#if you know more let me know where to start
Text
GOT WHAT YOU WANTED
summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.
now spinning: too many nights by metro & future
word count: 11.5k
warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)
truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry.
it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs.
those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.
to jj that is.
you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.
jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you.
“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this.
“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire.
jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.
“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.
“other.. boy?”
“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.
“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”
“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”
“no. it didn’t come up.”
“ah. got it.”
“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.
“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.
you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.
“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”
“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”
“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”
“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.”
“no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-”
“just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve.
and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.
but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it.
you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder.
“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”
“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you.
“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.
“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it.
it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.
“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”
“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.
“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”
“guys-”
“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”
“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”
“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.
“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj.
whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.
“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”
“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”
“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.
“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”
“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.
“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.”
“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.
“yes, you do.”
“no, i don’t.”
“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.
“no, she’s not.”
“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-”
“m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”
“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”
“no you fuckin’ don’t.”
“who are you to tell me-”
“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”
you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.
“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.
“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”
“what else do you want me to say, huh?”
“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”
“m’not ignoring anything-”
“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”
“shut up.”
“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”
“what? what do you want?”
“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”
“don’t talk like that.”
“rafe.”
exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you.
that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet.
you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with.
the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.
rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.
“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out.
you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.
“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.
“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.
“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”
“is that your way of apologizing?”
“it’s not an apology.”
“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”
“i didn’t.”
“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”
rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.
“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.
“thanks rafe.”
“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window.
“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.
“kid.”
“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.
“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.
“but you get to do it?”
“that’s different-”
“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.
“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”
“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”
“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”
“excuse me?”
“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”
“rafe. shut up.”
“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”
“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”
“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”
“rafe?”
“yeah?”
“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.
“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”
“goodbye, rafe.”
you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.
sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality.
then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you.
key word: maybe.
the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement.
maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.
you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.
.☘︎ ݁˖
rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him.
“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”
“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.
“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.
“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”
“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.
“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.
“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”
“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”
“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”
“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”
“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”
“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.
“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”
“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.
“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.”
“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.
he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped.
when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning.
you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.
if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you.
kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.
“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.
“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.
“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water.
“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”
“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.
“then shut up ‘bout it.”
“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.
when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.
“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you.
the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.
“yeah. i guess i am.”
you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.
“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.
“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”
“you need a ride?”
“no, i drove here, remember?”
“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”
“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.”
“yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.
“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.
“talk about it? talk about what?”
“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”
“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.
“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.
“oh my god-”
“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.
“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”
“what? your mom let me in.”
“you didn’t even text-”
“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”
“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”
“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.
“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.
“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”
“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.
“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”
“oh.”
“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.
“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.
“what about that girl?”
“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”
“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”
“oh. okay. promise?”
“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.
“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.
“alright. get on the bed.”
“rafe-”
“what? i just said-”
“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”
“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”
“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”
“ha-ha. get on the bed.”
“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”
“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”
you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe.
you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head.
the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.
rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.
“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”
“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.
“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.
he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.
“you wearin’ anything under this?”
he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no.
“good girl.”
your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties.
you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.
“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”
before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.
“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!”
“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”
you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.
you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you.
rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers.
“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand.
limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.
“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?
“nothin’.”
“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”
“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now.
“well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.
“what?”
“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea.
he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to.
“god, you’re such a boy.”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.
“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.
“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.
“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.
“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”
“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away.
you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.
you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.
he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder.
your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.
with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours.
you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.
he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy.
rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.
“you didn’t last very long.”
“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”
“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”
“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.
“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay.
you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry.
“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest.
“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”
“your parents are downstairs, remember?”
“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.
“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”
“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”
“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.
“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes.
“why? got nowhere else to be.”
“oh. okay.”
“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”
“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.
“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”
.☘︎ ݁˖
your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.
and the part where you slept with your best friend.
a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.
top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere
kelce: maybe princess finally killed him
top: stop hanging out without us
kelce: top lets just pull up next time
you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.
“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.”
“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”
“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”
rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.
“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”
you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.
“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”
rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.
“you wanna say that again?”
“uhh-”
“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”
“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”
“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.
“get out!”
“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”
“okay! wait, stay.”
“s’what i thought.”
“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.
“you woke me up.”
“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”
“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.
“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.
“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone.
about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.
you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.
but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it.
with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not.
after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead.
the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.
“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.
“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”
“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.
“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”
“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”
“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”
“you too. tell them i say hi.”
the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.
you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you.
you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.
“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.
“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.
“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”
“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.
“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”
“thanks top.”
you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top.
walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.
it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on.
“hey.”
“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”
“yeah.”
“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”
“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.
“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”
“yeah, i did.”
“i just hope they’re sweet.”
“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”
“it’s a great day. good weather.”
“you already said that.”
“oh.”
“would you stop and look at me?”
“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.
“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.
“i’m fine.. are you okay?”
“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”
“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”
“you were on board-”
“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”
“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.
“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”
“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.
“why are you being so nice about it?”
“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”
“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”
“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”
“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”
“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”
“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.
“you’re starin’.”
“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”
“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”
turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.
from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.
“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.
“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”
you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear.
he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.
“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.
“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?”
“shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”
“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”
“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck.
“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away
“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.
“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.
your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.
you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.
“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.
“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.
“fun. what time?”
.☘︎ ݁˖
finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.
“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.
“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat.
you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.
topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now).
you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.
inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks.
the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.
“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.
“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.
“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.
he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands.
if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.
“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.
he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.
“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.
“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot.
he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.
“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.
“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”
“but i made the last one!”
“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”
“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.
for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.
“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.
“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”
“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you.
“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.
“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer.
“alright, you’re cut off.”
the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him.
you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.
“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”
“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.
“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.
“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.
“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch.
you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.
this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are.
rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.
“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”
“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.
“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”
“man, why am i always on top watch-”
in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.
“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.
kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now.
“enough. why?”
“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.
“you saw me?”
“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.
“what, you jealous, kid?”
“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.
“no, m’not.”
you bite your cheek and stare out the window.
“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.
tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.
you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.
you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?
grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.
“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.
“the couch.”
“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”
“i’m starting something new.”
“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.
you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.
“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.
rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.
“what the hell was that?”
“this whole thing was a mistake.”
“it’s been two days.”
“well i’m an emotional fuck!”
“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.
“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?”
“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”
“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”
“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”
“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?”
in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.
or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.
the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you.
you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.
and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.
“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”
“you should have just confessed.”
“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”
“it’s been two days,” you mock.
“yeah, well, we tried it.”
“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.
“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”
“so if we break up-”
“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”
“shut up.”
“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”
“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets.
“learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”
“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”
“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.
“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”
#😭here it is#i am so nervous about this if you think it’s ass . i apologize in advance#kook trio reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!
Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)
Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.
Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol
Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx
If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.
“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.
Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”
Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”
When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.
Unknown Number
Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…
Y/n
Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.
The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.
Unknown Number
WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?
Unknown Number
YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN
Unknown Number
If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit
Unknown Number
LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE
Unknown Number
Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder
Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.
Y/n
You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!
His response was immediate.
Unknown Number
Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?
Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.
Y/n
*Image Attached*
Y/n
I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.
The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.
Unknown Number
Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.
Unknown Number
You are very pretty tho
Y/n giggled,
Y/n
Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.
Unknown Number
Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.
Y/n
How do I know this for sure?
Unknown Number
Trust me?
Y/n
Okay, ig. What’s your name?
The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.
“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.
However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.
Unknown Number
Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?
Y/n
I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)
Y/n
Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny
🏎️
The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.
Bob!
Good morning :)
Bob!
Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?
Y/n
Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.
Bob!
GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n
Y/n
Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol
Y/n
I live in London! What about you?
Bob!
Monaco
Y/n
Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?
Bob!
NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho
Y/n
Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.
Bob!
😭
Y/n
No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces
Bob!
Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.
Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.
She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.
Y/n
Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.
Bob!
Ok! text me when you’re free?
Y/n
yesss
—
There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.
Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.
Bob!
Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!
Y/n
sry, i just got home.
Bob!
Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??
Y/n
yeah
Bob!
Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you
Y/n
that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?
Bob!
you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times
Y/n
thats love fr
Y/n
but yeah its been a long day
Bob!
oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?
Y/n
Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.
Bob!
Talk to me about it then <3
Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.
Y/n
it’s ok. Thank you tho bob
Bob!
Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?
Y/n
no one?
Bob!
you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.
Y/n
We barely know each other.
Bob!
Do i look like i care?
She laughs and types,
Y/n
Bob, I don’t even know what you look like
Bob!
We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything
Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Y/n
People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?
There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.
Bob!
I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.
There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.
Y/n
Thank you. That means a lot.
Bob!
Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.
Y/n
When were you experiencing it?
Bob!
A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.
Y/n
You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.
Bob!
There’s not much to tell, Y/n.
Y/n
You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?
Bob!
I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.
Y/n
VAGUE
Bob!
Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs
Her eyes twinkle,
Y/n
Haha yeah right brotha
Y/n
That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.
Bob!
Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.
Y/n
You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?
Bob!
If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha
She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.
“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.
She breathes, “Bob?”
There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.
“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”
He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”
The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”
“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”
Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.
Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.
“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.
Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”
She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”
He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”
The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.
Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.
🏎️
“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.
“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.
Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”
Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”
Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”
“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.
Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”
Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.
“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.
Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”
“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.
Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”
Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”
Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.
“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.
“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.
Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”
He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”
She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.
Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”
Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”
“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.
Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”
Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”
Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”
As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”
Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.
—
Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.
“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.
Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”
Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”
Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”
Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”
“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.
Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.
🏎️
There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.
Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.
“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?
But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.
Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.
A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.
Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.
This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.
Robert Dancing does not exist.
🏎️
Unknown
Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?
Y/n
Everything is fine.
Unknown
Can I call you now?
Y/n
I’m busy.
Unknown
It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?
Unknown
Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?
Y/n
Stop messaging me.
Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.
Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”
She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”
Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.
“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.
Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”
A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”
A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”
“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.
“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.
He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”
She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”
“Y/n, I-”
She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”
A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”
Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.
He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.
What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”
With that, she hangs up the phone.
—
Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.
No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.
“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.
A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”
Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.
“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.
Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.
Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.
—
It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.
The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.
From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.
Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.
She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.
Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”
The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”
Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”
He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.
Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.
Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.
With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.
🏎️
The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.
She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.
He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”
It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.
When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.
“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”
The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.
The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.
The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.
He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”
Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”
He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.
Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”
“Y/n Y/l/n.”
He lifts his head slowly, “What?”
At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”
A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.
He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.
“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.
She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”
Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”
“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.
Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”
She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”
He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”
Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.
At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”
He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”
Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”
He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.
Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”
Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”
🏎️
The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.
Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.
So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.
“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.
A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”
Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.
When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.
Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.
He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.
He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”
He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.
The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.
Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.
“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.
Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.
“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.
“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.
“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.
Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”
What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.
“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.
She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.
“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.
“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”
Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”
He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”
Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”
Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”
Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.
“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.
He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”
Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”
His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”
She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”
Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”
Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”
She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.
🏎️
Y/n
Can you stop blowing up my phone
Bob <3
Why????? I’m bored baby
Y/n
im at work girly
Bob <3
girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me
Y/n
I think you might be obsessed with me
Bob <3
i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?
Y/n
girl
She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.
“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.
She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”
“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.
Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”
Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”
Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”
Lando hums, “An hour?”
“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”
Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”
She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”
He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”
“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.
He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”
She’d never get tired of saying it.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris edit#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfiction#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3
ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k
cw suggestive content
“Is that okay?” he whispers.
You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy.
Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh.
He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt.
Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine.
He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head.
“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.”
“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret.
“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs.
You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen.
You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands.
There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops.
“I really am sorry, Pete.”
His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?”
“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.”
“What? What are you talking about? I started it.”
“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”
“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it.
“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.”
“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.”
“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.”
“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.”
You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then.
“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively.
“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.”
“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.”
“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh.
“From that statue on ESU?”
“What? How would I do that?”
“Get Spider-Man to help you.”
You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?”
“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.”
You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?”
Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.”
“I’ll try not to, Pete.”
#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter parker x you#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm x reader#peter parker x reader#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm! peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman fanfiction
630 notes
·
View notes
Text
Race
Grace Clinton x Hamilton!Reader
Summary: Racing at its finest
"And Verstappen comes around the second to last corner! It's tight! It is tight! But he's got it!"
Grace stares at the screen, eyes wide.
"The Hamilton siblings come out neck and neck on the same turn."
You battle it out with your brother, slamming your foot down as his attention wavers.
You'd been waiting for this for a while. It had always been harder for you than Lewis, you always had to push harder, further, faster just because you were a girl.
But you were good.
You knew you were good.
He knew you were good.
"And Hamilton's Mercedes makes way for Hamilton's Ferrari!"
Ferrari knew you were good.
You floored it, leaving your brother in the dust.
Grace clenches her fists.
"Hamilton is gaining on Verstappen on the last corner. Verstappen attempts defensive manoeuvres but...Verstappen still in the lead! Hamilton is trying to get past...On the straight now. And...And...Hamilton is leading! Hamilton is leading in the last seconds of the British Grand Prix! Verstappen tries to reclaim but-but- She's done it! Y/n Hamilton, the first woman to win a Grand Prix in F1 history!"
The room erupts as you cross over the line and Grace can hear you over the radio.
"Thank fuck!"
"Congratulations, y/n. First win for you."
You pant over the radio as you begin to slow down your car. "Where did Lewis rank?"
"Third. You beat Verstappen by two tenths of a second."
"Is Grace there? Can I talk to Grace?"
She grabs the radio. "I'm here, babe. I'm here. I'm so proud of you."
You cheer in the car. "D'you like it? I told you you'd like it!"
Grace laughs. "I could do without the near misses. Is your brother going to be annoyed you passed him?"
"Hey, there's a reason he's moving to my team's greener pastures. You coming out to see me, superstar?"
Your car rolls to a stop and Grace comes bursting out to see you. You're standing up on the frame of your car, looking at the fans as you take off your helmet, fist pumped into the air.
You jump down when you notice her, crushing her into a hug.
"You're sweaty!" She laughs.
"Like you have anything to say. Sweaty footballer, you are!"
Grace just keeps laughing, letting you pick her up and spin her around.
Lewis pulls up next as Grace fists the front of your outfit and tugs you into a heady kiss.
"Well done," He says to you," But do you have to do that in public?"
You grin. "Yeah. Not to brag but I just won. I think I'm allowed to kiss my girlfriend."
He groans good naturedly, bumping your shoulder with his. "You're going to use that as an excuse all the time, aren't you?"
"You know me so well."
You keep your hand laced with Grace's as you head up to the podium through the backways of the building.
"World Champion next year then?" She teases, completely relaxed under your arm.
You flash her a grin. "Is that what you want? 'Cause I can do that for you. I want a WSL title in return though."
"I can arrange that."
There's no one else around you. It's just you and her and you steal another kiss while no one is there to complain.
She gasps into your mouth but reciprocates quickly, one hand on your hip while the other cups the back of your neck.
"What would you say if I tell you that you looked so fit driving that car?" She whispers against your lips.
"I'd say that I was wearing a massive helmet that covered my face so there's no way I looked fit at all."
"Then I'd say it must have been your voice," Grace replies," All rugged and angry when Norris cut you up in the ninth lap."
"That sounds more reasonable," You say," You look fit when you kick around a ball for ninety minutes."
"Good." Grace draws back, lacing your fingers with hers as she pulls you to start walking again. "Now, go get that trophy so I can capitalise on just how fit you actually are."
458 notes
·
View notes
Note
and while we’re on the clingy!spencer topic, can we please please talk about spencer refusing to let you out of bed, just wanting to sleep in and cuddle on your day off *cry*
you know me soo well anon.. this is so whsiabdiwbdwonsi !!! im sorry if the format is terrible, i wrote this on mobile :(
Spencer is a morning person. Really, he is! …For the most part. It’s just that, as much as he likes getting up early, there’s one thing that he’d choose doing over pretty much anything else: Cuddling with you!
So, of course, that’s how he wants to spend his day off. With his arms wrapped around your torso, laying against your chest, legs tangled in yours. His face tucked into your neck, snoring softly. The two of you are so close, you struggle to tell where his body ends and yours begins.
He’s a deep sleeper, heavier than he looks, with a suprisingly strong grip. It’d be hard to get out if you wanted to. But you don’t. How could you, really, when he’s this cuddly and comfortable and warm and soft and… BUT for the record, the logical part of you does try and make an effort to actually start the day.
“Spence.. It’s almost noon??” Just to be met with an unintelligible “mmfmmh” and a promise of just five more minutes (Also read as: another half hour.)
Any time you call him out on it, he hits you with his best over-exaggerated pout and puppy eyes, and he just knows you won’t be able to say no to him. So you just let him cuddle back into you, grumbling at his little victorious smirk. (He drives you insane. (affectionate))
masterlist | inbox ♡
taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons @spencereidapologist @lyd14k4y @luvkatryna (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#spencer x reader#spencer reid fluff#x reader#reid x reader
491 notes
·
View notes
Text
breathe — 2min
pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho
tags: established relationship, polyamory, bdsm, smut!!!🔞
warnings: swearing, throuple, mxm, degradation, pet play, breath play, collars and leashes, anal!!, butt plugs, oral (m receiving), nipple play (f), choking, seungmin and his canonically established pain kink, thigh humping, unprotected sex, sub/dom dynamics, sub!reader, mean dom!seung, soft dom!minho, implied subspace, use of “slut”, “bunny”, “bubs”, “pet”, “dumb”, slight humiliation kink, choking on cum, use of a non-verbal stop light system, reader goes yellow but it’s all good, absolutely sappy in the end, smut with so many feelings, lmk if i missed something!
inspo: 2min in the new teaser pics
notes: again, i got carried away. it appears the dirtier i try to make something the sappier it turns out. i think i started this two days ago and my mood drastically changed from horny as fuck to in love as fuck. please let me know how this turned out 🥹
{ wc: 5610 }
“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Minho asks, softly, as he turns the collar around in his hands.
It’s pink, a little bell hanging off the metal heart in the middle, three different slots available to tighten for size.
Seungmin bought it last week, after five whole days of discussions.
You asked your boyfriends for a collar, and Seungmin instantly agreed. Although it took a little more time to persuade Minho. He wanted it, you could tell by the crimson shade of his ears as soon as you initially brought the idea up—but Minho was the kind of boyfriend that never wanted to hurt you. Even though he knew you enjoyed it, he always wanted to protect you. Seungmin understood both of you equally, which was what helped the three of you work as flawlessly as you did. Seungmin shared Minho’s concerns, heard them and nodded his head silently, while also teasing you for how excited the idea made you.
In the end, Seungmin showed you three collars and when your eyes lingered a few seconds longer on the pink one he added it to his cart that night.
Yesterday the package arrived.
“Minho, I’m sure,” you promise him, “it’s gonna be so fucking hot.”
Minho smirked at you, shy and excited, his eyes locked on yours.
“You know Kim Seungmin loves you on your knees,” he says lowly, “I do, too.”
“You do?” You smile.
“Mhm hmm,” Minho nods sharply, “look so pretty with your beautiful eyes looking up at us.”
“Min, please,” you say, so soon, “put it on me?”
“Go get dressed,” Minho orders, “Seungminnie is gonna get here in ten minutes and then we can do everything you asked for.”
You smile big, excitedly clapping your hands together. Minho chuckles at you, eyes sparkling before he plants a small kiss on your lips.
“Go on,” he says, enamoured, before sitting back on the bed—collar still clutched tightly in his hand.
You quickly go to the bathroom, where your outfit is waiting on the counter. You get dressed, your new matching pink lace set fitting your body perfectly. The thong is a little tight, but you don’t think it’s gonna stay on for too long—so you don’t mind it much.
You take a look in the mirror, silently thanking Seungmin for his taste in lingerie; it makes you feel so incredibly sexy. You can’t wait to feel their eyes on you as they see the way the pink fabric compliments your curves.
With excitement, butterflies dancing all around your insides, you take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom.
Minho’s spread on the bed, hand tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. You can tell he’s looking forward to tonight, his sweats doing a poor job at concealing his already present bulge.
When he hears the bathroom door close shut, he looks up. His mouth falls open, front teeth peeking out as he looks you up and down three times. Then, “holy shit.”
“You like it?”
Minho swallows, eyes growing wide as he nods repeatedly.
“God, bunny,” he says, slightly breathless, “look at you.”
“I think I like it better when you look at me,” you chuckle.
“I’m looking,” he says, licking his lips, “god. Fuck.”
He sits up, his phone long forgotten and with a small flick of his fingers calls you over. You waste no time at all, quickly climbing on the bed to sit by his side.
“So pretty like this,” he runs his hands over your hair, softly brushing it with his fingers. “Pretty bunny.”
His hand leaves your hair after a few moments, running down your bare back before he softly cups your ass.
“So soft,” he hums, tucking his finger under the fabric of your g-string. He runs his finger up and down, tugging it tighter around you.
With his other hand, Minho runs his fingers over your stomach, higher and higher until he cups your tits in his hand. He’s gentle, rubbing his thumb over the soft lace and when your breath hitches he starts circling your nipple through your pink bra.
“Wanna touch you all over,” he mumbles, “but I don’t think it’ll be right to take these off yet. Look how perfect your tits are in this.”
You blush at his words but Minho is too distracted by your chest to comment on it. He pushes the cup down, only enough for your nipple to peak out, and then he rubs his thumb over it in quick motions.
You moan softly, mouth gaped and body already reeling from the touch. Something about Minho not even undressing you before he starts playing with your body ignites a fire in your stomach.
He leans forward, looking up at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, sparkling eyes locking on yours as he flicks his tongue repeatedly around your sensitive bud.
“Min, that feels really nice,” you sigh, carding your fingers through his soft hair. He smiles up at you, tongue flicking through his open lips before he closes his eyes—eagerly sucking around your nipple.
With a soft pop he moves away, rubbing his hand against your waist before giving the same attention to your other breast, eager to keep hearing your soft moans.
His hands join together behind your back, rubbing up and down freely before he cups your ass. He hums, content, the vibrations against your skin sending butterflies into your core.
He pulls away again, satisfied for the time being, looking up at you.
“I had an idea,” he says, lowly, “there was something else in the box I didn’t show you.”
“What was it?”
Minho reaches underneath the pillow, pulling out a long and white fluffy tail. You feel your face burning up.
“Why didn’t Seungmin say anything?” You ask, excitement buzzing through you at the idea of wearing a tail with the collar.
“This one was my idea,” Minho admits, a shy smile on his face.
“You can put it on me,” you say with a grin.
Then, Minho turns it around, showing you the small butt plug attached to the end of the tail.
You let out a small gasp, your lips forming a perfect circle at the realisation Minho actually bought you a toy like this. Your cheeks are so warm.
“I didn’t expect this from you,” you admit, taking the tail into your hands and inspecting it closer. The plug itself isn’t too big, but since the three of you don’t experiment with anal that often you know you’d feel a stretch either way. You feel your walls clench for a moment at the thought of wearing it.
“I didn’t expect it either,” Minho admits, cupping your ass and rubbing circles on it with his palms. “When Seungminnie showed me the website it popped up and I added it. I don’t know, bunny, the thought of you on your knees with a little tail between your legs made me so hard.”
“I want you to put it in, Minho,” you say, and your voice sounds foreign in your ears, “please.”
Minho nods.
He slips one of his hands beneath the pink fabric of your thong, his other hand gripping your ass hard. He brings his middle finger to your hole, circling it softly.
You grip his shoulders, breathing laboured as you lock your eyes on his.
“I need to get the lube,” Minho says, pressing the pad of his finger flat against your hole. You know he can slip it right in if he wanted to—but you can’t deny he’s right. His fingers are too dry and the slide won’t be easy at all, so Minho prefers to simply tease the entrance with his finger. It makes you moan either way, the novelty of it all and the sensitive nerves sending pleasure through your body with something as simple as this.
“I’ll go get it?” You offer through a small sigh.
“Delivery is on its way,” Minho says, leaning forward towards your chest and kissing around it.
You’re not sure what he means but you ignore it when he slowly starts pushing the tip of his finger in and out of your hole—in and out, in and out. You don’t think he inserts more than a centimetre inside you, but it still feels so so snug. So weird. So fucking good.
You hear the front door open and close before Seungmin’s voice follows with a small, “I’m home!” and the butterflies in your stomach start soaring.
Minho chuckles lightly, feeling the way your body reacts to Seungmin’s voice. “Excited to see our puppy?”
You nod happily, a broken gasp leaving your lips when Minho slips his finger in deeper. “He’ll be so happy to see you like this.”
The door to the bedroom practically flies open, and Seungmin doesn’t even say hello. He leans over you, a bottle of lube in his hands, and without any prior warning—he spills it directly on your ass.
It’s cold so you hiss loudly, but Seungmin only shushes you in return.
More and more of it trickles down your body, all over Minho’s finger and down to your cunt. All you can do is moan as Minho easily slips his finger all the way in, knuckle deep.
“There you go,” Minho coos, “take it, baby.”
“Feels so nice, Min,” you let your head fall forward, focusing on the pleasure the stretch provides you.
“Let me look at her, hyung,” Seungmin says, his voice covered in an edge you can’t quite place.
You let your eyes flutter open, moans tumbling freely out of your mouth as you look at Seungmin. He was at an important meeting, you aren’t too sure for what, but he was still wearing his smart clothes. They were so different from his every day sweats, and although you loved him in anything he wore, there was something particularly beautiful about Seungmin wearing tight fitting dress pants and a fashionable cardigan.
You wanted him to rip his clothes off.
“I knew you’d like the tail hyung got us,” Seungmin smirks, his eyes drinking in your outfit before settling on your lips, “knew you wanted it in every hole.”
“Seung,” you let out, ears growing warm at his accusation.
“I’m wrong?” You don’t answer, “our dirty little pet doesn’t like how hyung is fucking her ass right now?”
You moan as Minho makes a point of adding a second finger at that exact moment.
“Stretching you so well,” Seungmin mumbles, looking behind your back at Minho’s actions, “your holes were made for this.”
You reach out for Seungmin’s hand, pulling him closer to you, and he laces your fingers together as he sits down beside you.
“You bought the cutest set, Seungminnie,” Minho says, as he watches Seungmin’s fingers run over the lace.
“You chose the cutest tail,” he returns.
“I-I’m ready,” you sigh, “I want it in me.”
“She’s said that so many times already,” Minho reports, “she really wants it.”
“You want your collar, too?” Seungmin asks, sweetly.
“Yes, please,” you try your hardest not to sound too desperate, but the way they both laugh at you makes you think you failed.
Seungmin plants a soft kiss on your cheek before he looks around for the collar, and when he finds it somewhere on the bed he shakes it around. The little bell rattles around with a small repetitive dingdingding. Seungmin smirks.
“Oh, this is gonna be so fucking hot,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up.
Minho slips his fingers out slowly, kissing your shoulder as he tells you he thinks you’re ready now. You nod. You have no idea if he stretched you wide enough, but you don’t care. You just want them to start already.
You watch as Minho grabs the tail from the fluffy side, dowsing the plug side with lube before he looks up at you. The cautious look is back in his eyes, and he hesitates, but once he sees your blown pupils and quick breaths he leans forward.
He circles the plug around your hole a few times, letting you get used to the coolness of the lube (unlike Seungmin) before slowly pushing it inside you. He pulls it out, then back in—in out, in out, before it slips all the way inside you with a loud moan.
“Oh, my god,” you sigh, “feels so tight.”
Seungmin runs a hand up and down your thighs. Minho starts playing with the fluffy ends of the tail. You can hear him giggling.
“It’s okay, bunny?” Minho asks when you fall silent.
You nod, clenching your fists tightly to stop yourself from touching your clit and derailing the whole evening. Your senses are on fire, the tightness of the plug causing your walls to flutter repeatedly. You try to focus on your boyfriends, who are looking at you curiously.
“I have so many things I wanna do to you, bubs,” Seungmin says, “you’re good to let me ruin you?”
“Please, Seungmin,” you groan, “ruin me as much as you want.”
He chuckles. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah?”
He opens up the collar, watching you slowly as he secures it in place. He locks it on the first loop, the loosest option, and kisses you softly.
Minho runs his hands through your hair, delicately pulling it up into a ponytail as he pushes it away from your face. You aren’t sure when he got the hair tie, but he’s delicate with it, even pulling out a few strands from the side like how you always do.
“Thank you,” you say, surprised.
“So it doesn’t get in the way,” he explains. Your heart skips a beat, understanding they must’ve discussed what they wanted to do tonight beforehand, leaving it as a surprise for you.
Seungmin leans over your shoulder, kissing Minho’s lips messily, before the older pushes him off.
“Youngest first,” Minho says, pointing at the box at the edge of the room where the rest of the toys came from.
Seungmin gets up from the bed, grabbing a matching pink leash out of the box.
He secures the leash onto the collar, giving the handle to Minho before he steps back.
He opens the button on his pants.
You watch as he lets them fall onto the floor, pooling around his feet, along with his boxers.
His cock stands against his stomach at full hardness already, and you swallow tightly.
“Kim Seungmin,” Minho grumbles impatiently, “shirt off. We wanna see all of you.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes but acquiesces, chucking his shirt to the side.
“He’s so pretty,” you voice out loud.
“I know,” Minho agrees, reaching his fingers towards Seungmin's stomach. He runs them up and down the soft skin, and you watch fascinated as small goosebumps rise on the skin of his thighs.
“Minho,” you let out breathless, “I wanna bite him.”
Minho laughs, almost evilly. “I think you should.”
“Yeah?” You blink at Minho.
He nods. “You know how much our boy likes that kinda thing. Do what you want, bunny. I’ll pull you back if I want to, right?”
Your eyes move towards Minho’s hand, thick veins accenting his knuckles as the bright pink leash sits securely in his hands. You clench your thighs together.
Minho grabs one of the pillows and drops it to the floor, right at Seungmin’s feet.
“Down, pet,” Seungmin commands. You have to hold back a moan.
You slowly move onto the floor, knees comfortably sitting on top of the pillow Minho provided. Each small movement nudges the plug inside you—you feel so dizzy with want, with excitement, you aren’t sure you’re even in your own body.
But knowing Minho is holding onto you, connected to him by pink leather, puts you at ease. Minho would never let anything happen to you, and Seungmin would kiss you better if it ever did.
You get into position, holding onto Seungmin’s soft thighs.
“Open,” Seungmin orders, running his thumb across your chin. You open your mouth, instinctively sticking your tongue all the way out as you get comfortable on your knees.
Seungmin laughs at you, shaking his head softly.
“You were waiting to do that, huh?” He says, lowly.
You nod your head, and the bell around your neck starts clicking.
“Such a pathetic girl,” Seungmin whispers, “letting hyung stick a fucking tail in your ass? And you liked it?”
“I liked it so much, Seung,” you whine, “it feels so nice.”
“You didn’t even thank hyung,” Seungmin points out.
You feel a small tug at your collar, so you turn around towards Minho. He’s lying back, hand tucked beneath his head again, his black t-shirt showing off his arms beautifully.
“Thank you, Minho,” you say.
“For what?” Seungmin pushes.
“Thank you for fucking my ass with the tail,” you choke out, heat running up and down your entire body.
Minho doesn’t say anything, but you see his knuckles tighten around the leash.
Your chin is tugged harshly as Seungmin turns your head back towards him, smiling wickedly at you.
“Good pet,” he says, “now I’m gonna fuck a different hole of yours. And you’re not going to stop until hyung pulls you off, yeah?”
“Yes,” you sigh, “please.”
You feel Minho’s hand rub up and down your shoulder, as he plants a small kiss on your temple.
He grabs your hand, holding one of your fingers up.
“One finger means green,” he explains, kissing your knuckle. Then he holds up your second finger, “two means yellow,” then he unravels your whole hand so all your fingers are pointing upwards. He kisses your open palm before saying, “five fingers means red. Can you do that for us, bunny?”
“I can’t speak?” You ask after Minho gives you a small kiss.
“You’re allowed to,” Minho says, “but he’s gonna fuck your throat so you probably won’t be able to.”
You clench around the air, shifting on top of your knees.
You nod, fingers tingling at the idea before you look up at Seungmin.
His cock is bright red already, the head glistening slightly. You want to taste him.
You squeeze his thighs, making a point of using your nails, and he lets out a soft groan.
“Our pet has sharp claws, huh?” Minho chuckles.
You lean forward, planting a few kisses around his hip bone before you scrap your teeth against the skin.
Seungmin lets out a high pitch sigh.
“She bites, too,” Minho hums.
“Want more,” Seungmin groans as you bite him again, sucking on the skin before you lick over the small indents from your teeth.
Minho sinks his fingers into your roots, scraping against the nape of your neck with his blunt nails. You barely notice it when he guides your head further down Seungmin’s body.
Minho pushes your face against Seungmin’s pelvis, your nose brushing against the thick stubble. You kiss anywhere your lips can reach—but you can’t ignore the heat coming from his cock any longer.
Slowly, you lick the tip once and then twice and then Seungmin hisses, “take it all, pet. Come on.”
You do as you’re told, letting your jaw drop slack as you slip as much of it inside your mouth as you can.
The height isn’t exactly perfect for your current task, so you try to make up for it, lifting up on your knees to make up for Seungmin’s long legs.
Minho notices, and when he does, he tugs on the leash just enough so that you start struggling against his grip. He’s trying to push you back down to the floor.
The lower you are, the harder it is to fit all of Seungmin’s length inside your mouth but the more you try to lift up—the harder Minho tugs on your leash.
Your thighs are starting to shake.
As a distraction you focus on fluttering your tongue against Seungmin, sucking harder around his warm cock as the salty taste takes over your thoughts.
You want him closer, you want more, and when you drag your body towards him your pussy rubs just right against the pillow you’re sitting on.
You moan around him, and Seungmin throws his head back from the vibrations. Minho tugs on your leash in warning.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says.
Obviously, you do it again.
“Up,” he orders, “on your knees, up.”
You lift yourself up, struggling to sit up on your knees, but thankfully it’s much easier to control what you’re doing that way.
When you start finding your pace, head bobbing up and down freely, Minho tugs on the leash so quickly you lose your breath for a moment or two.
Once the collar isn’t digging into your throat as much you try to breathe in, but Seungmin holds your head in place.
“Such a warm hole for me,” he mumbles, “you don’t need to breathe, right?”
You look up at him, blinking away tears as you breathe in quickly through your nose.
He tugs at your ponytail until his dick falls out of your mouth. You gasp in as much air as you can.
“What do you like more, slut, breathing or my cock?”
“Your cock,” you say, embarrassingly fast, “it’s better than anything else.”
“God, you’ve gone entirely dumb,” Seungmin mocks, eyes narrowed at you.
You nod, the bell rings along with your movements. “Keep going, Seungmin. You said you’d ruin me, please fucking ruin me.”
“Hyung,” he whines, “I’m gonna cum all over her fucking face like this.”
At that Minho grabs you from behind, small hands covering your head as he guides you back onto Seungmin’s cock. You quickly swallow him in, getting used to the weight of him in your mouth again.
You grab onto his thighs for support, making sure to dig your nails into the skin again. As you let go of any control you have, you allow Minho to push your head up and down, up and down, while Seungmin gets louder and louder.
You bring your hands onto his stomach, scratching five long lines on each side from his hips to his thighs.
Seungmin keens.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he starts chanting, “do it-do that, do that again.”
Minho runs his hand down Seungmin’s back, scratching harshly as Seungmin lets out his loudest moan yet.
“Make her choke on my cum, make her choke on it, fuck fuck fuck—“
Minho shoves your head down until your nose is flush against Seungmin’s pelvis. You look for air anywhere you can but there isn’t much. The tip is so deep inside your throat you’re sure it can be seen clearly through your neck, but neither of them can see anything when you’re pressed flush against Seungmin.
A moment or two of nothing but Seungmin’s moans and you gagging, and then the salty taste gets stronger and his cum fills your throat in a sudden gush and Minho pulls you off in a matter of seconds.
You don’t even open your eyes, too overwhelmed by the speed of it all, focusing all your efforts on making up for the lack in your lungs without actually choking on your boyfriend’s cum.
Once you recover enough you remember to swallow what’s left in your mouth, the rest spilled all over you and the pillow and your brand new pink lace.
You feel a hand on your chin, cleaning you up, and when you open your eyes Minho’s looking you up and down seriously.
“How are we doing?”
“Green,” you practically moan, “keep going, I’m not done.”
“Calm down,” Seungmin chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you sucked my soul out.”
You grin at that, pride filling your chest at the state he’s in.
His chest is covered in a sheer layer of sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead even though he styled them away from his face today—and his cheeks are bright pink. There’s scratches all down his thighs; you imagine his back doesn’t look any better. He can barely keep his eyes open, still breathing in and out with effort.
“You’re so fucking hot like this, Seung,” you groan, “please, I can go again.”
“I can’t,” he falls on his back, covering his face with his arm as his chest raises up and down rapidly. “Leave me alone.”
You look up at Minho, eyebrows lifting in a silent plea.
“Go on,” he says, one corner of his lips lifting up into a smile, “hump his thighs.”
Seungmin groans, as if protesting, but he spreads himself on the bed until he looks comfortable. Then, he lifts his arm away from his eyes.
He licks his lips and you notice his breathing has settled down slightly. He doesn’t move, barely reacts as you climb onto his thigh and drag your cunt over the soft skin.
You groan as the damp fabric rubs against your folds.
There’s a constant ding ding ding from the bell, the sound spurring you on to go faster and faster.
“You did so well,” Minho praises, “and you’re so eager to do more. You have to cum for us first as a reward for all your hard work.”
You nod, “yeah, thank you. Thank you, Minho.”
“Like when you train a puppy to do tricks,” Seungmin explains, “we’re gonna let you cum as your treat.”
You whine at his words, dragging your hips back and forth at an aching pace.
“Show off your tail, baby,” Minho mumbles, “looks so fucking hot when it bounces around like that.”
You can’t imagine there’s any kind of grace in your movements, far too concerned with chasing the pleasure to think of how it looks—but Minho’s eyes are frozen on your ass, completely enchanted by the fluffy white tail.
It’s only when he slaps your ass, the surprise causing you to fall forward on Seungmin’s chest, that you feel yourself on the edge of cumming. The drag of your cunt against Seungmin’s thigh and the newfound angle nudging the plug inside you just right causes your moans to get more intense, louder, more desperate.
Seungmin grabs your tits with both hands, “bubs, cum.”
He says it like a command, like all the other commands he gave you so far tonight, and your body has already learned to react to anything he says.
You instantly start shaking in his hold, tingles running all the way from your toes to the tips of your fingers as your orgasm crashes through you. You clench tightly, the plug making it all the more sweeter as you ride it out for as long as you can.
You collapse on top of Seungmin, a content hum echoing against your chest when he pulls you into a hug.
You watch as Minho lays down next to Seungmin, brushing any stray hairs that fell out of your ponytail from all your efforts. You aren’t sure when he stripped down but he’s completely naked now, and you let yourself indulge in the beautiful sight of his bare body. From his sculptured chest to his thick thighs to his gorgeous cock sitting angry and needy against his stomach.
Seungmin kisses the top of your head, then lazily kisses Minho’s cheek.
“How are you, baby?” He asks.
“So hard I could cry,” Minho chuckles.
Seungmin’s hand wraps around the base of Minho’s cock, squeezing tightly.
Minho groans loudly, the sound so different from how composed he’s been so far. You can see his desperation when he shuts his eyes tightly, mouth hanging open.
“Bunny,” he groans, “how are you?”
All you can do is lift up two fingers.
“Need more rest?” You nod.
“Don’t worry, hyung,” Seungmin says, giving Minho’s cock one full stroke, “I’ll take care of it while our baby rests.”
Seungmin holds you in one arm and uses the other to keep pumping Minho’s cock. Minho moans freely, letting himself enjoy the attention finally being on him.
You know he prefers giving when it’s the three of you, and especially when you decide to try one of your own kinks, but he still loves when the attention is on him—and who wouldn’t love one of Seungmin’s big hands all over them?
No more than thirty seconds pass before you decide you’ve rested enough.
“Let me sit on it,” you mumble out, “want his cock in me.”
“She still sounds so desperate,” Seungmin hums, “we can all barely move but she’s still hungry for cock.”
Minho smiles lazily, grabbing at the leash and pulling you towards him.
You aren’t very graceful when you climb over to his side but you have to do it quickly, the collar already pressing down on your windpipe.
Minho helps you settle on his thighs. You notice just how much bigger they are than Seungmin’s when the stretch in your thigh deepens from the prolonged positioned you’re in.
He pushes your ruined underwear to the side while guiding his cock towards your entrance. He nudges the tip against your clit, spreading all your wetness on his cock before he easily slips it inside you.
It feels tighter than usual, the plug sitting snug right by his cock, and you can cum from the thought alone.
“You two look so good together,” Seungmin mumbles, cupping his balls. With his other hand, he brushes Minho’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m so in love with you two.”
Minho thrusts up, hard, surprising a squeal out of you.
“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “tell him if he says that again I’ll cum.”
“Seungie,” you start, and Minho instantly picks up his pace, practically drilling into you from below, “S-Seungie, tell Minho how, fuck, how much you love him.”
“Shut up,” Minho warns, snapping the leash. You clench as your breath hitches, but that doesn’t stop you.
You wrap your hands around Seungmin’s cock, at full hardness again already, and start lazily stroking him.
He bites his plump lip, blinking slowly at the pair of you.
“Fuck, I love you two so much,” he groans. You pump him faster.
Your coordination is awful, and Minho’s thrusts keep jolting you around, and all three of you can barely move but neither one of you will stop.
It should be awkward. You think it’s nothing less than perfect.
“Hyungie is the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for, and you’re the best girlfriend. It’s like I have the entire world here with me when we’re together. I’m so lucky you two are mine,”
You feel Minho’s dick twitching inside you.
“Say it again,” you whine, “fuck, Seung, I love you.”
He sits up enough to kiss you firmly on the lips, and it’s one too many things to focus on so you don’t think you do a good job of it at all.
You try to put all your energy on Seungmin’s cock, knowing Minho is controlling his own pace well enough, but Seungmin already came tonight and your hand isn’t fast enough.
Still, “Seungmin, I love you so much,” Minho moans. “Fuck, I love you both with my entire heart.”
“Minho,” you whine, not used to him saying things like that so desperately.
“Hyungie,” Seungmin says as he pulls him in for a kiss, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The three of you start breathing desperately, all broken moans and messy kisses.
“I need you two like I need air,” Seungmin says.
“I couldn’t breathe without either one of you,” Minho agrees.
“Fuck,” you gasp out as Seungmin pushes the tail deeper inside you, “I need you two, I need you two more than anything.”
“I’m gonna cum,” Minho warms.
“Min, I love you,” you kiss him, “cum for us, Min, wanna feel you so close inside me.”
“M-me too,” Seungmin groans, “gonna cum, too.”
You can’t be the only one left out, and so you quickly start rubbing your clit in figure-eights with your free hand. It’s a mess of movements and an unsynchronized chorus of moans—but soon the three of you are all hit with it at the same time.
Minho gets there first, and it’s a domino reaction when Seungmin notices his boyfriend cumming inside his girlfriend, and your body reacts to the pair of them slowly after.
Minho carefully guides you off his thighs, ignoring the mess between your legs and the way it’s slipping out of your cunt and all over the bed.
He unlocks the leash, opens the collar and throws it off to the side somewhere. He only needs one hand to do so, and you can’t suppress the moan that leaves you from the sight of it. Luckily, they don’t think much of it as the three of you are all still sensitive.
Minho slowly, and with a few reassuring words, slips the plug out as well.
The pair of them rub over your neck and your sore thighs and your exhausted wrist. Minho takes a bit of water and washes over your neck to make sure your skin doesn’t get too irritated and then he makes sure to give you what little is left in the water bottle to drink. Everything still tastes of Seungmin, though.
After a few minutes Minho settles down against your chest, reaching a hand to hold onto Seungmin’s hips.
You’re sandwiched so closely together you might actually stop breathing soon—somehow it’s still not close enough.
“Kim Seungmin,” Minho mumbles, eyes closed, “since when do you get sappy during sex?”
“Wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles sleepily back, “I was overwhelmed. I truly meant it all.”
“Of course you did,” Minho says, as if stating a fact. “There’s a lot of things I’m unsure of, but what the three of us have together isn’t one of them.”
“If you guys don’t shut up I’ll start crying,” you threaten.
Minho kisses your cheek. Seungmin kisses your shoulder.
“You mean the world to me, bubs,” Seungmin mumbles.
“I will cry,” you groan.
“Fine, I hate you. Happy?” Seungmin chuckles.
You giggle at him, “I hate you, too.”
“Why are you two so annoying?” Minho smiles, big and content. You kiss his cheek softly.
It’s sweaty in your three way hug, and you’re still sticky all over, and your throat is on fire from thirst. But still, you don’t move yet, entirely content with being wrapped all around the two of them, unsure of where you end and they begin. It’s fitting like that, you think to yourself, being so close together your breath easily turns into theirs.
#all.works#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#poly!skz#2min smut#2min x reader#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know x y/n#lee know smut#skz smut#seungmin x reader#seungmin x you#seungmin x y/n#seungmin smut#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x you#kim seungmin smut#lee minho x reader#lee minho smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids smut#2mints
403 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.
Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot
Length: 3800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.
Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?
You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.
It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.
"Lieutenant Bradshaw."
He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"
He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"
"Yeah."
"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."
Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."
---------------------------
After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.
It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.
But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?
You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.
It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.
Bradley,
I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.
Yours Truly,
Your favorite pen pal
Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.
But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.
You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.
Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos.
You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.
"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"
You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.
"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?
After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.
"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."
The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.
"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.
The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.
You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten.
Hey, Gorgeous,
I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land.
Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.
Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.
I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you.
Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.
Yours Truly,
Bradley
Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.
-----------------------------
After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.
He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.
As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck.
There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.
Bradley,
I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.
I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable.
You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.
Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.
Hitting send before I can change my mind.
Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.
-----------------------------
"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.
"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.
"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."
"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.
"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.
You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.
At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of that fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.
After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.
Hey, Gorgeous,
Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?
I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually.
Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.
You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.
Yours Truly,
Bradley
---------------------------
Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@chassy21
@solacestyles
@daisyhollyxox
@wintercap89
@blog-name6996
@bcon24
@chaoticassidy
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
@katiebby04
@marantha
@averyhotchner
@abaker74
@heli991113
@k-k0129
@noz4a2
@shanimallina87
@little-wiseone
@ccbb2222
@xoxabs88xox
@thedroneranger
@cherrycola27
@fanboyswhore9
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@desert-fern
@sylviebell
@wkndwlff
@horseslovers2016
@gennyanydots
@mattyskies
@hookslove1592
@blahehblah
@sadpetalsstuff
@local-spidey
@schoollover
@lex-winchester
@magicalmorg
@nicole01-23
@jessicab1991
@happyrebelruins
@samsgoddess
@ughthisisntright
@bellaireland1981
@sagittarius-flowerchild
@mygyn
@yuckosworld
#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x you#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#yours truly bradley bradshaw
469 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sweet as Nuka Cola
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader
You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?
Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)
Word Count: 11k
“Action!”
“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”
Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.
You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.
But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.
“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”
“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”
“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.
“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.
“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.
You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”
“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.
You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.
You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.
“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.
You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.
“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.
“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”
You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”
“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”
Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.
He says your name.
“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”
“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”
You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”
“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”
“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”
The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.
“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.
“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”
“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.
“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”
/
The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.
He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.
So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.
He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.
“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.
He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.
Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.
Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.
This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.
Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.
He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.
There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.
He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.
He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.
“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.
A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.
It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.
Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.
“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”
He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.
Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.
Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.
He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.
“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.
Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.
Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.
There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”
To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.
Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.
Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.
He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.
Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.
Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.
A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.
/
You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.
It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.
Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.
It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.
You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.
“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.
“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”
“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”
“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”
“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.
“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.
“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.
“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”
It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.
Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.
“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”
“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”
“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”
Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.
“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.
It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.
You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.
“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”
Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.
“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”
“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”
“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”
“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”
“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.
It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.
“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”
“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.
“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”
“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”
“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.
Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.
He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.
“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.
/
A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.
No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.
“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”
You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.
“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.
“Was it good?”
“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”
Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.
It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.
You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.
“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”
“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.
Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.
You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.
“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.
“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”
“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”
“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.
“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.
“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”
“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”
You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.
Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”
“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.
“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.
“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”
Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”
He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”
Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”
“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”
“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.
“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.
Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.
“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”
“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”
Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?
“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.
“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”
“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.
“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”
“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”
Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.
“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.
“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.
“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”
That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.
He loved being the hero, really.
He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.
“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.
Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.
“Backlash, really?” You whisper.
“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”
“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.
“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.
And you absolutely are.
“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.
“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.
He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.
God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.
He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.
“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”
You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.
“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.
“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”
/
It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.
You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.
“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.
You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.
You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?
So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.
You shudder.
You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.
/
The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.
Oh fuck.
It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.
Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.
“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”
You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.
“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.
“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”
“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”
“...”
“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.
“I said, how is that any different from before?”
“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.
“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”
“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”
“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.
“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.
“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.
“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”
“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.
“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”
“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.
“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”
“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).
“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.
“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”
“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.
Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.
Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.
“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.
He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.
Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”
“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.
“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”
It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.
“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”
“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.
The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.
“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”
You flinch, and he stops.
“Oh, God, my eyes–”
The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.
You blink, tears rolling down your face.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.
It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.
“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”
Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”
You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”
How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?
“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”
Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”
You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.
You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.
Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.
/
He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.
It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.
But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.
Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.
No wonder he enjoys his casket time.
/
Coop sighs.
Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.
The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.
He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.
It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.
But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.
Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.
He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.
He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.
A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.
Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–
A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.
He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.
No way is he letting easy money pass by him.
He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.
It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.
Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.
And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.
You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”
He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.
Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–
You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.
You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.
Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.
“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him.
“Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”
Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.
“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.
He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.
But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.
You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.
You’re angry at the state of the world.
“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”
“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.
“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”
Coop is actually drawn to silence.
“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”
You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.
Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.
You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”
It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.
He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.
Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.
You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.
Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.
“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”
“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”
“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”
You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.
“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”
You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.
“Alright.” You whisper.
“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.
The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.
/
Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.
He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.
Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.
Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.
You laugh at something the knight next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.
He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.
He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.
You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.
There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.
Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.
You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.
“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”
“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.
“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.
“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.
“Bullshit.”
“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”
“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”
“Nah. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”
“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.
Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.
“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.
“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”
You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.
He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.
It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.
What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?
“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”
You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.
He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.
“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.
“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”
This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.
Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?
He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.
You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.
Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.
He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.
“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.
“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”
“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”
“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”
“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”
It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.
#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#the ghoul#cooper howard#fallout#fallout tv#fallout x reader#fallout x you#ghoul x reader#ghoul x you#fallout show#fallout 2024#fallout tv series#fallout amazon#fotv#fallout series#fallout prime#the ghoul angst#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul fluff#cooper howard imagine#fallout imagine
394 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wet Dreamz (m.s)
master list
matt sturniolo x reader
warnings: smut and swearing
preview: matt and you were partners for a project. he unexpectedly started having sinful dreams about you, suddenly craving you ever since. one thing nobody knew; he was a virgin.
“y/n, you will be partnered with Matt.” the teacher says trying to grab your attention. “y/n? are you listening?” you snap out of your thoughts and look at him. “huh?” you ask. “you’re partnered with Matt for this project.” he replies with an unamused look. you look around before you look back at him. “who’s that?” you ask.
he lets out a sigh before speaking, “Matt raise your hand.” you look around again as you catch the eyes of a brown haired boy. you weren’t mad about it. he looked decent.
you get up and walk to where he was sitting. “next time y/n, i expect you to be paying attention. this project will effect your grade drastically if you do poorly.” you hear the teacher say looking at you. all you do is nod. you were barely passing the class.
Matt’s POV
i got paired with y/n. she didn’t even know who i was. i knew of her because she would get in trouble constantly due to her lack of focus. as she came to sit next to me, we clicked right away. we both dreaded school, but who doesn’t? as much as i didn’t like school, i still paid attention, unlike her, so i had to explain the whole point of the project to her.
we exchanged numbers after class so that we could talk about when we could meet up to work on it. we only had two weeks to complete it. i knew i had to stand on top of it because i know she won’t.
a few days pass, me and y/n still working on the project together, with us having to meet at lunch. i got to know a little bit more about her. she was pretty cool to talk to. we even started texting without talking about the project itself. so when this is done, it’d be cool to hang with her.
meeting during lunch really wasn’t a good idea. there was too much distractions. so i took the opportunity to invite her over to my place after school. she agreed and i ended up driving her with me once the final bell rang.
End of Matt’s POV
you and Matt were in his room as you sat on the floor. you were reading over some information from the website the teacher recommended and you were feeling overwhelmed. “all of this is hurting my head.” you say laying back on the floor. Matt lets out a small laugh as he responds, “me too. i don’t get how this will be beneficial in the future.” you shot up looking at him, “exactly! school is so bullshit to me. they don’t even teach real world shit.” you say sighing. “i agree. but i didn’t put up with almost 12 years of school just to fail.” he says. you groan, “right. it would be wasteful. i’m pretty sure you don’t have anything to worry about. my grades are literally on the edge of failing.” “well, i could help you.” he suggests. all you do is let out a laugh, “trust me, teaching me is hard.”
“i’ve been teaching you these past days. trust me i know.” Matt responds as you both let out a laugh. “it’s hot in here.” you say taking off your hoodie, pulling down your shirt as it lifted a bit. Matt looks at you as he catches a glimpse of your cleavage. he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. where has all of that been hiding? he wonders. “well let’s continue working on this.” he says trying to move past it. all you do is nod as you lay on your stomach continuously reading.
when you weren’t paying attention, Matt would stare at you slightly. he would stare at the way your tits were pressed against the floor, thinking how perfect they were.
after a few hours, Matt takes you home. “thank you for the ride.” you say smiling, slinging your backpack on one shoulder. “yeah of course” he replies. you open the door stepping out, but as you get up, your hoodie raises slightly revealing your thong peeking out above your jeans slightly. Matt catches a glimpse turning red. you shut the door and walk away. he sits there in his car for a bit as he gulps before driving away.
Matt arrives home tidying his room before going to bed. he picks up one of his notebooks as he sees a sticky note on it reading, ‘thank you for dealing with me as a partner - Y/N’.
he smiles at the note as he puts it down on his bed side table, getting into bed. as he lays there, he couldn’t help but think about what his eyes caught from you earlier. your cleavage and your thong. he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Matt stop that.” he whispers to himself before shutting his eyes going to sleep.
Matt’s dream POV
you and Matt were sitting on your bed working on the project. Matt wasn’t paying attention to you as much and you were bothered by it. you took matters into your hands and you closed the book he was studying. you got on top of him, sitting on his lap as he gets caught off guard. you pull him into a passionate kiss and next thing you knew, you were under the covers tangled together naked.
End of Matt’s dream
Matt’s POV
i woke up sitting up quickly with my breathing uneven. what was that?! my heart was racing. did i just have a wet dream?!
i pulled up the covers to see a wet stain on top of the crotch of my sweats. what the fuck. this has never happened before. with y/n?! why? because of what i saw yesterday? i never even had sex before. how could i have easily dreamed of it? i gulp before getting up. i head to the bathroom to clean myself. i really can’t believe that just happened. now all i could do is replay it in my head. i groan at the thought.
after i got ready, i headed straight to school. on the drive there, i still couldn’t stop replaying everything that happened in my dream. even if i tried to distract myself, it wouldn’t go away. i needed it bad.
End of Matt’s POV
you and Matt were in class as you tried to tell him a story. all he was doing was nodding and staying quiet. “Matt? are you okay?” you question. he shakes his head before speaking, “yeah- yeah i’m good. sorry.” you give him a questionable look as you reply, “well you weren’t really paying attention as i spoke.” you laugh a bit. “oh i was.” he says with a nervous smile. “yeah okay.” you say turning your body straight, pretending to pay attention to the teacher.
Matt does the same as he groans quietly to himself. he didn’t know if he should tell you or not about what he imagined. he decided to shrug it off.
it was the end of the day again as you both end up at Matt’s house. you were standing up as you rehearsed your lines on what to say for the presentation. Matt just sat there looking lost. “Matt seriously what is wrong? i can’t do this without you, you know?” you say frustrated. “i’m sorry. i’ve just been having a hard time.” he responds scratching the back of his neck. “well we really need to focus on this. if you need to get something off your chest, do it now so we can continue.” you say. Matt hesitates before speaking, “okay well i sort of had an odd dream last night.” you look at him confused. “okay?” you reply. “it wasn’t a normal dream.” he continues.
“what? were you like having sex or something?” you ask jokingly with a laugh. but he just sits there staying silent with a blank face. “oh. oh! you did!” you exclaim. “who was it about?” asking with curiosity. “some random girl from class.” he says lying through his teeth. “so what’s the big deal?” you ask. “this your first time having a wet dream?” all he does is nod. you widen your eyes, “really? that’s new. i would’ve thought you were like every other guy constantly thinking about sex.” letting out a laugh. “why is it bothering you so much?”
“because, it’s weird. especially with this specific girl.” he responds. you raise an eyebrow before asking a question, “have you ever had sex before?” the question takes Matt by surprise as he responds quickly, “of course i have!” he lies. you let out a laugh. “okay! sorry! well then you shouldn’t be so weirded out. now come on. lets focus.” replying to him.
it still was eating him in the inside.
*time skip*
after the weeks flew by, you and Matt got an ‘A’ for your presentation. you decided to celebrate by treating Matt with fast food. you both sat on his bed eating. “thank you for being such a good partner.” you say with a smile taking a bite from your burger. “no, thank you.” he replies. you couldn’t help but notice he still was acting strange these past days. “Matt don’t tell me you’re still on about the sex dream.” you ask wiping your hands with a napkin. “you should just shoot your shot already since it’s eating you up. maybe she’ll feel the same.” he shakes his head, “i wouldn’t know how to approach her. plus, that’s weird. i had a sex dream about her and what? i just walk up to her and tell her that? that's creepy.” he replies. you laugh at his response. “well not quite but, i don’t like how you’re acting so off.” you say taking another bite.
Matt sighs as he shakes his head, “just forget it y/n. i’m fine.” you stop in your place as you shake your head. “okay that’s it.” placing the unfinished food on his side table. you wipe your mouth with a napkin as you look at him. it was silent for a bit until you spoke up, “do you want to kiss me?” you blurt out. Matt’s eyes widen. “what?” he asks.
Matt’s POV
i hesitated for a bit. “to help distract you.” she says with a small laugh. "uh- uh yeah sure." I say hesitantly. i mean i couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. i scoot closer to her. i’ve only ever kissed one other person and i don’t think it was good so maybe this will be different. i can hear my heart pounding out of my chest. i put my hand on her cheek as i lean in and kiss her softly. she scoots closer without breaking the kiss, putting her hands on my shoulders.
to her she might think this is just a distraction but, little did she know my dream was about her. we continue to kiss as she swings her leg around to straddle me. i put my hands on her waist as the kisses get heavier. i could feel myself get hard beneath her and i could tell she notices. i pull away from embarrassment, “i’m so sorry.” i say. all she does is smile and respond with, “it’s okay.” pulling me into another kiss. i could feel her start to grind against my clothed dick. i let out a small groan from the feeling. i pull away as i lay her down gently. “d-do you want to do this?” i say nervously but, i couldn’t expose the fact this would be my first. she nods as she kisses me again. she takes off my shirt as i do the same for her. i unbutton my jeans and pull them off leaving me in my boxers as she does the same with her pants leaving her in her under garments. i gulp looking at her body. come on Matt play it cool. we kiss again as she rubs my dick through my boxers. i really hope i’m big enough.
i reach into my drawer as i pull out a condom. i bought a box just in case i were to lose it. which i am now, so it was good preparation. i open rip off the deal as i look at her. “uh.. i haven’t done this in a while so.. i might not be as good.” i warn her lying. i’ve never done this at all. i had to prepare her just in case i cum quick. “it’ll be good” she reassures me. she takes the condom from my hand as i take off my boxers slowly. i see her eyes widen a bit as she slowly wraps the condom on my dick. i lay her back down, sliding her panties to the side, and align myself at her entrance. she gives me a smile as i look down at what i’m about to do. i push myself into her slowly as i watch her relax.
i hear her moan softly as i continue to push my full length into her. “shit.” i groan quietly. i watch her face as i start to thrust slowly. she shut her eyes as she bites her lip softly. i can’t believe this is happening. my dream finally coming true. i pick up the pace as i put both my hands on her sides. “yes just like that.” she moans out putting her hands on my chest. i kiss her as i continue to go deeper into her keeping my fast tempo.
“fuck Matt you feel so good.” she moans. every time she spoke i felt my dick twitch. her moans were heavenly. “you’re so perfect.” i whisper to her. i lay myself on her slightly as she scratches my back. her scratches were hard as i feel the slight sting.
all my worries disappear once i find out i’m actually doing a good job. she made me feel a bit more confident. as soon as i was about to cum i pull out because i wanted to keep pleasing her. i pull her by her thighs as i put my head in between her legs. i start licking at her folds softly as she lets out a breath. i then start sliding my tongue up and down, swirling my tongue on her clit. i felt her grip my hair lightly. “oh Matt.” she moans. “you taste so good.” i say continuing to eat her out. “Matt i’m going to cum.” she says as i start to suck on her clit. she throws her head back as she arches her back, shoving her pussy more into my face. “yes Matt just like that!” she screams out as she cums all over my mouth.
i get back up as i lick my lips, realigning myself as i thrust back into her sensitive core. she gasps as she grips onto my arms. i thrust at a fast pace before cumming inside her into the condom. “oh fuck.” i moan out.
we were both catching our breath as i pull out of her. i take off the condom and throw it in the trash. "you must be a pro or something. that was incredible.” she says sitting up putting her clothes on.
good to know. little did she know, i ain't ever did this before.
a/n: not my best work lol. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you :) - L 🤍
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets imagines#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#Spotify
298 notes
·
View notes
Text
Off to the races | CS55 x Reader
Summary - When your father sold you off into a loveless marriage with a feared mafia boss, you knew it wouldn’t end well, the two of you hardly ever speaking, but one night when your husband promises he’ll start doing better, you cousins help but believe him.
Warnings - swearing, whatever you’d expect from a Mafia story really
Requested - No - Yes
Type - Written
Not been proofread
You knew from the money that your father told you about the little arrangement he had made with Carlos Sainz, the most feared man in all of Spain, that you’d be unhappy as the result of it. You’re whole life you’d grown up lacking the luxury of having a lot of money, but you had a loving family that were worth everything to you, so you was content, but apparently your father didn’t feel the same.
He done something stupid. Something so incredibly stupid and wrong, he borrowed money from Carlos Sainz, money he knew for a fact that he would never be able to able to repay, so when the man showed up at your family’s home, a gun pointed at your fathers head unless he could offer up some kind of repayment, your father offered you up to the man without a moment of hesitation.
Carlos’ men came and hit you the next day, no matter how much you screamed and begged your mother and father to make them not take you, to let you stay at home with your family, they didn’t listen and you was taken away and married off to Carlos at the next available date.
He didn’t love you, he didn’t care for you, he needed you for one thing and one thing only, an heir. One to take over for him when he wouldn’t work anymore, to keep his family name leading the mafia past his lifetime, that’s all.
You didn’t have fun at the wedding, you never had fun, you woke up, had breakfast, wandered around the halls of your home, and went to bed, you hardly ever saw Carlos, it was rare he even came home at night.
You sighed, flopping onto your back as the moonlight shone through the crack in the curtains, yet another night that sleep seemed like something far out of reach, another night where Carlos wasn’t home and he was out doing god knows what.
You could never sleep alone, back at home you shared a room with your younger sister, your whole life you’d never have to stay in a room all alone, it was too quiet and empty.
“Fuck this.” You muttered as you threw the blanket off of your legs and slipped some shoes and a robe on as you walked out of your bedroom, the two guard that were always near you following a few steps behind, another annoying habit of your husband, having guards follow and track your every move.
You went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, something your other used to do when you was a child and couldn’t sleep, and went to go sit on the back porch of your house, looking out onto the anchors of land that she now partly owned.
You groaned as you heard the door click open from behind you, “Mr.Jackson, I appreciate that you’re just going your job, but it’s a glass door, can’t you just look at me through it instead? It’s bad enough you’re always two feet behind me. No offence.”
“Is that how you talk to all my staff?” You instantly sat up straighter when you heard your husband’s voice instead of the British accent of your assigned bodyguard, you cleared your throat, “Sorry Mr.Sainz, I didn’t know it was you.” You whispered, your eyes still stuck on the land before you.
“No need to be so formal, cariño,” he said as he sat on the seat beside yours, “we are married after all.”
You scoffed and rolled his eyes at his words and muttered a quiet “Barley.” But he still heard you and turned his stare towards you, “and by that you mean?”
You rolled your eyes once again, “I see you four times a month if I’m lucky, Carlos. You’ve never wished me a happy birthday in two years of marriage. You see me as the key to continuing your family name. Nothing more.”
He didn’t know what to say, he was angry, not at you. At himself for letting you ever think the words leaving your mouth were true, “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way cariño.”
You shrugged and took a sip of your tea, the warm liquid gliding down your throat, “Don’t be. Our marriage is and always has been a business proposition, nothing more.”
He wanted to say so many things in that moment, how he picked you because from the moment he saw you, your enchanting eyes and sweet as honey laugh, he fell. He could get any woman from anywhere to continue his family’s legacy, but he chose you.
“Trust me, cariño,” he whispered as he moved from his seat and got on his knees in front of you, confusing you greatly as he took the warm mug from your hand and placed it in the ground, “you’re much more than a part of a business deal to me.” He whispered and he placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I’ll do better by you, you’re my wife, my main priority,” he whispered, this side of him was new, so new you was scared to say that you liked it, “tell me what I can do to start making it better.”
You swallowed lightly, having no idea where this Carlos was coming from, “You can actually spend the night with me tonight.” Yous aid in a quite whisper, but he had no protest, he just nodded with a smile as he stood and picked you up, a,ing you help in surprise as your legs wrapped round his waist on instinct.
He carried you to your shared bedroom and placed you down into the bed and he went to change, when he tenured you was asleep against the soft pillows, the tea having worked its magic and your exhaustion catching up to you, he smiled down at your body as he got in bed careful besides your sleeping frame and pulled you into him, he was going to do better. He was going to be better, for you. He was.
—————
#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x oc#cs55 x reader#cs55 imagine#cs55 fluff#cs55 fic#cs55 smau#cs55 x you#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x oc#f1 x female driver#f1 x the internet#f1 x female oc#formula 1 x reader#ln4 one shot#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#lando norris x you#mafia!f1#mafia fanfic
291 notes
·
View notes
Note
Imagine reader having a threesome with mean Arlecchino and Signora (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
I’m going so crazy!! And the way their boss forms match too is so 🥹
Could I be 🪼 Anon ? ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖆 + 𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖔 + 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
dom!signora and arlecchino x sub!fem reader
warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, threesome, mean doms, rough sex, spanking, spitting, bondage, cunnilingus, fingering, choking
"what a pathetic little thing." signora mused, eyeing you from where you sat atop her lap. they had dressed you up in a pretty lingerie set, fabrics of red, black, and gray made to emulate their more regal attire.
"very." arlecchino comments, tugging your jaw to make you tilt your head back to look her in the eyes. her hands are rough, nails scraping your skin as she stares down at you.
she pushes you forward into signora, tugging your hips up to perk your ass in the air. she rips your panties right off, tossing the scraps aside as she spreads you wide. "you're practically dripping. have you no shame?" arlecchino asks.
signora laughs, pulling your chin up to look at her. "she asked you a question, answer her." she snaps.
"no, no shame- i don't-" you babble and arlecchino slaps your ass, enjoying the way you jump and fall into signora's lap.
you endure a few more smacks on your skin, signora lifting your head to bring you up for a heated kiss after. she pulls away for what you think would be a break, only to force your lips open, dripping spit onto your tongue, shutting your jaw and forcing you to swallow.
"at least she knows her place." signora hums, stroking your cheek. "mmm, our knave here has had such a long week. why don't you help her relax a little, okay, pretty girl?" signora mumbles into your ear, more of an order than a suggestion.
you dumbly nod, watching arlecchino sit by the headboard, spreading her thighs for you to crawl over like the good puppy you are for them.
signora tugs the straps of your lingerie off first, leaving you completely bare except for the collar and thigh highs that remain.
arlecchino unbuckles her belt, sliding her pants down to reveal her pussy to you as you crawl closer, leaning your chin on her thigh so cutely. you place little kisses up her milky skin before her clawed hands grip your head firmly, yanking you up against her, slick smearing over your skin.
"get on with it." she barks, and you oblige, hurrying to lap at her clit and make her feel good. signora watches you, the messy way you try so desperately to please her fellow harbinger. it excites her.
you excite her.
arlecchino uses your mouth as her toy, grinding firmly onto your tongue, her hand on your head a silent warning to stay put for her. she can feel you whimpering into her pussy, her head falling back with a soft grunt.
before she can cum, she pulls you away, eyeing the wetness across your lips. "what a filthy little mess you are." she wipes her own fluid off your face, turning you around to sit on her lap while signora approaches.
she ties your hands behind your back, resting on arlecchino's clothed abs as she spreads your thighs wide for both of them. signora slides her fingers over your cunt, two blunt nails cut just for you as they slide into your fluttering hole.
she curls them expertly, and your head would've fallen against arlecchino's shoulder had she not gripped your throat, forcing you back up. she squeezes the sides, hearing your muted gasp. "don't let me catch your eyes closed again." she snaps, making you watch signora finger you harder.
her thumb is on your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave you writhing, mixed with arlecchino's hand on your throat, and signora's fingers rubbing your g-spot.
it's all too much, and you start to sob, begging for no more and much more all at once until you finally squirt for them.
such a filthy little toy you are. what a mess you've made. you've soiled the bed, their clothes, dirtied their skin.
but, oh, how you have these harbingers wrapped around your finger without even realizing it ♡
an for anon: hello ♡ welcome!! sorry this took me so long to get to!! i wanted to try and make a bit of a longer fic <3
#🪼─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯˚ૢ⋆#💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader smut#fem reader#genshin wlw#signora smut#la signora smut#arlecchino x reader#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino#arlecchino art#la signora x reader
273 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Family Business Ch. 10
WandaNat x Reader
Word count: 3.4k
Ch.Notes: no notes this ch
Summary: Natasha and Wanda have a talk about their feelings for you. After that emotional conversation they meet you at the hospital to visit Dragos.
An: If I were to say things get more real next chapter how would you feel...
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
The rest of the work day drags for Natasha and Wanda. Both women having other things on their mind. However, with Kate and Y/n out of the office on a hectic day like this, they couldn’t afford to dwell too much.
“Sestra, can we call it a day? I've never taken this many calls in my life,” Pietro barges into his sisters office.
“If you want to go home, then go,” she waves her hand dismissively at him.
“What’s got you so snappy?”
When Wanda’s eyes meet Pietro she’s glaring at him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m trying to run the company our father built on my own.”
Pietro raises his brow, “On your own? Discrediting my work is normal for you, but to act as if Y/n wasn’t running this place last night is bullshit.”
“Well she’s not here now,” Wanda mumbles under her breath.
“Why? Where is she?”
Wanda can’t hide the small clench in her jaw, “Kate took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“She’s in good hands sestra if that’s what's worrying you,” Pietro tries to console her.
Wanda doesn’t want to speak about it any further, “I’m going to see papa whenever I’m done with this do you want to come?”
The way that Pietro's goofy features turn serious never cease to amaze Wanda, “I can’t tonight, I have a date.”
Wanda rolls her eye, “You’d rather get laid than see our father?”
Pietro shakes his head, “No, but this isn’t just some girl. I want this to be serious and I can’t afford to stand her up.”
The red head is slightly surprised, but she nods along, “I’ll tell him about it, I bet he’d be glad to hear you taking something seriously for once.”
He chuckles a bit before going quiet. He looks at Wanda similar to the way a needy child looks at their parent.
“Do you think he’ll wake up?”
“He has too,” the words are heavy as they leave her lips. She has a small smile placed on her face as she continues, “Mama will kill him if he doesn't.”
“Don’t work too hard sestra,” he speaks sincerely taking his leave.
“Enjoy your date,” Wanda says as he walks out of the door.
When he leaves she lets out a heavy sigh. For the first time today she lays her head down on her desk, exhaustion starting to plague her.
Thoughts of her responsibilities as the person in charge rain down on her. This was the end goal that she wanted, but never at this great of cost. She wished her father would wake up and reclaim his place because she didn’t feel ready.
She was focusing as hard as she could, but her mind always strays to her brother’s best friend. Your delicate skin pressing against hers in the morning or the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, or those doe eyes that she could sense staring at her.
Wanda debates for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and dialing the girl. It rings for a while before there's finally an answer.
“Hello.”
“Hey, little krolik. I just wanted to check on you. Nat told me you went home today,” Wanda keeps her tone level.
You sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m ok. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m sorry for stepping out, I know that's not how we do business.”
“It’s no different than me leaving yesterday. This line of work takes a toll on you.”
She can’t see it, but you nod, “I’m feeling better now. I still want to go see pa- Dragos. Maybe I could have Kate drop me off and I’ll meet you two there?”
“You’re with Kate?” Wanda can’t stop herself from asking the question.
“Yeah she took me home and decided to keep me company,” you say nonchalantly.
“I could’ve taken you,” Wanda tries to play it cool.
You disagree with her, “I didn't want to bother you while you were working. It was a hectic day, truth be told I didn't even want to leave.”
Wanda’s tone is strong as she speaks, “I will never be too busy for you Y/n.”
“Wanda-”
“I mean it. I know I’m supposed to move past it, but I missed a lot while I was gone. I couldn’t be there for you like I wanted to. Now that I’m back I’d like to be there for you as much as I can. I still want to be the one you lean on,” Wanda let herself be vulnerable with you.
You were taken aback by her admission. It felt like it was impossible for you to come up with a response. It wasn’t like she was saying something you hadn't heard from her before, but her words felt heavier somehow.
“I know you'll be there for me, Wanda . You don't have to prove it.”
Wanda frowns lightly, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just- it’s hard knowing I’m not the first person you come to when you’re in need. I know you've grown out of needing people for the most part, but I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. Nat and I will meet you at the hospital.”
Wanda doesn't give you a chance to respond as she hangs up the phone. She scolds herself about how needy she sounded during the call.
“I think I’m finished up for today, whenever you’re ready to go,” Natasha strolls into the office.
Wanda stares at the computer screen for a moment, “I should be ready in half an hour.”
Natasha plops down on the couch of her wife’s office. It’s silent for a moment until Nat shifts on the couch which makes noise fill the office.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
“ About what?” Wanda keeps her attention on the screen.
“What I said about being jealous of Kate?”
Wanda’s brow furrows, “Not particularly.”
Natasha strides over to the woman’s desk chair and places herself in Wanda’s lap. Wanda’s arms loop around the woman’s waist holding her in place.
“We need to talk about this moya lyubov,” the spy places gentle kisses on the base of Wanda’s neck.
The other woman whines, “Why?”
“Because we’re married and you’re in love with Y/n,” Natasha states plainly.
Wanda rolls her eyes, “You were jealous too.”
Natasha nods, “I was and I don’t have a problem admitting it.”
Wanda’s face buries itself in the crook of Natasha’s neck, “So what does this all mean?”
“I like her too,” Natasha states bluntly.
“ I don’t want to lose you,” Wanda’s voice is small as she speaks to her wife.
Natasha softly places her hand on Wanda’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You will never lose me Wanda. I married you because I’m completely, utterly, madly in love with you. That feeling hasn’t gone anywhere.”
“I love you too,” Wanda’s eyes shine as they bore into Natasha’s.
“ I think we should think about what it would be like to add Y/n into our relationship dynamic,” Natasha speaks, but it sounds like a question.
Wanda tenses briefly, “I can admit that I have feelings for Y/n, but I don’t know if I can act on these feelings Nat.”
“Why not?”
Wanda closes her eyes, “I’ve known her too long, Nat. She’s the same age as my little brother, not to mention she's his best friend. If she doesn’t feel the same way, this will ruin everything.”
“Detka-”
“I don’t know if it’s better or worst that we both want her. How would we even tell her Natasha? I don’t want to lose anymore time with her,” Wanda begins to get emotional.
Natasha cups her wife’s face in both of her hands, “Baby, I know you’re scared. This is scary, I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that you love her and I think I could too. We’ve spent so much of our lives sacrificing for others, but I’m ready to sacrifice something for my own sake, aren’t you?”
“I am, but not at the expense of my relationship Y/n. I just got her back, Natasha. I’m not saying I never want to tell her, but I can’t do this now,” Wanda tries to turn her head away from her wife.
Natasha doesn’t let her, but instead places a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. Wanda relaxes under Natasha’s touch, feeling all of the stress of the day seeping out of her body.
“ Don’t hide from me, Wanda. I want you to share your feelings, I won’t ever judge you,” Natasha whispers against the taller woman’s lips.
“I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you’re ready but-”
Natasha shakes her head, “It’s not just about me, it’s about us. I don’t want to push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. If you want to pursue Y/n, I’m with you, but if you don’t, I'm still with you.”
Wanda nods softly, “I want to, but I- I need time.”
Natasha kisses her again, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Now finish up so we can go.”
“You’re not going to move?” Wanda questions her wife.
Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh, “ You can’t work around me?”
Wanda scoots herself into the desk. She slightly pushes Natasha to press into her further. The spy’s head is in the nape of Wanda’s neck.
“I can and if I’m being honest it’s my preferred method of doing work,” Wanda begins to focus on the computer again.
She works diligently with her wife in her lap. Having Natasha there makes her work go by a little faster and feel a lot less stressful. She finishes up within the hour.
Once she’s done Wanda shoots a text to Y/n saying that they were headed to the hospital. The girl replies saying she’ll meet them there.
Natasha drives, one hand on the wheel and the other holds Wanda’s hand. Her thumb caresses the back of the passengers hand trying to provide comfort, knowing that this was not an easy task for her.
Wanda had only visited her father once. She hated seeing him in such a fragile state. It almost didn't feel like he was her father. He couldn’t be the same man that took her to the city fair, the same mam that placed flowers in her hair, the man that invested his entire life in her dreams, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t the man that kept her safe from her nightmares, because looking at him in this state was beginning to feel like one.
When they arrived they went inside the building.
“If you don’t tell me what room he is in you won't live to the end of the week to regret it,” you argue with the receptionist.
Kate’s behind you her hand resting on your shoulder trying to pull you out of the conflict.
“It’s family only mam, one more outburst and I will have security throw you out,” the receptionist said causing a vein to pop in your neck.
“Is there a problem here?” Natasha speaks up first.
“Nothing that concerns you,” the receptionist snaps at the spy.
You interrupt, “You don't talk to her like that.”
Before things escalate any further Wanda slams her hand on the receptionist’s desk with her card under her palm.
“Now tell me what room my father is in, “ Wanda’s eyes look fiery as she stared at the receptionist.
The receptionist looks at the card bestie her eyes go wide, “Terribly sorry for the mix up Mrs. Maximoff, didn’t know she was in your company.”
Wanda peers down at the receptionist, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I don't ever want to hear you address either of these ladies in a disrespectful manner again.”
“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff sorry about that. It won’t happen again. He’s in room 286,” the receptionist looked ten sizes smaller.
You can’t help but give the woman a death glare as you head towards the elevator. Kate stops you on the way.
“I’m going to head home are you going to be alright?” Her eyes subtly glance in Wanda and Natasha’s direction.
“I’ll be fine Katie,” you reassure her.
“Ok just checking. Text me later and make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Kate pulls you into a tight hug.
The sound of someone clearing their throat ends your hug with the doe eyed girl. Kate smiles at you upon the release of the hug, she then waves goodbye, leaving you with the married couple.
“And you’re sure you and Kate aren’t dating?” Wanda can’t help, but comment.
You roll your eyes, “Positive, Katie and I are just friends.”
“What did you do after you left work ?”
You all pile into the elevator as you answer, “Nothing really. We just watched some tv and ordered some food. How was it at the office?”
Wanda goes to answer but Natasha stops her, “No work talk out of the office.”
“Well then what are we going to talk to Dragos about?” You attempt to joke in hopes of brightening the mood.
“ You can call him Papa you know?” Wanda takes her time looking at you.
“I know-”
She cuts you off, “Mama too.”
You nod to yourself, “I know, it’s just not my normal.”
Natasha speaks up, “It honestly feels like you’re fighting against their names when you say them. Mama and Papa sound natural coming from you."
“It feels like they are my parents.”
“They are,” Wanda grabs onto your hand as you approach Dragos’ room.
The air feels different when you enter the room. It’s hard to look at him in such a state. He lies still on the hospital bed with machinery hooked up to him. There are less machines than originally, but still too many in your eyes.
Flora sits by the side of the bed with her hand in his. The view is somber, it takes nearly everything in you not to cry. Almost as if she can sense the tension building in your body, Wanda squeezes your hand.
“How’s he been Mama?” Wanda’s moved closer to her mother’s side, dragging you with her.
“The same, but the doctors are saying that's a good thing for now at least,” she sighs heavily.
“And how are you Mama?” You ask looking over the woman’s features.
Flora sends you a small smile, “I’m tired sweetheart, but I’ll live.”
“Have you been going home?” Wanda questions further.
“To shower and change clothes.”
Wanda’s voice takes a stern tone, “Mama, you need to rest.”
The older woman shakes her head, “I can't leave him for too long.”
“He wouldn’t want you spending all your time here,” you say softly.
“It’s not about what he wants for once. If he didn’t want me here he would’ve listened when I told him going to meet Fisk alone was a bad idea,” she glares at her sleeping husband.
“I’ll have his head for this,” Wanda gets agitated at the mention of Kingpin.
“Blowing up the ports wasn’t enough?” Flora comments.
“Power move, just to prove that there are no cracks in our business affairs,” Wanda’s jaw sets.
Flora looks at her daughter, “He’s not going to take this lying down.”
“I know.”
You squeeze Wanda’s hand to reassure her, “ We’ll be ready for him."
Flora lets out a sad laughter, “You sound just like him Y/n.”
“ That’s a compliment for the ages. I hope I could be half of the person he is,” your gaze falls into your lap.
“You already are. You kids have always made us both so proud.”
You desperately want to ask more about Dragos’ condition, but you refrain. The conversation stays light as you reminisce about the man.
Natasha doesn't say much, but her presence does provide someone to share with. She's hearing most things about her father-in-law for the first time. She's getting a good look into the man he is.
She pays attention to the way you and Wanda both light up when sharing stories. It warms her heart to see the two of you looking genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.
When it’s time to go the mood drops a bit, but not too much. It’s when Natasha goes to follow Wanda and Y/n out of the room when Flora stops her.
“You make sure they're taking care of themselves,” Flora hugs the redhead and whispers in her ear.
Natasha nods, “I will Mrs.Maximoff.”
They head home after that, exhaustion finally catching up to them.
A small dilemma plagues your mind when you get home. Part of you wishes to go with Wanda and Natasha into their apartment where you know you can get a good night's rest. The other part of you tells you that you shouldn't make it a habit. It's a lose-lose situation.
Begrudgingly you decide to go to your own apartment.
“I’ll see you guys later,” you try and give a small goodbye.
Wanda grabs your forearm, “You can come over tonight, if you need to. No matter the time. Alright, little krolik?”
Your eyes shift over to Natasha who smile, showing agreement with her wife, “The door is always open for you.”
You struggle to keep your composure, “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”
Your house feels extra empty as you enter. The weight of the day sets into your system. Getting ready for bed seems pointless as you know you won’t be getting any sleep.
Staring at the ceiling seems different, knowing that across the hall was the woman that you had spent your teen years pining over. Yet, knowing that she could love you didn’t make your heart flutter like it was supposed to. It sent an anxiety running through your chest.
You knew that she was probably curled up in the bed next to her wife. Her drop dead gorgeous, kind hearted, Russian spy, wife. A woman in a league of her own, in her own right.
The thought didn’t make you jealous, but it had an adverse effect on you. You wanted to be there, to be involved, to be a part of what they had.
You groan placing a pillow over your head in a dull effort to quiet your thoughts.
Your phone rings on the dresser and you pick it up, and mumble a hello with the pillow still over your head.
“Come over.”
“Natasha?”
There’s a hum over the line, “Yes, are you coming or do I need to come get you?”
You shuffle out of the bed, keeping the phone to your ear, “Is something wrong?”
“Well-"
She’s cut off by her wife, “Come to bed little krolik. I need the extra warmth.”
Natasha chuckles, “Wanda refuses to sleep in your absence. She’s getting a little grumpy.”
“ I’m not grumpy. Tell her to hurry,” Wanda argues with Natasha.
This makes your heart flutter like it’s supposed to, “Are you sure it’s ok Nat?”
“ Lisichka I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you back in our bed.”
You feel a blush take over your features as you exit your home.
“ Ok, open the door,” you murmur and it takes no time for the spy to let you into her home.
Natasha looks exhausted as she grabs you by the arm and drags you wordlessly to the bedroom.
Wanda’s already in the bed and when she sees you she does a grabbing motion towards you. You shake your head before climbing into the bed. She wraps her arm around your waist and snuggles closer to you.
“You sleep here now. It’s better for all of us,” She mumbles against your skin.
“Ok,” you don’t fight her on it, knowing she’d probably forget in the morning.
You look up at Natasha shyly. She still stands over the bed. In a similar fashion to Wanda, you stick out your arms for her.
Natasha grins as she climbs into your arms. You carefully drape your arm over the spy, resting your hand against her flat stomach.
For the second night in a row you find yourself comfortable in their bed. You all think about how you shouldn’t indulge in this feeling, scared it won’t last.
It’s like the couple can read your mind. Wanda’s hold on you tightens and Natasha turns to face you. They keep you safe in their embrace and the thoughts in your head quiet.
No one says anything, but you all feel it. There’s a shift in your relationship and you won’t be able to ignore it for much longer.
Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader
#lowkeyerror#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wandanat x reader#wandanat#kate bishop#pietro maximoff
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
separate lines
words: 600 (+ three images)
warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy
“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”
“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.
“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.
“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-
“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”
you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.
you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.
“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”
“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.
“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”
“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”
“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.
“y/n!” wheezie squeals.
“wheezie, my girl!”
--
--
“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.
“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.
“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.
“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”
rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.
“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.
“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.
“love you more.”
--
--
“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to.
most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.
“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”
“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.
“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”
“baby, ill stay on all night.”
--
sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie
#i forgot to change the times for the texts so just pretend reader scrolled back and screenshoted them all at the same time thanks!#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fluff#obx fic#outer banks fic#obx fanfic#outer banks fanfic#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x reader#rafe x oc#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe imagine#rafe blurb#rafe drabble#rafe one shot#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron imagine
291 notes
·
View notes
Text
Episode 10: The Couch
Wow @lurkingshan, it’s like you really know me! This scene is exactly what I was going to talk about for Episode 10 because the fucking TENSION put so much weight in to the air when I was watching that I could hardly breathe.
CHRIS CHIU
THE ACTOR THAT YOU ARE
Scene Breakdown time!
First of all, I love the little couple dynamic moments we get between Lili and San Pang, where Lili has to tap San Pang in to Yuan and Qian’s fight. San Pang arrives and in a very strategic move informed by knowing Qian and Yuan for a significant amount of their lives, he arrives with food he knows will go over well with Qian and will test Yuan’s ears (he comes down the stairs from his room to throw the food away after all).
Which, let’s just acknowledge that when Yuan comes downstairs and takes all the alcohol and greasy food away, the moment Yuan approaches the coffee table, Qian looks back towards the TV screen pretending he is disinterested in the situation at hand. But his eyes give him away because he keeps glancing at Yuan when he thinks he can steal a second. And stealing is what he is trying to do because he keeps his head pointed directly towards the television, while looking for half a second at Yuan out of the corner of his eye when Yuan leans over to collect the food. After that moment, Qian does not look towards Yuan again until Yuan has turned around and Qian can stare at his back.
It must be said. Chris is a phenomenal actor, because even without seeing his face, just the top of his head, you can kind of tell the mood that Qian is in as Yuan walks away, because he turns towards Yuan. We see Yuan look in Qian’s direction, Qian moves his head further back to look at San Pang, then looks away shaking his head. I acknowledge I’m probably reading too much in to it, but I can feel the incredulity radiating off of that head shake.
Yuan heads up the stairs, and Qian looks towards the staircase only after Yuan has disappeared. His head movement is so much more obvious than his previous motions that it literally looks like Qian is breaking character, or like he was previously frozen and had only now been allowed to breathe. Qian’s eyes look up towards the staircase (towards Yuan’s absence), then downward as he thinks about his next move, then back towards San Pang, then down once more as he makes a decision about whether or not he wants to Start The Conversation.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul (my savior)
Qian here is trying to check that Yuan is out of earshot because he Will Not have the The Conversation about His Feelings if there is a chance that Yuan will know about it.
With the heaviest of sighs, Qian gives San Pang an opening: “Did you buy those for me, or for him to throw away?” Qian asks, and once again looks out of the corner of his eye, getting serious “Or for him to throw away?”
And there is no doubt in my mind that it is the latter. San Pang bringing food that would trigger Yuan’s care instincts towards Qian, cause Yuan to intervene, and San Pang to bear witness to the tense and angry energy from Yuan towards Qian and force the issue. I think it’s partially why Qian does not deliberate for long in starting the conversation despite his hesitancy.
San Pang scoffs and says in response “He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care about you. Xiao Yuan can’t bear to leave you alone.” holds up the salad as a physical example of the care that Yuan has for Qian.
gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Qian gives another giant exhale and looks contemplative. Something that I do find really important in good acting is the use of internal monologue. Qian always has something on his mind that he is sitting with. And the benefit of a scene like this is that the production team, and the camera trust the strength of their actors to hold the silence that settles over the room as Chris runs the gambit of Qian’s internal thoughts.
Qian is well and truly sitting with the acknowledgement of Yuan’s feelings from San Pang. Maybe I am wrong because I am not an actor, but I do not have the kind of intentional and conscious control over my face to have the kinds of lip twitches that Chris has when Qian is thinking about Yuan’s care for him. They may have twenty seconds of silence on screen, but that does not mean the scene isn’t still in motion. There are so many little things happening in the span between San Pang’s comment about Yuan and his next reflection on sending Yuan away.
“Xiao Yuan can’t bear to leave you alone,” Qian turns that over in his mind, to me it’s like he’s feeling the weight of it on his tongue, in his body. Qian looks up, and then around, and tosses the remote to the side, breathes heavily again. That feels like a begrudging acceptance of the statement. At the very least it is permission from Qian to proceed with the difficult conversation.
“Before I had Yuan leave the country, I had been thinking I was doing the right thing for you two. But seriously, be honest, did you feel empty when Yuan was away?”
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Qian blinks twice and we cut to a flashback of a lovely little isolated frame of Qian feeling Yuan’s absence. We cut back to a close up of Qian’s face and his lip twitches. Which I love because it feels like an involuntary admission. We know Qian, we know that boy is stubborn and stoic, that he muscles through all the pain, that he does not let many people see his weaknesses. San Pang asks Qian if he felt empty and Qian does. not. move. He holds exactly the same position, lounging on the couch with his hand behind his head like he is unmoved, unaffected by San Pang’s question. But that little twitch of his lip gives him away. San Pang has struck a nerve. San Pang has forced Qian to hold a spotlight to the feelings he’s been trying to numb for the last four years.
“Let me tell you something. When Lili and I first got together,”
I don’t know about anyone else, but I snorted at the way Qian turned his head to look at San Pang in warning. We still have not seen Qian approve of that relationship. And San Pang knows that he’s staring at the precipice of some truly hot water, which is why he follows up with a “hear me out.”
Qian relaxes and once again turns to look away from San Pang. From San Pang’s position very little of Qian’s face is visible. So Qian keeps holding a position that will give San Pang as little of a chance of reading him as possible.
“I’ve struggled too. I…I always wondered what happiness could I bring her? Was I doing the right thing? How could I face you? And then…I felt it wasn’t right. Life is too short.”
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Again, I just have to say. CHRIS CHIU IS A PHENOMENAL ACTOR. He does not move a muscle, but you know Qian is locked in on what San Pang is saying because of how he moves his eyes. When San Pang says “life is too short” you can actually see the moment where Qian starts paying more attention to San Pang’s words, because he looks away from the TV and more downward in thought.
“Getting hung up over it for years, would it be worth all the lost time?”
Chris changes how he breathes here. You can see Qian take in a deep breath, but he holds it for a few seconds, he lets his nostrils flare, and then you see a large release of breath in the movement of Qian’s chest. This is really really getting to Qian. That nostril flare was not because he was breathing in. Because he’d already taken a breath. It was not because he was breathing out, because we see that happen a few seconds after the nostril flare, without his nose moving again. When Qian flares his nostrils, he is holding his breath, for a rather noticeable amount of time too.
I love Chris because he embodies Qian so well, I can almost feel the way Qian is feeling internally in all the subtle little ways Chris plays with how Qian holds and releases tension and attention.
“Who’s been good to me?”
Qian blinks twice, letting the question hit him, and only then does he finally release his breath.
“Who put me before themselves?”
San Pang looks at Qian after he finishes asking these hypothetical questions. But Qian is still looking ahead towards the TV, trying to come across as disengaged in the conversation as possible. And San Pang notices that, and that is why he continues to talk. Because Qian is hearing him, he’s listening and processing, but he isn’t engaged. He hasn’t put his body in to the conversation yet, he hasn’t responded to anything that San Pang has said to him. So San Pang keeps pushing.
“A lot of things are only between you and Yuan. Unless you really have something against being with a guy, Yuan’s the only one who will be by your side, no matter what. Are you really not going to confront it?”
And I love that we pull away from that question to Qian looking like he is lying in a therapist’s chair. And Qian holds that position he has been maintaining throughout the conversation for a few seconds longer. The number of times he blinks the only indication that what San Pang has said is getting through and that Qian is mulling it all over.
And only then, after San Pang has said all these things about Qian and Yuan’s relationship, in a way that is not judgemental or against the idea of these brothers becoming romantically involved. Only after San Pang has said that Yuan would be by Qian’s side no matter what does Qian set his jaw and push himself up in to a sitting position to continue the conversation.
San Pang does not know what happened at Le’s gang beyond them being beaten up. So while it is highly likely that he is aware saying that Yuan would follow Qian anywhere is opening a can of worms, he does not understand how much ammunition he has just given Qian to talk about the danger that loving him too deeply has put Yuan in.
We do not give enough credit to film actors for maintaining continuity across scenes, because this man sits up and the first thing Chris has Qian do is massage the back of his head, where the pain of his blood clot sits. I could probably sit here all day trying to talk about all the little facial expressions he does as Qian sits up and starts preparing himself to be vulnerable with San Pang. But we can leave it as merely that. Qian is getting ready to talk to San Pang about some deeply personal stuff.
Personal stuff that Qian usually does not typically get in to. Like, San Pang says he knows what Qian went through, but I do not think he does. I do not think Qian has told him about the sexual assault, or San Pang would not have been trying to throw women at Qian.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
“San Pang.” He pauses, and you can see the way he is still noodling, thinking about whether or not he wants to talk to San Pang about all this. And notably, he does not meet San Pang’s eye when he begins “Do you know…” Qian looks to the side, he frowns a little bit, he taps the palm of his hand against the top of the couch arm. It feels so childish and small of him in a way that really struck me. Qian is nervous, he is redirecting that energy in to his motions. In to the tapping, in to looking away, in to not having to reveal deep personal truths sitting that close to another soul. “Do you know what my biggest wish in life is? My biggest wish in life is for them to be happy,”
Ohhhhhh how that breaks my heart. Qian has suffered so much, he has done so much, he has survived so much. If you were to ask me, I would bet that Qian has never been happy. He was forced at a very young age to take over the role of caregiver. He is both a brother and a father to Yuan and to Lili. And it is a testament to Qian’s love for his family, and the pain he is willing to put himself through that Lili is so bright and vibrant and naive about some of the workings of the world. I believe that Lili is happy. I believe that Qian has succeeded in at least that much. But that is not something he has had a chance to do. “Even if the world comes down, I’ll hold it up.” I have not forgotten that line from last episode. Qian would hold the world together if it meant ensuring his sister’s happiness.
I do not know what it is, but there is something in the way Chris moves his mouth after he says “My biggest wish in life is for them to be happy,” that just absolutely destroys me, because he makes himself look like this is such a huge confession.
“Mine is the same.”
gif from @wanderlust-in-my-soul
“I just want them to grow up healthy and happy, because I’m their big brother.” Qian’s words become so breathy and he’s jabbing his finger straight in to the arm of the couch to drive home his point. These are the words that matter, this is the wish that matters. Qian’s feelings, Qian’s happiness have nothing to do with it. If he’s empty so be it, as long as his siblings are happy and healthy he will wound himself a thousand times over. His fucking face here, once again is just…When Qian takes in a breath, it is shaky. You can tell by the movement of his jaw, which looks like it is moving from side to side a little bit. As he approaches the end of his sentence, it feels like he is trying not to cry.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Yuan’s life might be summed up in two words: Wei Qian
But Wei Qian’s life is summed up in five:
Because I’m their big brother.
“We grew up together. You think I don’t know how hard life’s been on you? But you know that Yuan’s feelings for you are different.”
Qian looks away incredulously, and there is something else there too, I think. Something in the way that Qian’s eyebrows furrow, the way his mouth hangs open, the way he breathes out. I don’t know that he can really believe that this conversation is happening right now. That San Pang would let these words reach the light of day, that he would acknowledge them so openly, so matter-of-factly.
“We’ve tried everything. We even sent him abroad for years. You were miserable every day. You love him and he loves you.”
We get more of Qian’s thinking face here as San Pang says these words, his mouth agape, his breath quickening, his eyes moving back and forth as he sorts through his own thoughts.
But I need to acknowledge San Pang. He has such an intriguing connection to Qian and his family. San Pang has power of Qian, because his parents are Qian’s landlords. He and Qian have been best friends for a very long time, and even though I think it is true that San Pang likely knows the most about Qian’s life history, he does not know it all. He is still, in many facets of his life, acting like a kicked dog and backing down every time he tries to push back against Qian now that Qian knows that he and Lili are together. But when push comes to shove. When Qian’s happiness is impeded, when Qian’s health is at risk, he will tell Qian what Qian needs to hear.
Whether or not Qian is truly having a hard time parsing through his feelings for Yuan doesn’t matter to me as much as Qian getting permission from multiple people to actually pursue the relationship. In acknowledging all of this, San Pang, the man who at one point told Yuan he could like anyone but Qian, the man that sent Yuan away for four years, is telling Qian that it is okay for Qian and Yuan to be together. He is the external judge that is finally accepting this taboo relationship, because he knows that if he does not show Qian that it is okay for him and Yuan to change from brothers to lovers, that neither Qian or Yuan will have any chance in hell of long term happiness.
“Even if you’re not together, he’ll be sad to see you sad.”
Off come Qian’s glasses. Shit is getting serious now. Qian rests his head on his hand, he looks away from San Pang. He really sits with it, you can see the emotions rising up in him, in the way he breathes, in the way his nostrils move, in the way his lips tremble for a second before he speaks.
gif by @ueasking
“I’m scared, you know?” he turns to look at San Pang, and he sucks in a huge breath through his nose. It’s the first time we’ve seen him breathe so obviously that way throughout the entire scene. GOD, QIAN KILLS ME.
“You haven’t even tried. What are you scared of?”
And this is the fascinating thing for me, right? Outside of Yuan, San Pang is Qian’s best friend, but they do not have conversations like this that often. San Pang has tried time and again to start the more serious conversations, to act as an emotional support for Qian, but Qian brushes those conversations off as much as he can. San Pang knew the medical issues, he knows the history, he knows about the pieces of Qian’s life that Qian can’t hide. But he does not know everything, Qian does not usually let himself be this vulnerable with San Pang, hell he hasn’t even told San Pang everything that happened with Le’s gang. He’s about to, but that is only because he is trying to make a point.
I think he is only having this conversation with San Pang, only admitting he is scared, and confused about his feelings for Yuan because he has literally no one else to talk to about it, and he’s starting to break down to the point that he can’t hold it all in by himself. And San Pang keeps pushing.
“You know he went to find Le by himself that day?”
“I know.”
“He was surrounded and beaten by six people, and in the end…”
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
He sucks in a breath. It takes him a moment to find the strength to form the words, so he forms a gun shape with his hand, which he points quickly a few times to fill the silence and the stillness in the room as he finds the shape of the admission on his tongue. He accentuates the severity of the memory with one final large motion.
“...they pointed a gun at…”
Ah, and there it is. The real reason behind Qian’s comment about wanting Lili and Yuan to be happy and healthy because he’s their big brother. Qian will not act on his feelings for Yuan, especially not right now because he is feeling guilty. Not just for sending Yuan away, not just because of the letter, but because Yuan’s unwavering loyalty, protectiveness, and love for Qian got Yuan hurt. Nearly got Yuan killed. Again.
Qian’s whole world, his entire drive was shattered the day Yuan confessed, when Yuan told Qian that he was suffering. Yuan’s love for Qian was hurting him. But Qian just wants Yuan to be happy and healthy. The chance at having that world again was nearly destroyed with the realization that Yuan almost died abroad. His world was made complete again when Yuan returned home. And it was very nearly destroyed once more when Yuan walked in to that gang in hopes of protecting Qian.
There is pain in witnessing the kind of love someone would die for.
Qian can put himself in danger for the sake of his siblings, because from my perspective, Qian never thought his life had much worth. His formative years were filled with horrific abuse, assault under the guise of love, pain, suffering, doing terrible things just to survive. But this is all because he cannot see the forest through the trees, of the life that he has built, of the home that he has built, of the safety that he has built for his siblings.
Yuan is not allowed to believe his life is less important than Qian’s because no one has ever thought that Qian’s life was more important than theirs.
“Fuck, you- you’re telling me that now? Then, you…Right now, you…So, you’ve lost…”
Another quick shout out to San Pang, and moreso to the writing for San Pang that they don’t always let him have these brilliant speeches. He was able to navigate the beginning of this conversation because he knew mostly what he was walking in to, but with the reveal of Yuan and Qian’s near death experience, he is fumbling.
The camera cuts back to Qian. I’d say Qian is listening to San Pang, but not fully present. Chris is doing so many things with his face in that moment. His nostrils are flaring, his lips are tightening like he’s trying to hold something back, he’s rocking his jaw from side to side.
gif by @ueasking
“So, this isn’t a decision I can make so lightly.” He is almost crying now, he won’t cry, I think the only time we’ve seen him cry is when he was staring the prospect of Yuan’s death directly in the face during Russian Roulette and when he was hugging Yuan afterwards. But you can see the growing frustration and the threat of the tears very clearly on his face. Qian emphasizes the statement by once again jabbing his finger into the couch.
“I have to consider the future.”
“Do you want him to have a future without you?”
Let me tell y’all the way I collapsed under the weight of that question…it is no wonder Qian, notoriously quiet Qian, immediately shuts his mouth. I appreciate how much San Pang is willing to be the sacrificial lamb, because that is exactly the question that Qian needed to hear. That is exactly the reality that Qian, Yuan, Lili all face if Qian does not get his blood clot treated. A future without Qian in it.
Qian needs to know exactly what he is doing to the people he loves by continuing to delay this medical treatment, but San Pang had to know that in asking it, it would only make Qian retreat back in to himself. Which is what Qian usually does. It was a miracle in it’s own right that San Pang was able to get Qian to voice this many of his concerns, to tell him the entire truth, to talk to him about the fear.
gif by @ueasking
Qian closes his eyes, he lets the blow of the question absorb in to him, and he nods his head. Which, in my opinion, is a brilliant choice because the way he nods does not read to me as a confession that yes, Qian does want Yuan to have a future without him in it, and more so is an admission of defeat from Qian. But because we don’t get verbal confirmation either way, we do not, San Pang does not, Yuan does not get any confirmation one way or the other about what Qian is thinking.
Qian just nods, lets the silence hang one moment longer, and kicks San Pang out.
“Go home.” He says. But there is a more promising follow up “Let me think about it.”
Which feels like the only thing Qian has really been doing for the last four years, but we’ve already established, that boy is about as moveable as a brick wall, and he and Yuan both serve to lose a lot if this goes wrong.
And there you go @lurkingshan! 4103 words on the mouth twitch, nervous body language, and tears in this scene :D
#unknown the series#unknown the series analysis#unknown the series meta#unknown#unknown episode 10#unknown the series episode 10#taiwanese bl#chris chiu#wka long post
248 notes
·
View notes
Note
ship: eddie/buck prompt: couch
hi, and thank you! this got longer than i was planning, lol.
buck/eddie; 700 words; unsubtle metaphors and first kisses
-
Eddie opens his eyes to the dim flickering light of the TV, turned down low but not quite muted on one of those Ninja Warrior things that Buck loves. He's tilted sideways, cheek pillowed against the outside of Buck's arm, and he's apparently been drooling a little, which would be more embarrassing if it were the first or even the twentieth time it's happened.
"Sorry," he mumbles, peeling his face away to flop back against the couch and muffle a yawn into the back of his hand. "Time's it?"
"Like ten. You were wiped."
"Haven't been sleeping great lately."
"Good thing I picked out a comfortable couch this time around, huh?"
Eddie laughs softly, rolls his shoulders until they give a couple of satisfying pops, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He glances up to see Buck watching him fondly, his face lit up in the glow of the screen, his eyes sleepy and soft.
"Yeah," he says. "Good thing."
Buck huffs a little, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Eddie imagines tracing the shape of it with his fingers, or maybe with his lips. It's a thought he's become more settled with in the past month or so, after Buck ended things with Tommy, or Tommy ended things with him—Eddie never actually got a detailed post-mortem on what went down there, from either of them, and he's not sure he wants one. They're both single now. Buck likes men. Eddie could just kiss him and see where it leads.
Instead, he slouches back against the couch. On the screen, a petite but muscular woman is slamming her way up a salmon ladder while the crowd shrieks, nearly muted, and the timer speeds ahead.
"God, she's so good. I bet she could kick my ass."
"That's your type, huh?" Eddie asks, and Buck ducks his head, laughing.
"I don't know. Maybe."
Eddie hums. He's remembering a night in Buck's kitchen, years ago—you wanna go for the title?—and a tension he can name more easily now than he could back then. For himself, anyway. Sometimes Buck looks at him the way he is now, and he thinks—but he doesn't know. Not for sure.
"Hey, Eddie?"
He didn't even realize his eyes had slid shut again. He blinks, rubbing at them, then rolls his head over to look at Buck. "Yeah?"
Buck hesitates, his lips parted. His eyes flicker over Eddie's face for a moment, and then he scoffs a little and turns his face away. "Nothing. Never mind."
"Oh, no, come on. Now you gotta tell me."
"It's nothing. Seriously."
"Buck."
Buck holds out for a moment, but Eddie can see the moment he gives in, his shoulders sagging, because he's never been any better at saying no to Eddie than Eddie is at saying no to him. It's comforting, the way they both have that problem. Buck rubs at his lower lip, then shrugs a little, then says, without looking at Eddie, "Do you ever… did you ever think that you and me, that we could be…" He glances over, quick and nervous, and Eddie wishes like hell that he knew what his face was doing or how to control it. Buck smears his hand over his mouth a little more roughly, then says, "Seriously, forget it."
"Buck," Eddie whispers. He straightens up on the couch, fully awake now.
"Eddie, I—I don't—"
"Hey," Eddie says, and he reaches up and touches Buck's cheek. Warm skin, stubble just starting to come in. Buck's eyelashes fluttering, his shaky breath. And it's easy from there, to let that guide him: to lean in and press a kiss to Buck's mouth.
It lingers in the stillness for a moment. Then Buck's hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his lips move against Eddie's, kissing him back.
It's soft, and they part just as softly. Buck's eyes are closed, but after a moment he opens them. He breathes out shakily, then laughs a little. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Eddie whispers. His hand is still on Buck's cheek, and he wants to kiss him again, and he thinks maybe he gets to do that now. "Yeah, I think we could."
258 notes
·
View notes
Note
please i need stardew valley bachelors in a kinky gangbang with gender neutral or female farmer!
I loved this suggestion but please have mercy, I didn't know which ones you wanted so I did all 6 which was VERY difficult for me to incorporate so I made it sort of cheap in the end to save having to write a whole night of sex with them all 😭 pls enjoy! I'm sorry if it's a little shitty, I've never written or read group sex stuff 😭
The Bachelor's and the Farmer's Night
Word Count: 1569
Pairing: F!Reader x Sebastian, Harvey, Sam, Alex, Shane & Elliott
Warning: 18+, group sex, rope kink, handcuffs, swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, anal mention, oral mention, cum swallowing, light bdsm (choking, spanking), all of it is pretty vague and quickly mentioned except the fingering & vaginal sex
It was Sam's idea. Not that he was gonna openly parade that around to anyone at first. It started as a pathetic fantasy that he would get off on at night, thin walls making him cover his own mouth as he imagined the farmer laying on a bed, tied down, taking it from him and Sebastian over and over. He was ashamed to even incorporate his friend in a fantasy, but the idea of a threesome with the farmer and Sebastian was just...so fucking hot. The idea of watching her get fucked, then fucking her - Sam was a simple man and he nearly came on the spot every single time he imagined it.
What's worse? He began incorporating the idea of Alex in the mix. He was friendly with Alex - and Sam had seen the farmer interacting with Alex a lot recently. Even throwing around a football with him the other day. Sam didn't immediately think anything of it, until he woke up sweating and hard, having dreamt the farmer and Alex going at it while Sam jacked off and waited for his turn patiently. Slowly, Sam began to think about...what if more people got involved? And oh, god. He finally let it slip to Sebastian.
"What do you think of that new farmer?" Sam asked as he took a shot for one of the striped balls on the pool table. His voice was even, but his heart was racing a pathetic amount.
Sebastian leaned on his stick, watching Sam's shot. "She's cute," Sebastian answered. The two made slow eye contact and Sam debated just leaving the whole conversation at that. But something about the way Sebastian stared him down made him crack.
"Yeah, yeah, she is...uh- you like her?"
Sebastian took a swig of his drink, nodded a little. "Sure," he said, "why?"
"How...how do you like her?" Sam gently rested his stick down on the wall, watching his friend. "Like," he began, "sexually...or...?"
Eyes widening a little, Sebastian tilted his head. "I- we don't usually talk about that kinda stuff," he dismissed, turning his attention to the pool table and ignoring Sam for a moment.
Sam nodded slightly, before he finally whispered, "I know but I want to...uh..." he glanced around the Saloon to see if anyone was looking towards them. No one was. "I kinda want to...have...some group sex with them."
Sebastian took a shot, perhaps out of shock, the cue ball launched across the table and sunk a striped ball. He stared down at the table. Quiet. "Just us three or?"
"Uhm...I was thinking maybe Alex..."
Sebastian raised his head up, hair falling over his left eye. "The farmer? Did you talk to her?"
Sam shook his head and Sebastian slowly turned to the table where he'd set his drink aside, grabbing it and gently taking a sip. "Ask her. Tell me when you do."
"You...you're in?"
Sebastian gave a short nod, and the two acted as though the conversation never even happened.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
When presented with the idea, albeit from a terrified Sam, you agreed immediately. With a condition. You wanted Sam to invite Elliott, Shane, and Harvey. His eyes widened.
"Six....you want six guys-" you nodded. Sam had to awkwardly adjust his pants, at the mere suggestion of that many guys fucking you he got hard. Just the idea of watching it was too much for him. "I- I'll see what they say."
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
To Sam's shock, every single person agreed. He was expecting a sharp no from Shane, but he said yes without a second thought. Harvey stuttered out a "Oh...holy shit...uh- at the farm-?" and blushed madly. Elliott tried to maintain some sort of dignity but by the immediate bulge in his pants Sam guessed his answer before Elliott could recover words and agree. Alex tried to act disgusted at first. But then he mumbled a "can I bring handcuffs and rope?" (Sam asked "dude you live with your grandparents in a small town, why do you even have those?" and was met with a glare).
So it was arranged, a day and time was set. The six made their way down to the farm, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Sam was hard basically half the day before this, eagerly awaiting the nighttime - when his fantasy would become reality. The farmer answered the door, smiling softly at the six men. "Boys, come on in," she smiled. Sam nearly choked, they were wearing a flannel, opened up, only a bra underneath. Fuck. Fucking christ. She was good at this.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
Upon being brought to the bedroom, Sam gently guided you to lay down, Harvey quickly mumbled "she needs a safe word-" and the rest agreed. Turning their attention to you. Six flushed, eager faces. You felt like prey laying in the bed, flannel opened to expose your bra. A safe word definitely was needed. As much as you wanted to take all six repeatedly you weren't entirely sure how much you could take before you were too used.
"Red light," you murmured out. "Yellow light means give me a break, but I want to keep going."
And so it began. Sam quickly ripped off the flannel and tossed it aside, then tore the bra off and threw it aside, his hands wandered to your jeans, slowly unzipping them. Your panties exposed, he gently moved his hand down, rubbing softly against the wet spot. You bit your lip, about to moan. Quickly, Sam backed up, Sebastian took one side of the bed and Alex the other. Hands launched to your chest, as Sam gently finished pulling off your pants. A hand on each breast, gently running your ripples through their fingers, you began moaning out loud. Sam got off the bed.
"Who wants to go first?" he asked, Elliott stepped forward. He gently undid his pants, erection springing out. He gently lined up.
You bit your lip, before he backed away, "did...anyone bring lube?" Elliott's voice gently asked. It was Harvey who had, gently digging it out of his jacket pocket and handing it over. Elliott gently poured some into his hand, gliding it across your pussy causing you to moan out. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sam, eagerly jacking off as he watched. Sebastian was still by your side, but his hands had left your body. Elliott gently shoved a finger in. "I'll start slow, you're about to have a hell of a night," he said reassuringly.
You looked up into his eyes, nodding softly. He smiled, gently leaning down, placing a kiss on your forehead, before be pulled his finger out. "Did that hurt at all?" you shook your head, and he gently shoved two fingers in, letting your body adjust to the feeling, he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. All eyes were on you and you whimpered softly, meeting eyes with Shane who was still fully dressed.
"Sha- shane-" you mumbled, gasping as Elliott's fingers expertly worked you. "Can- you- strip?"
A hand gently laced around your neck, "use manners, baby, what do we say?" it was Sebastian's hand, tight grip but just light enough not to hurt. Elliott's fingers effortlessly kept time.
"Please?" you whimpered, the hand left your neck and Shane slowly began to undo his belt. As soon as he was stripped, Elliott's hands left you, for only a second you had a miserable feeling of emptiness before Shane swapped with Elliott.
He postioned himself, hands gently gripping your hips as he found where to line up. "Ready?" you nodded, and with one swift thrust he was in you. Lips found your neck, Shane was focused on fucking you. It was Harvey who had knelt beside you, hand gently gliding down your body to your tit's. Lips on your neck, sucking and leaving a hickey.
Shane grunted, speeding up more. "Fuck- tight...gonna-"
"Not in her," Sam whimpered, you had forgotten Sam was still here, in the corner of the events jacking off. "We can't all...not in her."
To describe the events would be tiring and long and endless. They took turns, spilling themselves over your naked body, in your ass, in your mouth. Alex was partial to rough sex, Sam into watching, Harvey wanted to pleasure you however you asked, Shane was focused solely on his own quick finish, Sebastian wanted to tie you down with Alex's ropes when he fucked you and choke you out, Elliott was gentle and soft and sweet and placed kisses on your forehead as you took their dicks over and over and over.
In the end, the sun rose when you guys finally ended the session. You had given several sessions of head. Taken fingers, fists, and dicks. Been tied down, choked, spanked, had your hair pulled. And each of them had asked for something the others hadn't. Sam begged to finish by jacking off onto your naked body. Sebastian wanted your lips wrapped around his cock when he finished. Alex, he was the one who dug out a condom so he could feel your pussy tighten around him as he came inside you.
When the session ended, you simply told all of them. "We're doing this again."
#stardew valley x reader#sdv smut#sdv sebastian#sdv shane#sdv harvey#sdv elliott#sdv sam#sdv alex#sdv x reader#farmer x sebastian#farmer x shane#farmer x harvey#farmer x sam#farmer x alex#farmer x elliott#stardew valley smut#female farmer#x female reader
203 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
luciferfangirlforever
Lucifer
linsdoceara1
curta 👍
ganondoodle
Ganondoodles
yumbees
Hello, tis I
indidauber
Indidauber- themotoartist