.

“What? But I just got us another rou-“

“Pleeeaaase, I’m so thirsty I need some water!” At this point she simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, but not before throwing a wink in your direction.

In your drunken stupor, you weren’t exactly picking up what she was putting down either. All you knew was that you were having a blast. So you decided to keep dancing with Daniel, ignorant to the fact that the crowd had begun to thin. It started with the two of you attempting and failing miserably at line dancing. Which led to you trying to teach him square dancing that you learned in the fifth grade. You lost track of how many times you stepped on each other’s feet and between fits of laughter, you didn’t realize how your hands were comfortably intertwined or the distance between your bodies decreasing.

He spun you away and back in. As you twirled into him a final time, your chests crashed into each other and your hand landed on his shoulder while his found its way to your waist. It was only in that moment with your faces inches apart that you became suddenly aware of your proximity. Feeling his breath tickle your face, you felt like your heart was going to beat its way out of your chest. Your gaze lowers to his plump lips then back to his eyes, counting the freckles. Your laughter slowed, unsure of what was so funny a minute ago.

You broke eye contact to look at the hand resting on his shoulder. What happened next felt like an eternity, but likely only lasted a few seconds. In one moment, you were relishing the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch and the warmth emanating from him, taking note of the rise and fall of your chests in unison, your pulse extending to the furthest reaches of your fingertips. Then, in a quick turn for the worst, your eyes fell to your wrist. According to your watch, you should’ve turned into a pumpkin two hours ago. The haze of the day and the bar and the alcohol lifted, reality quickly setting back in. In a sobering moment, you met his eyes again desperately trying to telecommunicate what you couldn’t put into words. Was he aware of the delicate bubble you two had created for yourselves? Did he realize how fragile it was? Did he know it just burst?

You stepped away from him. “I’m sorry,” was all you could muster before you turned and left.

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #danny ric #f1 x reader #dr3 x reader #f1 x oc #f1 #reader x dr3 #reader x f1 #slow burn #lawyered #formula one fanfiction #laws of attraction

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