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caxde · 1 month

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bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, on a sunny day Eddie's daughter bumps into you. (4.1k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

a/n: i think i might make this a little series if you guys would like that <3 part 2 part 3

It was warm outside.

Early spring had its advantages, flowers started to bloom, the sun shone brighter and longer, and the rain fell only at night when you had trouble sleeping.

You had just moved here, and you still weren’t sure or knew that much, so you tended to keep to yourself. You’d go to work, to the little shop on main street, back to your little trailer.

You were sitting down on your little kitchen floor, looking at the way your washing machine turned around, waiting for your hair to dry after the shower, so you could sleep with fresh sheets tonight. You enjoyed this sort of calmness, a new found happiness that you weren’t aware you could achieve.

You placed the white sheets on the little laundry basket that you had lying around, cloth pins scattered on its bottom. You held it, against your waist, your left hand grabbing it while you struggled to open the door.

You whispered along the words of a song that was playing from a beat up radio from across the street, taking your time, as you placed every sheet perfectly, enjoying the sun shining on your face. It was all going as well as it could.

“Hi.”

It startled you, not as much as it could, the little voice coming from down below you, it forced you to look down, a little girl looked up at you, half hiding behind your sheets, she was wearing a black faded black sabbath shirt that didn’t belong to her, the seam of it well past her knees, white socks on her feet, her hair was black and curly, half hiding her eyes.

“Oh. Hi.” You smiled at her, the sweetest tone you could fathom came out of your lips. She became shy for a second, as she grabbed one of your clothes pins and handed it to you. “Thank you, buddy.” You smiled as you grabbed it, placing it on top of one of your cushion covers, even if it didn’t need an extra one. “You’ll get your socks dirty.” You point out.

She smiled in a shy manner, covering her face with her hands as she nodded.

“Bug?” She turned around as soon as she heard his voice. Her arms went up, demanding to be held by him. “There you are!” He had a soft and playful tone, as he grabbed her.

You felt stuck there for a second. He was tall, with curly dark hair, strong decorated by tattoos arms that flex when he held her, close to his chest. The same smile she seemed to have was imprinted on his face. It’s not that he is attractive -which he undeniably is- but he seems to shine, in a beautiful light, warmer than the sun.

“I’m sorry if she annoyed you, we were playing hide and seek.” His words come out way too quicker than he had wanted them to, with an apologetic look on his face as he swayed his body, her giggles invading the space between you.

“She didn’t, not at all.” You smiled at him, before looking back at her, she was giggling at you now, and a soft spot was found deep inside your heart. “She was helping me do laundry, actually.” You point out to the extra wood clothespin that she had given you.

“Oh, so you can help the pretty lady and not me?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, the infectious laughter growing louder and stronger as he holds his face closer to hers.

But you don’t really listen, the only thing in your mind right now is his voice calling you pretty.

pretty, pretty, pretty.

Your cheeks become warmer, pinker.

As soon as he notices, he realises what he had said.

He had called you pretty before even introducing himself. He feels like a fool, he meets a pretty girl and is only focused on the one in his arms.

He tries to fix it, a soft grin dedicated to you as a nervous scoff leaves his lips.

You don’t really mind the silence, or the opportunity to look at him, and his dark chocolate eyes, but you have the impulse to tell him your name, and you do, with an upside down smile that passes down to him.

“I’m Eddie.” He says in return, grabbing your hand not thinking much of it, though he didn’t think he’d feel a sort of sparks as soon as your hand met his. To be fair, neither did you. “This little bug is Lua.” He adds, as he lets go of your hand, slowly, so his fingers can tickle her again, making her giggle once more, her tiny hands grabbing his hair in a playful manner.

“Hi Lua.” It’s not that your voice comes out shy, but the high pitched baby voice makes your tone come out with a bit of a treble, as if nervousness that she wouldn’t like you took over. “Thanks for helping me with laundry.” You add, as she hides, pushing her face against Eddie’s chest, the pureness of that gesture makes your smile wider.

If you weren’t so focused on Lua’s reactions, you would have caught Eddie lost into you, as he had never experienced such kindness or softness from someone that wasn’t already close.

He was used to the stares, and the silent judgment from everyone, way before Lua came into his life, and mostly it came from people around his age, or way older. His constant thought behind a string of ‘shut up grandpa’ and ‘go back to your retirement home’ that he never said out loud. The world could be mean, but he would never let her little girl know that. At least not yet.

He wasn’t used to this though.

A kind stranger, around his age, that doesn’t really judge, and interacts in a playful manner with her. It was more than he could fathom.

“‘r welcome.” Lua mumbled as she looked up from her hiding spot for a second, before burying herself back into his arms.

Eddie’s heart felt full for a moment. Lua wasn’t used to strangers, and she didn't really like to talk out loud to people she wasn’t used to. Though these days she was only used to uncle Way and Stevie, or aunt Rob. So seeing her, not only talking back after you told her something, but having seen her approach you out of her own will, it made his mind stop worrying for just a second. Lua’s social ability was just as good as his in that moment.

The thought made him smile to himself.

“We should check if our’s is done.” He mumbled to Lua’s ear as he started swinging his chest again, hugging her tightly as he felt how she was starting to get heavier. “That way you can stop wearing dada’s shirt.” He looked attentive at your face, waiting for your reaction.

He felt better when he didn’t see nothing but a compassionate smile.

Eddie was also used to people thinking he wasn’t the dad, maybe an uncle, maybe an older brother. Eddie was also used to people opening their eyes wide as soon as they hear dad when referred to him.

But you didn’t.

Truth be told, it did shock you a bit. But the little girl was a carbon copy of him. The same wide smile and wild hair. And the world was mean and complicated enough, you didn’t need to make it harder for someone you had just met.

“We’ll see you around?” He asks, with a hopefulness on his voice that you’re not too sure what it means, or what you actually want it to mean.

“Yeah, I moved in a while ago so…” He nodded as he pointed at the little trailer right in front of yours.

“That’s us.”

“Way!” Lua blurted out as she looked back at where she called home, and Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle and give her a kiss on her temple.

“Yes! And uncle Wayne too.” You noticed that his tone is sweeter, calmer and a bit higher when he talks to the little girl on his arms than when he talks to you. “If you ever need anything…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, the end of it implied, and you’re left nodding, telling him that if they ever need anything you’re here too, waving bye to Lua as she looks over Eddie’s shoulder, her little hand waving back.

You finish hanging your laundry dry, as you think about what just happened.

You had finally made friends that weren’t work related, and one of them was a baby. You sort of chuckle to yourself. It felt stupid, but it also felt good, knowing someone here, and that someone being nice, and kind.

It felt as if you were finally on the right path.

“Bug, please?” Eddie whined for the fourth time, while Lua was still on the higher part of the couch, looking out the window.

She shook her head again, Wednesdays were always the longest days in the Mudson household. Eddie took another big breath, while he looked at his wrist watch once again, afraid he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon.

“Okay… You can either stay here with uncle Way, or you can come with dada to the garage. Please?” He bargained, for the last time, begging to some higher power she’ll climb down the sofa.

He could scream out of excitement once she finally did.

“friend?” She asked, in a mumble as she pointed out of the door.

She had been doing that for a while now, ever since Eddie had found Lua in your yard, she kept asking to go see you, for some reason that escaped Eddie’s mind, her little girl seemed to have an infatuation with you.

Eddie sat down on the floor now, and Lua started walking closer to him, he laughed in defeat as she giggled, her little steps approaching him.

“Once I get back from work, deal?”

Eddie held his hand out, waiting for her to shake it as she usually did when she knew she had won whatever she wanted -which happened frequently- but accepted with glee once she tried to hug him, with her usual clumsiness. Her arms not quite reaching the back of his neck until he helped her up.

He enjoyed this little moment.

Holding her close while nothing else was going on. A long day ahead of him that he wasn’t totally ready for, but then again he wasn’t really ready for a lot of things that he ended up being capable of.

Wayne’s steps broke the small intimate moment.

“You made a friend, Lua?” He asked as she giggled at the sight of him, even if he still was half asleep, Wayne always seemed to have more than enough energy for her.

“She did.”

“Who?”

“New girl.” Eddie nodded at the trailer that could be seen through their window.

“Huh.” Wayne had never been a man of many words, but the way his facial expression changed usually left nothing to the imagination. In this case, it was a warning. An overprotective warning.

“She seems nice. Lua approached her.” She smiled, as she always did when she heard her own name. Eddie knew that she liked to be included, no matter what. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard.

“You did?” Wayne’s eyes opened wider, as he squatted down to meet her eye level, she wobbled her way into him, as she giggled once again. She had a secret power, or at least that’s what Eddie thought, to make everyone happy.

“Friend!” She said again, pointing at where she had last seen you.

“Okay bug, see you in a bit?”

“Lo you.” She muttered as she waved bye, Eddie’s heart warmer as he opened the door and blew her a kiss.

“Love you too, bug.” Eddie opened the door, stopping on the frame as he always did, checking his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed with him.

“Kid, if you plan on going over, make sure she’s okay with it. Not a lot of people are.” It was another warning, his left eyebrow raised, his tone sharper. Eddie just nodded.

And before he knew it, he was already on your door, knocking and hoping you’re actually home.

You were, and the nocks on your door wake you up. You had always been a light sleeper. You found your way out of your bed, and you didn’t care if your hair was a bit knotted than usual, messier or that your eyes were still adjusting to the light creeping through your windows. You opened the door and there he was. Tall, handsome Eddie, in his washed up jeans and his white shirt that had some small car grease marks on it. His opened blue short sleeve shirt with the little name tag made you smile internally.

“Sorry.” He muttered, as soon as you made eye contact with him.

He took a second, you stood there, sleep still present on your face and overall demeanor, but what caught his attention -even if he tried not to- were your naked legs, barely covered by an oversized shirt that you evidently used as a sleep shirt. Still, you looked pretty, he thought. He also felt bad that he had woken you up.

“S’kay. Morning.” You half joked as you smiled up at him, your head resting against the door frame, your arms crossed over your chest, the air making you feel a bit colder than you were deep in your sheets.

“Yeah, morning.” He was left speechless. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden he wished he hadn’t knocked. So you could be resting, being face to face with you, he could see the little bags under your eyes, and he imagined how much you were enjoying getting to sleep in.

“You knocked to tell me good morning?” If you hadn’t had a smile on your lips, or your voice wasn’t as sweet and soft as it was, Eddie would have felt even worse. When in reality it made you inexplicably happy that he was the reason you had woken up.

“No, yeah, sorry.” He chuckled in a nervous manner once again. “Uh, Lua has been asking for you, and uh… I’m done at work early today, and if it’s not too weird and if it’s okay we could come for a bit after, don’t worry if you don’t feel like it i-”

“I’d love that.” You cut his nervous and anxious rambling off. “I’m free today, so I can go pick up some things for her?”

Eddie relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his smile finally appearing.

While you had to try hard to hide your excitement.

“You don’t have to…”

“Shut up. She deserves it.”

Even if you weren’t aware of it, that was the best thing you could have said to him. But truth be told, you were actually excited, you had been thinking about him, and the promise of a new friendship since you had met him, so this? It felt like the perfect excuse.

“What time were you thinking?”

“Uh, I dunno, my shift ends at around six, so maybe…”

“I’ll have snacks ready by six then, don’t worry.”

He was way more thankful than he could express, but he tried his best anyway.

“Thank you princess, it means a lot. Truly.” That nickname rang in your ears for a while, the same way it did when he had called you pretty. It was made obvious that you had liked it by the way you were starting to blush.

“Don’t worry Edds.” You stayed just like you were for a second longer. Looking at him, and the way his dimples were showing when he smiled as wide as he did, and a spark in his eyes he seemed to reserve for you. “Hope you have a good day at work.”

He was the one blushing now, and the one he was left with the way you had called him Edds, the sound of your voice present on his ears for a while after he had started driving. It wasn’t until he arrived at the garage, when he realised he was smiling at nothing, like an idiot.

You might have gone a bit overboard.

You had gone into town, and before you knew it your fridge was now filled with various juices and milk. The good ones that you usually didn’t buy for yourself. You had thought about baking a cake, but you ended up deciding that that felt too much as a birthday type of treat, so you went for your comfort recipe.

The cookie dough was already done, and you were chopping up the chocolate bar into smaller bits. You hated dark chocolate, so milky sweet one was the only acceptable one.

Morrisey’s voice kept you company as you mutter along the lyrics.

You looked over your little home, you had cleaned, deeply. Afraid that Eddie would judge you, or that Lua would somehow hurt herself or something could happen to her. You tend to do that, over worrying about things you can’t really control.

Then again, Eddie was doing the same thing.

A quick shower, fresh clothes, and hair almost dry. Lua looked up at him with excitement, as he tried to find something else for her to wear. She had a tendency to steal his shirts when he wasn’t there, in an attempt to be close to him, or at least that’s what he thought. So the negotiation began.

“Bug, which one?” On his left hand he had a light blue dress that Joyce gave him a few years ago, on his right he had a newer pair of overalls. She stood there, shaking her head as she hugged the shirt she was already wearing. “You need to get dressed if you want to go see your new friend, bug.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, as soon as she realised they were going to see you, she pointed at the overalls and had no issue getting ready.

Thank god for you, he thought. It had never been that easy, normally Lua hated changing clothes, especially when she was already comfortable. But this time, she didn’t only do it, she helped, and was excited to.

Lua wasted no time, her hands hitting your door as hard as she could, which resulted in soft knocks you still heard.

“Hi.” She beamed up at you, holding her arms open for you, her voice higher than you remembered. It might be her childish excitement, or at least that’s what you think.

“Hi Lua.” You met her level of excitement as you squatted down so you could meet her, her arms trying to hug you, waiting for you to help her get up so she could do it. Used to this type of hug with her dad.

Speaking of, Eddie was speechless. Mainly because Lua doesn’t really hug people that are not him, or Wayne. Steve maybe had gotten two or three hugs, she usually blew kisses. Also he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted them there, or were just being nice, but that doubt went away as soon as he heard your voice, and saw the way you smiled at her.

He also was pretty sure that he could smell cookie dough.

Lua found her way in, passing you by as you greeted Eddie. She didn’t have time to waste, her curiosity always winning. In her defense, your house was full of colour, and she wasn’t used to it. Every pillow was a different colour, and they were everywhere. Your couch was green, which she didn’t even know that was a possibility. Your walls had photos, and posters, and drawings. She had so much to look at she was grinning from ear to ear, laughing as she moved around.

Eddie did the same, in a more discrete manner. He found his way in the middle of your living room, he looked at the stacked shelves, they were full to the brim, various fantasy books that he recognised -mainly because he had already read them- cassette tapes and vinyls also shared a big portion of space. He smiled to himself everytime he knew a group that you seemed to like. Your vhs collection also caught his eye. You, on the other hand, were left there, holding your hands in an anxious manner, not too sure what to do now. Seeing how father and daughter act the same in different ways.

“You’re listening to the Smiths?” He asked, once he caught on to what was playing.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll uh… turn it off.” You became embarrassed, knowing that probably he didn’t like that type of music, or maybe it was too loud. Eddie smiled, shaking his head no.

“No, it’s fine. Lua likes them, that’s all.” You looked down at her, and relaxed once you saw her dancing along. She was moving up and down, kind of in tune with the music.

The little timer started, letting you know that the cookies were now done.

“Lua, you like cookies?” She didn’t even need to say anything, her eyes opened as she heard the word, she walked next to you, Eddie following closely.

He grabbed her up, letting her sit down on the counter. He was grateful all the trailers were the same, that way he knew -kinda- where everything was.

“Carefull, bug. It’s hot.”

“Hot.” She repeated, pointing at the baking sheet that you took out, fresh golden chocolate chips came out. “For me?”

“Well, not all of them.” Eddie answered, with an amused tone in her voice that made you chuckle in response.

“We have to wait for them to cool down a bit.” You told her as you placed them on a plate, the tips of your fingers slightly burning.

“Why?” Her eyes opened in wonder, not really following you.

“‘Cause when they’re too warm, they can give you a belly ache.” You explained to her, earnest in your tone, as you touched your own stomach.

“Only five minutes, bug.” Lua turned around, looking at Eddie with a confused look. “You can wait five minutes right?” She looked at him, slowly. You couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the way they share the same look between them.

You were on the couch.

Eddie didn’t count it as cuddling, not really.

You were just sitting down next to him, his arm brushing yours, as you both looked between the T.V that was playing ‘Arthur and the Stone ’- you had a tendency to collect VHS, and the style and drawings had pulled you to buy it. You didn’t have an excuse until now to watch it, so you were just enjoying it as much as Lua did- and the little one, who was enamored by the story, while she colored in one paper lazily.

Eddie had become a bit too comfortable. His body feeling heavier, warmer, he was on the verge of falling asleep. That same feeling shot sirens on his head. This felt too nice, too normal, too usual. He could get used to this, and that wasn’t good.

He didn’t really know you.

Eddie knew where you lived, how your living room looked, that you worked almost everyday -though he still didn’t know where-, and that you were incredibly nice. And sweet.

Eddie also knew that Lua trusted you, and for now, that was enough.

It was enough that you had taken time out of your day so you could bake them cookies, or buying the expensive juice that you had taken them in as if they had always belonged there.

Lua giggled and Eddie’s eyes opened, seeing how she was pointing at the T.V when the boy turned into a squirrel, and the way she looked up at you, wanting to see your reaction. He was happy, more than he had been in a while.

You were sinking deeper into the cushions. Deeper into him and this familiarity. You could get used to this, but you weren’t unsure if you should. You enjoyed spending time with them, and this was fun, but then again, it was scary. It scared you, the thought of it going wrong, or you doing something you weren’t supposed to, it was a bit too much.

While you were sitting down there, with him that close, his smell lingering in the air, his warmness by your side, the risk of this crush evolving into something else was too much.

You didn’t care. Not at all.

Neither did Eddie. Not even a little bit.

part 2 is up!

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

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sturnsdoll · 10 days

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𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 -`♡´- - c.s & t.y x reader

inspired by THIS

pairing: chris x tara x reader.

summary: two of your bestfriends stay over after a party. your friend tara's flirting quickly escalates the night into something much less innocent than a little sleepover.

warnings: smut, threesome, face sitting, dom!chris, switch!tara, sub!reader, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f & m recieving), praise, overstimulation, fingering, no protection (it's fiction. don't be dumb.), probably forgot some sorry!

authors note: omg y'all been on my ass to finish writing thiss <3 i did write and edit this while sleepy so (i really hope not) BUT if there's mistakes or lack of detail i'm really sorry!

"pink" = reader speaking "purple" = tara speaking "orange" = chris speaking

the time on your phone read 3:04am.

with a sigh you searched your surroundings impatiently. you'd been stood outside on the lawn of this stupid giant house for 4 minutes too long. the dampness on you from light raindroplets coming down just made the experience all the more unpleasent.

the mansion behind you was a mututal friends. inside, music blared so loud that it was seeping out through the windows. despite the absaloutely absurd hour of the night it was still bustling with people inside. sometimes in LA it felt like the parties just never died out. to be fair though, the number had signifincantly decreased from the start of the night when there must have been at least 100 people on the property.

"hey, sorry! i got caught up in yappin while trying to say goodbye to people" tara's familiar voice instantly made your tense shoulders drop. you turned to face her with a smile "it's alright. seen chris around yet?" your eyes scanned behind her to see if he was coming even though you didn't expect him to be. and he wasn't. "maybe we should text him?" tara suggested as she also looked behind her, as if it would make him appear faster. you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

3:07. they were both told to meet out here at 3:00. 7 minutes still wasn't terribly late.

tara's voice took you from your screen "we've been out here freezing, loser" you stop typing your text message to look up at whoever she was talking too. you were met with the sight of chris holding his jacket over his head to block from the rain falling down on him. "my bad, i got lost in the house.." he admitted as he got right up to the two of you and held his jacket out a little further to invite you both beneath it's shelter. "but i already called the uber so it should be here soon." he said re-assuringly. you both stepped beneath the coverage of his jacket. it didn't completely block the rain but it was something.

tara was staying over tonight because the two of you almost always stay at one anothers after parties. chris however, was coming along because neither matt or nick wanted to come to the party so you had taken him here, as well as offered to take him home the next day. he could have just ubered home tonight but, you and tara insisted that he come over to hang out after. what was he gonna do? say no to a fun innocent little sleepover with his friends??

the three of you walked in unison in order to keep your place under the shelter of chris' jacket. the whole way off the property the music faded and tara's heels clicking mixed with the rain's intensity picking up became all that was heard.

the close proximity of the three of you should have been uncomfortable but you had absaloutely no issue being this close to tara and chris- probably because they were both very outgoing and touchy people so they were comfortable as well, giggling the whole way down the lawn about who knows what. the smell of rain and chris' dior cologne filled your senses up the whole walk until finally, you all made it to the sidewalk and the uber was right there across the street.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the ride home, you had all sat in the back together. you sat in the middle, head on chris's shoulder and one leg swung over tara's lap as you and tara yapped away almost the entire time. this wasn't weird because tara, you and chris were all naturally touchy people. and the alcohol hadn't completely left yours or taras systems quite yet.

opening your front door now, you instantly removed the heels that had been abusing your feet for hours. "i'm gonna get comfy clothes, you two can make yourselves comfortable" you told your friends as you locked your door securely. "could i borrow a shirt or something?" tara questioned with a sweet pleading smile as she slid off her heels and coat. "of course! come on" you enthused, leading her toward your laundry room since you hadn't had time to put any of your clothes away earlier before the party.

chris watched as you lead tara away. he had already made himself at home on your couch. he had been here before so it didn't take him long to figure out the tv remote either.

tara eventually picked out a t-shirt of yours to wear. you had chosen a matching tank and shorts pj set. as you were sliding your shorts on under your dress, you caught sight of tara sliding her dress down her shoulders. slowly her tits peaked over her dress, little by little till they were completely exposed.

you were in awe of how perfect they sat. how pretty. you were so mesmerized that you didn't even realize she had completely removed her dress and caught your hungry gaze. a typical tara giggle escaped her, snapping you out of your haze.

your eyes shot up to hers and you look petrified. "i'm so sorr-" "no no, it's okay" you could tell by the smile on her face that she was genuine. she slid your shirt over her head, covering her body back up again. "you want help unzipping your dress?" she asked. you were still so stuck on what had just happened that the question caught you off gaurd. why not though? god knows it'd be a nightmare to unzip it yourself. so, you nodded with an embarassed "sure".

tara made her way behind you, she stepped just a little closer than necessary and her painted fingernails found your zipper to slide it down. you could feel her breath on your neck, making your spine shiver. she slowly slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting your dress fall down near your stomach.

she came right behind you, head on your shoulder. she looked down at your chest VERY obviously observing you with her gaze. "gorgeous" she complimented, her mischevious smile contradicting her sweet and casual tone. she gave a quick kiss to your shoulder before abruptly leaving the room to go find chris like it was nothing.

you stood completely dumbfounded. you and tara were extremely close but that was weird, right? after a couple minutes of collecting your thoughts, you chalked it up to her flirty personality just being fed a little too much liquid courage tonight.

after getting your clothes on you made your way to the living room where chris and tara were talking away. they were sitting surprisingly close but, spacial awarness wasn't always tara's specialty. chris didn't seem to mind.

"heyy me and chris are deciding what we want to eat, what do you want?" she questioned excitedly with uber eats already open on her phone.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you all had made your decisions on food as well as a movie and you instructed that everyone watched it in your room to be more comfy so here the three of you were now..

chris laid with his back against your headboard while you and tara sat next to him on either side. chris and tara were talking over the movie that was nearly over now. waterbottles and empty fast food containers filled the space on your side table. you and tara had completely sobered up about an hour ago after having had some food.

"right? like wear what you want i guess but like WOW i just.." you had no clue what chris was talking about and you didn't care, as your eyes fixated on the tv screen you drowned out your two friends voices. reaching into your bedside tables drawer, you removed a vanilla chapstick sorry spacecamp to fix the dryness that earliers alcohol had cursed you with.

the scent of it was super strong. chris had subconciously switched his attention from what he was saying to your lips as the scent you were applying filled his nose and senses. he watched as you drug it across your perfect, round and now smooth, lips. he realized he was staring and quickly looked away. now that his attention had been drawn to you, he realized that you hadn't really talked to him or tara much for the past hour.

"what is that? cake or some shit?" he said, more so as a reason to include you in conversation than out of actual curiousity. you went to put the cap back on the vanilla lipbalm "can i try?" tara asked before you could even answer chris. you went to hand her the tube but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist gently "why waste it when we could share?" she asked. you were confused for a second until a playful glint in her eyes told you what she meant.

so earlier she was flirting? you thought to yourself. your expression mirrored hers with a smirk as you casually responded "of course you can try it". she begins to move forward so you do too. the both of you are leaning over chris when your lips connect in a gentle peck. chris has no idea how to react. his lips are parted, eyes glossy with a growing desire as he watches his two friends infront of him.

your lips hover one anothers for a moment but nobodies pulling away so you connect mouths again. this time there's a passion, lust, to the kiss. your the first to add tongue and tara's more than welcoming about it, her tongue fighting back against yours for dominance. you lean into the kiss more and with that same surge of confidence, you make a split second decision to "accidentally" steady yourself by pressing your hand ontop of the blanket.. right over where chris' dick is located.

an unexpectful grunt slips his lips. you pull back from tara just a little to gage chris's reaction. he doesn't seem to mind but for your own good-concious you need to make sure. "this okay?" you ask as your palm gently starts rubbing onto the tent in the blanket. he nods confirmingly, a quiet "yeah" before his lips eagerly meet yours. tara backs up just slightly so she can adjust herself to place a kiss below chris's jaw. his hand rests onto her knee and he rubs his thumb lightly as a show of approval.

with that, she opens her mouth and begins lightly nipping at his neck. tara takes his hand that's on her knee and grabs it to guide it toward you, silently telling him to give you the attention instead right now. chris smirks into the kiss but you don't know why until his hand goes to toy the waist band of your shorts, making you flinch a little at the cold touch of his fingertips.

tara's lips leave chris's neck. she shuffling around the bed so you try to pull away to see what she's doing. chris's hand comes to the back of your head, forcing you back onto his lips. that doesn't last long though because next thing you know, tara's grabbing your shoulders to pull you to lay down on your back, head toward the end of the bed. your legs naturally go on either side of chris. he's still seated with his back against the headboard.

"you wanna make me feel good babe?" the tone of tara's voice makes your stomach flutter. you respond by nodding eagerly. tara giggles mischeviously in response as she stands to remove her black lace panties. chris eyes catch onto her. both of you watch as she bends over to slide them off, momentarily revealing her glistening pussy.

his attentions pulls away when you subconciously buck your hips up for attention. chris' long fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts to slide them off your legs. you allow him, lifting your hips to help. now you lift your head to watch what chris is up to. you feel tara's weight consume the bed next to your head but keep your eyes trained on the man between your legs. chris tosses your shorts aside before his hands find your thighs. painstakingly slow, his palms run up and down them, always close but never quite touching your aching cunt.

you begin to get impatient "chris. pl-" you're cut off by tara lightly grabbing your jaw and forcing your head back down against the bed. "shh. let him take his time honey" as she speaks she raises herself over your face, thighs now on either sides of your head. you open your mouth to argue but instead you're silenced by tara's folds pressing onto your lips.

well, you for sure weren't gonna argue with that. you forget about chris for now, wanting tara's taste in your mouth. your tongue darts out to experimentaly flick at her clit once before you completely dive in to suck on her needy bud.

tara whines from the lack of build up. she looks down at you admirably as your tongue works her "so good honey." she praises you. it hasn't even been a minute and your pussy drunk, you wanna make her keep telling you how good your doing, wanna pull more pretty noises. you're so completely consumed with her that you hadn't even noticed chris pulled your panties to the side until his fingers unexpectedly ran through your folds.

"so fucking soaked." chris states, admiring your soaked cunt. "yeah? you like being buried in me that much?" tara teases, staring down at you. to answer her, your tongue slips into her hole, nose stimulating her clit now. "orr she just wants to be touched, hm?" chris says with slight competitivness, his pointer finger just barely grazes over your clit. you buck your hips toward him for more but he uses his free arm to hold your waist to the bed.

tara scoffs, rolling her eyes even though neither of you can see it. "yeah sure" she mutters quietly in response to chris. he catches it though, "i'd watch your tone" chris warns her. before tara can respond, he thrusts his middle and ring fingers into you, elicting a moan. the vibrations of your moan travel straight into taras cunt, making her whine loudly.

chris watches with satisfaction at having affected both of you at the same time. although his cock is throbbing, he's more than happy to watch the sight infront of him and continue to toy and play with you. or both of you. his fingers are as deep as they go when he curls them upwards. you cry out, grabbing tara's hand with one of yours and her thigh with your other.

your tongue is still fucking her closer and closer to the edge. everytime chris forces out all your pretty little noises, they go straight into tara's cunt again and again.

her thighs begin suffocating the sides of your head. you don't mind at all. she rocks her cunt right into your face, whines spilling out of her. "i'm close" she voices, her thighs beginning to shake. "not yet, get off of her" chris demands. tara turns her head as far as it goes to look back at chris. "excuse me?" she questions him . chris's fingers pull out of you. you try to complain but it's muffled. they continue the conversation without you. "you're not cumming yet." he tells her. tara looks... offended? baffeled? she opens her mouth to complain but chris rolls his eyes and raises to his knee's so he can grab taras hips, lifting her off you.

you immedietly sit up, confused. tara's juices coat your chin and chris motions for you to come to him. "what. the. fuck?" you finally complain, looking between the two of them. "what she said" tara chimes in. chris turns tara to face him and lays back. he looks at tara then nods toward his lap. the sour look leaves her face and she smirks knowingly as she straddles his hips, already working at his belt.

chris's attention switches to you. "you wanna feel good again? hm?" he asks you with a slightly cocky smile. you nod. "cm'ere" he lures you over to sit on his face. while tara unbuttons and removes chris' pants.. you nervously place your thighs on either side of your friends face.

his middle and ring fingers return back to your aching hole to tease you again. he can sense your nervousness to lower yourself onto his mouth. "cm'on let me taste you" chris says, telling not asking as he looks up at you. you're looking anywhere but him. he groans frustratedly and decides to take matters into his own hands. he uses his free arm to wrap it around your thigh and pull you right down to his tongue. he wastes no time flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your clit rapidly. as if that wasn't enough, his fingers fill you right back up. you almost jump at the unsuspected and sudden pleasure. you push your cunt further onto his mouth for more. you look down to see his blue lustful gaze staring right back up at you while he smirks into your sopping cunt. you clench around his fingers just at the sight.

meanwhile, tara's teasingly pulling his boxers toward his thighs.

tara wants nothing more than to ride him like he had implied however, tara figured someone might as well return the favour that he's giving to you right now. she leans down and her hand wraps around his base at the same time her lips enclose his tip.

a whiny moan slips chris lips that makes tara amusedly giggle around his cock, causing him to let another noise slip. both of these go right to your clit. you grip chris' hair for support and in return he curls his fingers right up into your g-spot.

you throw your head back and begin attempting to rock your hips into chris' face. the arm that's around your thigh holds you still though and he begins curling his fingers the same way over and over, again and again. you whine and moan as your body tries again and again to rock against his grip on you. chris lips wrap around your clit now, nipping and sucking. your stomach twists with pleasure, you know what's coming if he keeps this up.

tara's mouth slides down his length, taking him in almost completetely. chris's teeth bite down on your clit in reaction. it's not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to shock you and almost tip you right over the edge.

chris releases your clit with a pop. his voice is shakier than he anticipated. "y-you wanna cum baby?" your friend asks as he looks up at you, your juices on his face with pussy drunk eyes. "mm- mhm" is all you manage. he gently slaps your thigh, making you whine. "lemme hear you say it" his fingers continue to curl into you.

"i w-wanna cum chris mm please" you beg him desperately as you clench around his fingers. there's a few seconds of silence that makes tears fill the corner of your eyes. "good girl. g-go ahead" he struggled to speak as the pleasure tara's tongue gave him was almost too much.

the 'good girl' was more than enough for you. you practically fold over, you would have if your headboard wasn't there to grab onto. your legs shake and your walls squeeze his fingers, your orgasm is already coming over you but then on top of it chris adds his mouth back to the mix, latching it back to your clit. "chris!" his name comes out high pitched. stars cloud your vision as you coat his fingers completely.

tara's mouth release's chris' cock. the bed shifts for a couple seconds and before he can process it, the warm walls of her cunt envelope him, sinking all the way to his pubic bone. chris moans into you again but this time it feels like too much. you tried to lift your hips off of him but he only pulls your pretty pussy right back to him. his fingers leave you but his tongue flattens against your hole, licking a long stripe from there till your clit.

"fuck chris!""fuck!" you and tara both whine out. your pleasure's from the overstimulation, hers from the way his cock hits all the right spots when she rocks on it. his dick twitching inside of her at the sound of both your pretty cries. when tara begins a steady and fast pace, chris couldn't help but subconciously try and fuck up into her. she leans back, her hands on his thighs to steady herself as her rythym became faster. both chris and tara let out noises. hers whiny and desperate, his lower and less often.

you couldn't hear either of them over the ringing in your ears from every muscle in your body shaking. because of your last orgasm, you were still very sensitive. this time all it took was chris's mouth sucking on your clit for and you were almost there again.

tara was finding friction for her clit from rocking it into chris' pelvis everytime her hips moved. her mouth was slack and she was hardly even moaning anymore. heavy breaths coming as her chest heaved. "fuck- i'm so close" tara mutters mostly to herself. you took a hand off the headboard to reach behind you, your hand reaching out behind you and she takes the hint, grabbing it. you both squeezed one anothers hands for support.

you guys weren't the only one's close. chris's dick was twitching inside your bestfriend and his hips start to stutter.

tara pushes her hips down harder onto her friend and the feeling was enough for the coil in her stomach to release. she cried out breathlessly and at the same time, your thighs squeeze chris's head as you dig your nails into tara's hand. your mind goes completely blank.

you remove yourself from chris's face, completely overstimulated. tara leaves his cock at the same time, red and leaking precum. chris looked at tara confused.. until she looks at you, then back to him.

you didn't notice this, you were sat next to chris, chest heaving while you catch your breath. "think you can take one more, babe?" tara speaks up but her voice is strained and raspy from all the gorgeous noises she had emitted just moments ago.

you looked at chris who was already looking at you. he looked pretty, sweat causing a few of his brown strands to cling to his forehead. despite looking a little fucked out, he still had an eagerness to him probably because he hadn't cum yet.

he got up into a seated position and reached out, hand going into your hair to pull you into him. his lips collided with yours feverishly whilst tara's fingertips teasingly graze his tip. he instantly swatted her hand away. she let him because they both knew he had other plans.

chris turned you around, positioning you on your knee's infront of him. your back pressed against his chest.

he used his knee's to seperate yours, shuffling them apart. tara came infront of you, on her knee's as well. she attatched her lips with yours while chris was positioning himself. your arm came around the back of her neck and the other reached behind you to go to the back of chris's neck as well.

chris brushes his tip against your clit. you instantly jerked your hips away from his from the overstimulating feeling. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back. you whine but he shushes you. "jus one more, yeah?" he assured right before his cock entered you, filling you up completely.

your lips left tara's to let out what was practically a scream. "shh honey" enphasizing her words, tara's hand clasps over your mouth. she lowered her head level to your tits before taking a nipple into her mouth. this makes you whine again, then again when chris's tip abuses your cervix without warning.

you're already so sensitive from his tongue and fingers just moments ago, his cock feels like too much but so good at the same time. "so good for us" chris praises before slamming into you again, making you scream into tara's hand. her other hand lands a light slap to your sensitive clit, making your hips jerk. you don't go far against chris' firm hold on you. "mm- g- cmm" even with taras hand shutting you up, they both know what you're saying.

chris mouth is now right next to your ear "not yet. you're gonna cum with me" he mutters to you. you shake your head, not thinking you're gonna last. "either you can fuckin wait for me or- fuck- or i'll make you take a fourth o-one" he threatens you. you shake your head in momentary panic. there's no way you're gonna cum for a fourth after this but if he makes you wait much longer to cum you aren't gonna have a choice but to finish before he allows you to.

tara continues to swirl her tongue around your nipple fiercly and as if you weren't already fucked dumb, her middle finger makes sudden contact with your clit, rubbing fast circles.

now you know that they're both just trying to fucking ruin you.

now you speak nonsense into her hand, making her smirk with amusement. "what's wrong honey, too much?" tara asks you with a faux-sympathetic pout. you aggresively nod your head. responding for tara, chris pulls you impossibly tighter against him, hips slamming harder into you. you yell into her hand and both of them smirk. "want us to stop?" she says teasingly, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure. you instantly shake your head no.

her fingers still toy your clit and chris's pace slowly starts to falter. you can feel his breath on your neck becoming un-even. tara circles your sensitive bundle of nerves faster and you're sure your gonna be cumming before you're allowed.

luckily for you, the way chris holds your body tighter and his forehead drops to your shoulder says otherwise. "you gonna cum with me?" his voice is all low fucked out and it makes your walls squeeze him harder than ever. you nod, unable to speak for more than one reason. "go on then" he encourages along with a harsh slam of his hips. the second "go" left his lips your vision went white.

the next thing you were aware of was about 20 seconds after when his seed was spilling up into you to coat your walls. his forehead rested on your shoulder while he praised you on how good you were for him. "did so well" he said before gently kissing your shoulder while tara's fingers left your clit at the same time chris pulled out of you.

chris reached down next to your bed to retrieve everyones clothing for them. you had two bathrooms so you and tara headed off to one for a shower. chris to the other bathroom for the same reason.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you all returned to your room after, clean and in new clean clothes. (lucky for chris, nick hangs out here often and you love to steal his shit to wear for comfort.)

chris had entered just as you finished making your bed with fresh sheets. "better not have been fucking in there without me" chris joked as he made himself comfortable laying on your bed. you and tara both simultaniously rolled your eyes at him, scoffing. you both joined him on the bed to lie down.

you were in the middle of them. chris spooned you and you spooned tara, cuddling one another comfortbly way past awkwardness at this point. chris rubbed a relaxing hand up and down your side and you played with your other friends hair relaxingly. you should know better though, comfortable silence doesn't exist with chris around...

"guess what?"

you audibly sighed. "what?" tara and you groaned knowingly in unison.

there's a little grin on his face that neither of you can see, but nonetheless you both sense the ridiculousness. "i saw both your boobies" he says in a childish sing-song tone.

"oh my god" "are you fucking kidding me?"

i really hope y'all enjoyed. ᥫ᭡

tags: @daddyslilchickenfingers @fratbrochrisgf @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniccc

#chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #tara yummy smut #sturnsdoll #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fanfic #tara yummy #tara yummy fanfic #tara yummy x reader #sturniolo smut

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xiaowhore · 8 months

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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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

You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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

You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

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zwhoreo · 4 months

Note

Luffy accidentally eating/taking aphrodisiac and reader has to deal with the results.

HAPPY 2024!!! :D here’s my longest fic ever as a celebration

can’t come down - aphrodisiac luffy x f!reader

smut with some angst

summary: thinking it was regular chocolate, you accidentally give luffy several doses of a potent aphrodisiac. now he needs you to take care of him

contains: accidental intoxication, luffy in discomfort/distress, tears, some uncomfortable sex, overstimulation, luffy and zoro in a brief sexual situation

words: 4.8k

_______________________________

It’s all your fault. You’ve hurt him, the little angel. A pleasant but burning pain, he’s attached to you, drooling on your neck and he’s been going for hours and he’s rubbing inside you ceaselessly, you’re dripping with him. He’s whimpering, this sweet boy. His eyes are blown out and hazy and he won’t stop just gazing at you, open-mouthed whimpers while he rubs inside you so deep and rough that god, you can feel it blooming and aching in your stomach, squeezed as you breathe so with every breath he moans in frustration and desire. Luffy just wanted chocolate, it’s all your fault.

______________________________

This town is seedy and dark. You like it because you can’t find these sorts of shops in regular port towns, places selling hallucinogens and fake medicine and alcohol for 100 berries a bottle. The sex shops don’t even board up their windows, that’s why you and Nami thought why not, let’s explore.

It’s not a serious shopping trip, more of a chance to laugh, tease each other, indulge in curiosity. This store’s set into the ground, beneath a metal stairway, it’s starting to rain so you two run for cover in the most interesting place.

The sex shop, which is very dim, all lantern light, is filled with things neither of you had ever seen before or thought to consider. The salesman is pushy, coming from behind the counter to try to sell you things you certainly hadn’t come there for. You laugh and walk around and whisper to each other. And even though you’re in a loving relationship these aren’t things you’ve thought to consider. Luffy wouldn’t like any of this. You would never do something to hurt or confuse him, not when you’re both vulnerable like that. But these low prices intrigue Nami who tells you that hey, why not get some cute lingerie?

“They’ve got a whole wall of it!” She points to the colorful selection of lace and silk and you do admit, it’s beautiful. It’s not something Luffy would care about really but you’d feel pretty in it, maybe. They’ve even got these cute little translucent night dresses that look so comfortable.

So you approach the salesman with your arms full of lingerie and he looks eager to be selling to two beautiful women. He keeps talking about deals and discounts, and with a little wink he throws in a special offer, with those two night dresses you’re buying you get free aphrodisiacs. Chocolate aphrodisiacs in a little white box and he keeps telling you these things are powerful. It’s a special deal, just for you. And with laughter and encouragement from Nami you say why not. You take them, even though you don’t think you’ll ever use them.

___________________________

Weeks go by. That little box, it rests forgotten in some dresser drawer. You tend to forget things at sea.

And there’s this island, more of an ocean mountain really, with jagged cliffs for beaches but there’s a small jungle on top, there might be food or resources up there. So Sanji and Zoro are going to go, and Luffy absolutely insists on coming with them. He’s all excited about it, hyper, rolling on his feet because he’s been kept away too long on the ship and he wants to explore.

But he’s not feeling quite himself. You’ve been short on food and Luffy’s had it bad, never satisfied after meals for the last couple days. That’s why this ocean mountain is the center of your universe with only the promise of a grove of mango trees, a flock of quail. So he’s begging you, pawing at your knees as you sit in bed and begging to get something to eat before he goes exploring. You try to help, maybe there’s something in a drawer, you get to your knees and dig through your dresser while Luffy crouches behind you, leaning on your back, you feel his warmth through your shirt. He’s impatient so he bites the back of your neck, tender but sharp.

You find the little box. You have no memory, in that moment, of where you got it. There’s no label, and you later think to yourself why the hell was there no label? but of course it doesn’t cross your mind right here. It’s a little box of chocolates and before you even have a chance to remember, Luffy snatches them out of your hand and says thank you and kisses you quickly on the cheek, cupping your face, his lips wet from hunger. And he sprints away, leaving you blushing, sitting there on your floor with a little smile.

_________________________

He’s beginning to feel very warm but it’s just the sun, probably. He takes off his cardigan, carrying it on his arm. His skin glistens golden in the light, a perfectly burnt brown, but now he’s going red with flush creeping from his face to his shoulders. Luffy’s breathing is irregular now, shuddering. He looks around, the trees wavering just a bit in a cloudy haze through his eyes.

“Sanji?” And he reaches for Sanji’s hand because for some reason he craves contact right now. But Sanji pulls away, feeling the layer of sweat coating Luffy’s palm. “I feel weird.”

Sanji’s eyes wander him. He can sense there’s something not right in Luffy’s stare, something dulled and far away. Something’s wrong, what’s wrong?

“Luffy?” Sanji doesn’t know what to do in these kinds of situations. “You should go see Chopper,” he says finally with his hand on Luffy’s shoulder, gingerly.

“Don’t wanna go back yet.” Luffy’s complaining despite the discomfort. And when he sees that Sanji won’t tell him anything he wants to hear, he turns and disappears into the underbrush, maybe water will help, something cold.

So he comes to this little pond, crystal clear and dappled by sunlight, there’s frogs on the lilly pads. If he wades to his thighs he won’t pass out, probably. There isn’t much care for himself in this moment, just a need to get rid of this burning. So he strips off his jeans which helps, strangely. A breeze hits his now bare body. He feels raw in a way he never has before.

That’s a yearning need to touch himself, but no, Luffy doesn’t think about that. He’s hot so he needs to get in the water. He stumbles on the rocks because his vision isn’t quite right. He shouldn’t go to his waist but that’s where the burning is. Ankles then knees then thighs, ripples lap between his legs, he’s left panting and tingling, that water is hitting nerve endings and with every wave comes friction that makes his body twitch. He wants more.

His hand flies to his cock as if by impulse, all of a sudden. There’s no thoughts now, just need, his hand rubs himself messily even though Luffy has no control, no concept of what he’s doing or why.

God, please.

He bends over a little, head down. Beads of sweat from his brow speckling the water as his whole body shakes back and forth and his muscles spasm. Frustration fogs his mind, with every pump it only stretches his skin, not enough friction, his hand is clamped down so tight that it’s doing nothing for him. He feels like crying. He hates that he wants to go home.

But this isn’t home. And as Luffy moans unabashedly this sounds like cries from pain, which they are, a bit. So it’s Zoro who hears him and without a second thought he’s tearing through the underbrush, tripping over his own feet, led blindly by his worst sound in the world — Luffy crying.

He shouts his name and crashes through the trees, he’s in the clearing and looking around desperately but what he sees makes him yell again. There’s Luffy, the love of Zoro’s life, completely naked and wading in the water of that crystal clear pond and moving sporadically as he rubs his cock, so painfully rock hard, over and over in this animalistic desperation as he cries and whimpers. He doesn’t know where he is or who’s around him and he doesn’t see Zoro.

Until he’s shoved from the side, a powerful push that sends him tumbling into the water, cruel cold water that sucks him in and starts a familiar panic within his heart that makes him forget for a moment about that burning inside him.

“WHAT THE FUCK, LUFFY?!” Zoro pulls him by his hair, shaking him, throwing him on the rocks and looking at Luffy with these stricken eyes, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing. His composure in that moment is shattered, his fists are clenched.

They’ve seen each other naked so many times. They’ve bathed and held and carried each other with nothing between their skin, it’s just how it happens sometimes when you’re that close. But this intimacy, this state Luffy’s in, it’s like nothing Zoro was prepared to see or could even really imagine out of Luffy. Something is horribly wrong.

“Zoro…” and Luffy’s taken up in his arms because no disgust or awkwardness comes before helping a friend who’s hurting. “I feel… I dunno… what’s- …”

Luffy’s voice is so slurred, his body is tense and so solid but yet somehow he’s still melting. Zoro’s finding it hard to look at him, do anything other than just sit there and hold him, uncomfortable at how he can feel that heat from between Luffy’s legs radiating and blooming condensation on Zoro’s skin. He has absolutely no idea how to even begin to approach this situation. So he’s rough and sloppy as he dresses his friend, his cardigan’s on and his sandals are on and his hat has been slammed over his eyes. But Zoro, teeth gritted, has to shove Luffy’s cock in his jeans himself because this boy is useless like this. He’s silently vowing to never talk or think about this moment again, how sticky his hands now feel, how Luffy moans as he’s touched and leans into Zoro and how his cock twitches with an overpowering need to fuck anything that’s close.

Zoro won’t think about this again. He just picks Luffy up and carries him away without saying a word.

______________________________

You’re just looking out the window. Unmoving sun, unmoving sea. You want to eat or go somewhere and maybe you should’ve begged and made them take you on the island.

Is it the island, or do you just miss Luffy?

But it’s not long before your door is kicked open, you jump, eyes wide, whipping around to find Zoro cradling your boyfriend, who looks sick. Fear shoots through you and closes your throat especially when you see Zoro’s eyes, vacant and upset and he looks dissociated, blank.

“Oh god, Luffy.” You run to him and your hands go to his face and just stroke his cheeks, he’s sweaty and burning up like he’s caught in a deep fever. “What happened?” Your eyes are wild and scared as you turn to Zoro.

“I don’t know what you gave him. Just… deal with it.” Zoro dumps Luffy into your arms and you stumble as he curls up into you, drooling all over your neck. And Zoro gives his shoulder one last squeeze and turns away, closing the door behind him, running off down the hall, somewhere where he can’t hear that crying anymore.

And yes, Luffy’s crying. You set him down on your bed, rubbing the back of his head and holding his hand. “Hey, hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Dunno what’s happening…” Luffy’s eyes are pleading and endlessly deep right now. His legs are kicking against the air and he keeps shifting around, he can’t sit still.

With his free hand he’s rubbing between his legs like he’s scratching an itch, but he doesn’t stop, your gaze follows him and oh, oh fuck. He’s got this tight, obvious hardness in his jeans. Straining so hard the zipper is shaking with tension. You’ve never seen anything like this.

Your mind is racing, this isn’t just horniness, Luffy has never been sexsick like this before.

You trace it all back and nothing was wrong when he left. Just bright eyed innocence, affection, nothing strange. And suddenly it hits you, that box, those chocolates.

Oh god. Oh my god.

You fed him an aphrodisiac. An aphrodisiac from a sketchy shop in an old-town basement, a powerful drug, just one would keep you up a whole night.

And you let Luffy eat them all.

“Lu… god, I’m sorry,” is all you can say as he crawls into your lap and breathes on your face. You take off his hat and ruffle his hair. How can you even explain this to him? He’s not going to understand. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I gave you an aphrodisiac by mistake.” You’re choked up. You hurt him.

“…” Luffy’s mouth is hanging open, drool coating his chin, dazed, so confused. “Hm?” His voice is even gravelier than normal.

“Those weren’t normal chocolates. They make your body… ready for sex? It’s supposed to be a fun thing. B- but I forgot they weren’t just normal chocolates! God, I’m so sorry.” You’re breaking down, you’re cuddling with him now, head on his shoulder.

“Oh.” You can’t really tell how much he understands. And his voice is quiet when he asks, “when’s it gonna go ‘way?”

“…I don’t know. I’m gonna try to help, ok? Let’s fuck for a few hours and get it out. It’s gonna be ok, Lu.”

His pupils expand when you say this, his eyes going from brown to deep black. He wants that so, so bad. He’s just sort of figuring that out now. “Heh, yeah.” He squirms in your lap, cock so hard you can feel his zipper sliding down on its own, as his breath gets heavier, this desperate ball of energy spasming in your arms.

Then he smiles. And he attacks.

He flips you onto your back and groans, hips thrusting into yours as his lips find your mouth, saliva leaking past your lips, you swallow as they part. You’re wearing these soft cotton shorts and you feel his aching cock smacking the fabric as it pushes and strains to break free from his pants with every motion. He moans so loud you know everyone can hear. Now he’s drooling again, spitting on your face because he’s lost control of his jaw, you’re winded but you grab his face and kiss him, he didn’t even know he needed this.

He falls on you now. He’s all splayed out and whining and just kissing you as if he’s been challenged, teeth and tongue working through every part of your mouth. He’s loud when he kisses, and now every breath is a groan of want.

“Undress me…” you whisper to him, grabbing the back of his neck, he seems like he’ll explode if he keeps on like this without being deep inside you.

With a strangled “Mh,” Luffy’s fingernails scrape your skin in a desperate attempt to pull off your dress. He’s ripping cloth, damn, you can hear him ripping cloth. Nothing you can do now.

But you can tell as your skin shines bare and he tears his own clothes from his body, as his sweat drenches you and that heat like a tropical hurricane all over but especially where it pools between his legs and oh you’d be scared if you looked there now, you can tell he’s about to just go in you with no thought or reason and harder than he’s ever gone before. So — and you hate to do this — you grab his shoulders. You stare him in the eyes.

“Luffy. Listen to me.”

your eyes reach his soul, he tries to look at you with anything close to coherence, he wants to follow your lead, he doesn’t understand anything right now. But there’s a hailstorm inside his mind. But he tries to listen.

“Don’t be too rough, please, can you promise?” Your voice is shaky because you’re not sure what he’s about to do. Luffy would never intentionally hurt you but he’s powerful, his body is strange, he works in ways neither of you understand. He has the power to really, really damage you and the carelessness to not see it happening. So you beg him with your eyes.

“I promise,” he gasps softly, one hand curling behind your neck, and he presses his face against your cheek, trying to harden his eyes in the gentle seriousness of the moment. Luffy is incapable of feeling sadism towards you of any kind and he’s at war with his body and the energy bursting within him right now. But he promises.

You smile and your feet rest on his hips and thighs, you feel him sizzling beneath your touch. The surface of his skin wavers before your eyes from the heat, you understand now the idea of mirages, he looks covered in amber rain even as his skin burns beneath your hands.

“Slow,” you ask softly in his ear, making Luffy whine in hunger.

There it is. What you don’t dare look at you can feel. Swollen and throbbing it feels like a whole other animal is just clawing there beneath that rice paper skin. You can feel his heartbeat in the tip of his cock as he touches you and it speeds up thousands of times in an instant. His thighs clamp around yours and his nails are sharp and Luffy groans in your ear. He’s made of nerve endings that send him twitching writhing with every tiny movement. He needs you now.

He pushes himself in and every bit of friction sends him convulsing against you, squeezing you tighter. You can feel the struggle in his muscles to hold back but that deep, tangible yearning for relief. He’s in and you’re both gasping for air. You’re not used to the size or the heat or that artificially induced power that’s overcome his body. But you’re proud of him and you tug his hair to tell him a quiet thank you, you’re ok, he’s keeping you safe.

All your touches are too much. His hips move messily against you like he doesn’t have the capacity to understand what to do right now. But he’s just going to follow that deep primal craving so he rocks into you with all his weight, crushing you again and again, eyes closed, mouth trying to find yours.

It’s the movement but also the way you’re being held. It’s a scary heaven. He’s going deep and he’s not pulling out just throwing himself against you over and over as if there’s any more he has to go. He’s whimpering and his body is shaking in need.

But he goes faster and now this is what you’re scared of, weighted rubber moves and stretches with momentum, he’s squeezing you tighter and tighter and with each slam against your body his cock buries into you so impossibly deep as his skin stretches and snaps within you. You whine and try to steady him but Luffy’s in this cloud right now. His teeth are digging deep into your neck and he’s drooling all over you, saliva dripping down your shoulder and chest.

When he cums it’s so hot it feels like lava. There’s so much of it. That relief at the slowness, liquid soothing beaten flesh, that’s heaven as you lay beneath him, wrapped in his arms. Is it over? No, no it isn’t.

But first, while he’s stunned and unable to move, you squish his face in your hands. “Luffy,” you breathe heavily into his mouth, “be more gentle. Please. You’re gonna hurt me.”

His eyes are wide and concerned. “I hurt you?” he whimpers from his swollen, shiny lips.

“I’m ok, don’t worry, just please be more gentle.” And you smile at him. That sets something off in his heart and you feel him harden again inside you.

He grins, lifting you back so you’re pressed against his chest, on his lap. And he shoves you down against him as you squirm in his arms, he rolls your hips on his as his strong hands take total control of your body, hungry eyes gazing at you with deep, immeasurable lust. From this new position he has so much control, he’s using your body for his release in as loving a way as possible, biting at your skin. You’re left to twitch in his grasp and hug him, letting yourself bask in this incredible tsunami.

The bouncing and stretching of his cock isn’t as bad in this position although you’re still impossibly full, limp in the overwhelming motion. But that heat is becoming uncomfortable, your cheek from its rest on his shoulder is covered in layers of sweat and you feel it pooling around every point of contact. He smells like burning rubber and thick, palpable sweat. His skin begins to sear your hands and you only realize what’s happening when he starts to steam. Billowing steam clouding your room and soaking you in hot, wet air like you’re in an erupting volcano. You’re not sure which gear he’s changing to and you don’t want to find out.

“LUFFY!” You yell through your haze and hit his back and it’s so hard to talk to him like this, his moans are drowning out your cries, he’s moving faster and faster and his hair and mouth and the area between your legs is already lost in clouds of white steam. “STOP!”

He yelps and rolls off of you. Your words cut his heart. You’re both drenched and your bed is soaking, your hair in your eyes dripping down your face mixed with tears you didn’t even know were there. Luffy looks confused, disoriented, he’s still steaming but it’s slowing now, his skin is dulling to its usual hue, his hair falls back over his face. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You were changing gears,” you murmur under your breath. “Luffy, that could’ve been bad.”

“I’m- I’m sorry…” he whimpers and looks down at himself. There’s still a cloud of blinding steam circling up the shaft of his cock, blooming from his tip and shimmering in droplets rolling down the red, tight skin. He looks at you with puppy eyes, needing your arms again.

You let him crawl to you. You let him place his head under your hand to be pet and comforted. He feels terrible but he feels sick, too, a sickness only cured by the deepest and most indescribable pleasure. He’s melting in your arms, as needy as when he was given to you, eyes blurry. You let him rest his head in your lap and drink in your scent, blankets tucked between his legs for the slightest friction.

“It’ll feel better if you don’t go so fast,” you say softly, stroking his wet hair. And he nods.

“Can I have more now? I’ll be better to ya. I really promise.”

His hands feel gentler now. You let him climb your body and capture you in another deep kiss. And with your legs crossed behind his back you let him fuck you again and chase his second orgasm and he’s right, he’s better now. He’s fighting with his body but he’s better.

When he cums again it feels boiling hot. It’s shot after shot deep inside you and he tugs your hair, bites your shoulder, strokes your lower stomach before moving down to rub at your clit which is incredible because he never thinks of that. This drug is making him different, his mind is overwhelmed by sex in a way it never is. Part of you likes it a lot. It’s new. It’s fun.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s hard again and dragging his cock through your walls in deep, deliberate strokes with his tongue in your mouth. Luffy is a million miles above the earth. With every orgasm his world shakes and crumbles for an instant before it’s rebuilt again in waves of desire that send him higher, higher. He’s a million miles above the earth and even as hours slip by and his body is drained again and again, he can’t come down.

__________________________

At some point the ship has set sail again. Clouds crawl by the porthole and the ocean rocks you both but you and Luffy stay in that soaked bed and get lost in each other for so long that you don’t even know what’s real anymore. You can’t tell sensation from sensation. Neither can he but he can’t come down.

There was that perfect sweet spot where you had just swam in each other in bliss and peace. You didn’t have to stop his gear changes anymore because his body had adjusted to this new universe. And you were in tune with each other. But now, now it’s bad again.

But in a different way.

Luffy is exhausted but so desperate still. His tears have started again and he doesn’t know what to do and he can’t even move and every part of his body aches. You’ve never seen him like this during sex, he’s never weak or tired. But his body is drained.

But that drug won’t let go.

“You ok?” you’re whispering, hand on his face. You lift Luffy in your arms and place him on his back. His eyes won’t leave yours, he’s starry eyed and love struck through his tears.

“Mh…” is all you can make out. He looks down at himself, his body is dripping wet and his cock is hard again, throbbing hard in overstimulation.

Every touch seems like it’s painful to him now. But he wants more so, so bad. So you place a pillow under his head, you curl up against his body, and you rub him with your hand. Your arm gets tired but you keep going for as long as you possibly can. And sometimes Luffy will open his mouth in a silent, breathless moan, sometimes his body will convulse and his cock will twitch. But his orgasms are dry now. There’s nothing left in him.

The last one, that’s when he grabs your face. With his last bit of strength he rolls onto you and clutches your cheeks in his hands and just stares at you, not letting you move, his thighs squeezing your leg. He rubs himself off on you one last time and with a final shudder he’s done. It’s all gone. It’s over.

He collapses into your arms, too tired to breathe anymore. You expect him to just sleep right there but instead he twists onto his back, batting at your face with his palm lazily, playfully. He giggles. He looks dreamy and dazed. But happy, actually. Really happy.

“Feeling alright?” You’re worried. You’re guilty, still. You’re praying nothing hurt him or made him sick.

“Mhm. Feel good!” Luffy’s beaming as if he already forgot everything that happened. He’s glowing, chest rising and falling heavily. But he tilts his head questioningly, “you?”

“Yeah. Just sore.” To which he rolls onto his elbows, kicking his legs in the air, he holds your body, he gives your hips a soft kiss. He’s appreciative, he’s so soft now, honey skin glowing in the sleepy sunshine.

But everything is wet. Your clothes on the bed next to you, the sheets, your bodies and hair. So with your arms around his shoulders, because it will be hard to walk for a while, the two of you throw on robes and step outside. You forgot the smell of fresh sea air after that mist of sex and sweat. Luffy’s heart beats against yours, calm and healthy, steady.

He sets you down and you take him in your arms, now, laying him against the mast. You take a towel to his hair, drying him, the sun on the wind sending the dewdrops you’re made of falling away from your shoulders in rainbows. You’re glittering, you and Luffy.

You should get you both some food soon, you should give yourselves a real bath, you should go and comfort Zoro and assure him that you’re both ok. But not yet. You don’t want that yet.

You avoid the eyes of the others as they pass below. You don’t want to talk about this with anyone but Luffy right now, the boy who looks like an angel resting below you, chiseled glistening body, sunlight divinity. He opens his mouth, he kisses your fingertips as you brush hair from his cheeks.

He wants to talk to you at first but he finds that his eyes are too heavy. He just yawns instead, and bares his teeth in a smile. And he holds your hand tightly with this deep, profound gratitude. You hear him whisper, beneath his breath, that he loves you.

#luffy x reader smut #one piece smut #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy smut #aphrodisiac luffy #luffy x f!reader

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exhaslo · 5 months

Text

Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1 of who knows how many parts :)

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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The heavy sound of rain flood the streets of Nueva York. The dim street lights felt faded as the mist blocked their glow. Despite the downpour that washed the streets, the stench of blood still lingered. A foul odor that could never truly be cleaned from this city.

Nueva York was riddled with crime. Each part of the city was owned and govern by their own mafia. Drugs, alcohol and fights were always a topic and always a cause to stay indoors. Only the smart stayed away from the mafia. They were the ones to survive this city unscathed. They were the ones to avoid trouble.

You had just moved into the city, unaware of its true face, nor did you really have a choice. You were desperate to get away from your old life. Despite for a fresh start. So much so, that you landed in one of the worst parts of the city. The place you rented was small, but it was enough to keep you hidden.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you near cried at the sight of a roach. Tears threaten to spill as you sprayed the roach spray against the foul creature for dear life. You had just moved into the place. You were warned by your friends and family of the filth of the city, but they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain you were in.

"Ew, ew!" You whined as you grabbed the broom, throwing the roach away.

Once you were freed from that horrid task, you continued to clean and unpack. You double checked everything for roaches and mice, wanting to sleep soundly for once. You shuddered at the thought as you pulled out old photographs of your high school days. Within those pictures was the cause of your depature.

Your ex.

You had fled your hometown due to your abusive ex-boyfriend, Eddie Brock. The man was so kind to you at first, treating you well until you officially started dating. Your college life was cut short due to his beatings and yelling. You were always at fault. You could never be good enough for him. You were always the problem.

The thought made you sob. You moved to this city on a whim thanks to your small job. You just wanted to stop living in that hell. Everyone loved your ex. They never truly saw what he was. They never even asked how you were.

"I-I need to s-stop crying." You whispered to yourself as you looked out the window, "I-I have work tomorrow. I...I need to be ready."

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Meanwhile, a few blocks over, Miguel was sitting before his large patio, watching the rain. He held a glass of vodka in his hand, watching the lightening brighten the sky more than the city lights itself. He inhaled to the loud roar of thunder before being interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Que? (What)" He hissed lowly. Lyla smiled as she walked over with a folder, placing them on his desk,

"Just something for the morning." She chirped and approached the door, "There's another one waiting outside. Shall I send her in?"

"Ha, and get some fake praises. She can only come in if she wants a quick fuck. I won't deal with gold diggers." Miguel grumbled.

Lyla just hummed in response before shutting the door. Miguel could only groan in annoyance as he placed his glass down. His night would have been better off alone. Closing the blinds to his patio, Miguel approached his desk to the file. It was going to be another long day tomorrow.

---------

There was a scurry to your step as you tried to please your new boss. It was your first day working in the chain supermarket, and you were stressed. This version of your old job was far busier, louder and ruder than what you were used to. You were a shy and quiet person, so having so many people yell and pull you around was breaking you.

"(Y/N)! Deli needs a hand, you ever did that?" One of your coworkers asked. You flinched at the sudden yell,

"I-I have helped packaged an-"

"Good enough, go help and put a kick in it!"

You just agreed and hurried to the deli. You grabbed a hair net and gasped lowly at your fellow coworkers there. They were all so tall and mean looking. You were like a deer in headlights the moment they saw you enter their kitchen. You just bowed your head slightly and quietly made your way to the meat wrapping station.

"Why'd they put her here? She don't know anything yet," One of the taller men whispered. You're ears perked up since whispers weren't exactly in their volcabulary,

"She's a scaredy cat. Ain't nothing comin' outta her mouth. Same like the rest of us,"

You wanted to ask them what they were talking about, but you were too scared to find out. That, and you learned the harsh lesson of minding your own business. Dear ol' Eddie gave you that cruel lesson. Shaking your head at the thought, you didn't want to be known as the employee who cried on their first day.

"Hey, new kid," One of your coworkers called out, approaching you, "Yer new here, so let me warn you. We got three freezers in the deli. One is full of the fresh meat we get. Leave that to us big guys. You can enter the second freezer with the small cuts for the customers. The third freezer, you never enter. Don't ask questions about it. Don't peak into it. Just pretend it never exists. Oh, and don't make eye contact with those who enter it."

"Okay,"

Hell fucking no. You were going to stay far away from dear freezer number three. That was a lot more information than you even wanted to hear. Hell, you weren't a fan of entering freezer number two. Once your coworkers were reassured by your understanding, they returned to work.

Your hands trembled over your station as you tried to focus on your job with the seven men yelling around you. This was your sad new life. You had to get used to this. You were either going to make it in the city or die trying.

--------

Miguel lazily glanced out his window seat, spotting the upcoming supermarket. There was a rumble in his throat as he leaned back in his seat. His men tailing behind him in different cars. Miguel told his driver to stop, wanting to walk the rest of the way while his men parked around back.

"Peter, take our guest into the freezer. I'm going to make a pit stop at the deli," Miguel said over the phone.

"Miguel, we talked about this. You're the boss, let us handle the work." Peter tried reasoning over the phone.

Miguel wasn't even paying attention. He hung up and proceeded to enter the supermarket. His presence alone made the managers cower and the workers silent. Of course, none of the regular customers knew anything. None of them suspected that he, Miguel O'Hara, CEO of Alchemax, was the leader of the Spider Mafia. One of the biggest and ruthless mafia in town.

"The usual?" One of the deli men questioned. Miguel glanced over his shoulder, noticing you shaking like a leaf while avoiding your coworkers,

"And they say I'm cruel. New hire?"

"Transfer from out of town," The man replied.

Miguel raised a brow towards you. You were pale in the face as you apologized for getting in people's way. Miguel couldn't help but snort. It was cute. Something he was not used too. Returning his attention to the deli worker, Miguel could only smirk as he watched his men drag their guest into freezer number three.

"The bird needs to be plucked." Was all Miguel said for the man to understand.

-------

You whimpered softly as you moved away from everyone's path. It had gotten far too busy for your liking. Once you caught a break, you noticed the deli supervisor talking to a handsome man. You tilted your head, stealing a glance. The man was tall and gorgeous. He wore a slick all black suit. Something very fancy for this part of town.

The man took notice of you and smiled. Your cheeks immediately started to heat up as you quickly returned to your job. As you did, you noticed some men enter the third freezer. You paled instantly. It was your first day! Biting you lower lip, you tried to focus on your work. Right as you did, you noticed the handsome man from earlier walk by you and towards the freezer,

"Keep up the good work, conejita (bunny)." He whispered.

You felt your heart race as the door shut. His voice was so deep and low. If only he hadn't entered the freezer. Perhaps, you would have gotten to know him as a regular.

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Next Chapter!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

Note

Hey love I absolutely love your fics 🥰 I was wondering if you could write a dark toxic romance for Lando or Charles or even Logan where she’s the girl next door??? I love you keep it up ❤️

Crazy For You || LN4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 4k Part one || part two || part three || part four

It had been two months since you moved into your apartment in Monaco and you still hadn’t managed to introduce yourself to your neighbour. He kept strange hours and seemed to be away more than he was there. From what you had glimpsed, you had been delighted to see he was probably around your age and quite handsome in an innocent way. Mr Riley on the other hand was a stoic old man who only spoke to you when your cat climbed over the balcony and into his space.

Known for its year-round beauty and calm climate, Monaco had welcomed you with a comfortable breeze and enough sun to warrant leaving the house without a jacket, even at dusk on a winter's night. If you had checked the weather reports you would have seen that a storm was quickly blowing in from the coast - arriving by the time you had finished having a few cocktails with your new friends.

Christmas lights twinkled around the shop fronts as you exited the bar and nutcrackers stood proud in doorways. You always loved Christmas and seeing the smiles it put on children’s faces but there were no children out this late.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Luke asked as he twirled his keys around his finger. “It’s about to start raining.”

“She’s good,” someone answered for you and you looked over to see your elusive neighbour at your side, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back. “I can take her home.”

“You didn’t tell us Lando was picking you up.”

Your mouth was dry and you didn’t know what to say as the liquor, or his presence, left you confused. Lando, you stored that piece of information away and tried to figure out why it sounded so familiar.

“I was just out doing some Christmas shopping and about to head home,” he said with a smile. “Ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled as you let him guide you away from your friends.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked with a frown. “You don’t look comfortable. Do you even know him?”

“Kind of, I’m just surprised,” you assured him. “Lando is my neighbour.”

“Okay, well, text me when you get home.”

You gave Luke a nod and waved to the others before going your separate ways.

“Are you cold?” Lando asked, already slipping his arms out of the jacket he wore over a dark hoodie.

The alcohol had made you numb to the temperature but you let him drape it over your shoulders anyway, wrapping you in the decadent scent that came along with it.

“Thanks.”

“Any time, it’s what neighbours do.”

“I don’t think Mr Riley would,” you teased.

“The grumpy old guy in 4C? We just call him Carl, like the movie Up.”

You smiled awkwardly and toyed with the zip on the jacked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” He pulled you to a stop and grabbed your shoulders with a serious look on his face. “This just won’t do. I cannot be seen with someone who hasn’t watched Up!”

“Oh,” you mumbled as you started to take off his jacket and hand it back.

“What are you doing, you muppet?” He grabbed the jacket and put it back on your shoulders before opening the door to a very expensive looking car.

“I thought you meant…”

“It’s fine, I have tinted windows,” he teased. “As soon as we get home though, we’re watching the movie.”

Lando followed you inside without an invitation but you could hardly turn him away with his boyish smile and mop of curly hair that sprung out of his hoodie when he pushed it back. “This makes sense,” he chuckled as he stuck his head in the bedroom, pointing to the wall that your bed was pushed against. “Our apartments are mirrored. I thought I woke up to a voice a few times. Do you watch Friends?”

Your head tilted at the odd question. “Why do you ask?”

“You sing ‘smelly cat’ a lot.”

Mortification hit you and you felt your face burn as you turned to the culprit walking through your house with a loud purr. “That’s Eddie. Do you have any pets?”

“No, I’m always travelling for work and I’m not very good at looking after myself let alone another living thing. Do you actually know how to use those things?”

You looked at the kitchen where he was pointing to the appliances. You had planned to make some Christmas cookies over the weekend and had the stand mixer ready on the benchtop. You thought he was joking but he was genuinely intrigued by the inquisitive look of wonder on his face. “Cooking relaxes me,” you said with a shrug. “You probably have plans already but if you want to come over and-”

“Absolutely, say no more, I’m in.” He crossed the living room and dropped into the middle cushion of the three seater sofa and patted the space beside him with one hand, the other reaching for the remote. “You do have Disney+, right?”

“You really do like to make yourself comfortable, don’t you,” you joked as you took a seat beside him.

“I’ve been told I can be a bit much,” he said with a small frown, placing the remote down. “Should I go?”

“No, no, I appreciate the company,” you said as you caught his arm to stop him from going. “Being alone in a new country is a little isolating, it’s nice having someone here.”

He settled back into the seat and sent you a grin as he searched for the movie. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, you can just knock three times.”

The weeks before Christmas were a madhouse. Work kept you busy as well as the many requests to go home for the holidays, but it just wasn’t going to be feasible to take leave so soon after starting. You knew your parents were going to be disappointed but you promised them you weren’t going to be alone for Christmas.

You had eventually found out why Lando’s name was so familiar when Luke explained who he was and why he was away so often. But since the race season was over he had plenty of time to spend at home, yours and his.

Just like every other evening, you knocked three times on the living room wall knowing Lando would be able to hear it despite the special Christmas Eve stream he was on. It was the last one of the year and he wished everyone a Merry Christmas before the live feed of him playing Counter Strike came to an end.

“Ouch, Eddie, fuck,” Lando swore a few minutes later as he knocked at your door. “Stop it.”

You opened the door to the frequent occurrence and took the hissing Eddie from his outstretched arms before he could get clawed again. Your ginger cat seemed to hate Lando for some reason, or maybe it was because he was always bringing the escapee back home to you.

“I think you should just move in with me,” Lando joked as he followed the mouthwatering scent into your kitchen. He came to your house for dinner most nights after finding Eddie on his balcony and usually stayed for a movie. That routine had changed slightly when the movie he chose one night was Friends With Benefits. There had been a moment after a sex scene when you both looked across at each other and the idea had passed between your eyes.

He cleared his throat and you realised you had been staring at him for too long. “Eddie likes my place better.”

It clicked, he wasn’t actually asking you to move in with him. But for a moment you had considered it.

“Right, Eddie,” you laughed at your idiocracy. “I really don’t know how he keeps getting out. I must be going crazy because I’m sure I locked the window this morning.”

You both looked at the window that opened onto the balcony, the skies dark with another storm. “Maybe your cat is a genius and learned how to open it?”

You rolled your eyes but managed a laugh at his attempt to make you feel better while you readied two plates and took them to the table where he sat. “Maybe I should change his name to Houdini.”

“Better than Ed the Ginger.” Lando grinned as he pulled you onto his lap and scooped up a dollop of creamy mash potato with his forefinger, holding it up to your mouth. You sealed your lips around his finger and swirled your tongue around the tip, watching the blue of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. “Naughty girl, you’ll be getting coal this year.”

Your head fell back with a laugh.“Who are you? Santa Claus?”

“Well, you are sitting on my lap, aren’t you?” He winked and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Wanna see my North Pole?”

“Oh my god, eat your dinner,” you giggled. “We still have to watch A Christmas Carol and Nightmare Before Christmas!”

You had both written a list of all the Christmas movies you wanted to watch and they were the last two left. It was just in time as midnight was going to come all too soon and you wanted to be tucked up warm in bed when the storm hit.

A loud crash had you jolting awake and you blindly reached across the bed in search of Lando to find it empty. Panic gripped you as you wondered if you were being broken into and a scream almost erupted when your light flipped on and Lando rushed in soaking wet.

“Holy shit, you’ll never believe what just happened!”

You stumbled into the living room where Lando threw an arm out to save you from stepping on the glass that covered the floor. The doors that opened out onto your balcony had been completely shattered during the storm and you shivered as the cold wind and rain blew straight into your home. A huge puddle was quickly spreading across the carpet and it was making its way to the Christmas tree in the far corner while you were still in shock.

“The presents!”

Lando twisted away from the pot plant that had been on your balcony wall, now it lay on the floor with the dirt turning to mud. Seeing the urge you had to cut across the glass, he shook his head and pointed to the kitchen where you would remain safe. “I’ll get them.”

Lando carefully navigated his way to the tree, turning off the power to the glittering lights, and bundled the gifts up before hopping his way back with a wince. The wrapping paper on some of the presents were splattered with rain drops but most seemed in perfect condition when he placed them on the kitchen bench.

“You’re bleeding,” you gasped as he balanced on one foot and you wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Can you make it there?”

He nodded and limped with your help away from the mess. “I think you should come and stay at my place until the doors can be fixed.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out the small sliver of glass in his foot. “I can just get a hotel.”

“Ouch,” he groaned as it came free and blood welled at the site. “Not on Christmas Day, everywhere will be fully booked. I really don’t mind. It would save you from having to pack a bag.”

“If you’re sure…”

He smiled at the silly Spider-Man bandaid you placed over the wound before running the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I am.”

You shivered at his cold touch and remembered how wet he was when you woke up. “What were you doing up anyway?”

He bit his lip and looked away sheepishly. “I was putting a present under the tree when a flower pot blew through the door.”

“Oh, wow, that wind must be insane. I hope all the boats are safe out there,” you mused, knowing some people lived on the mariner. “Wait, you got me another present? Lando, there’s already too many.”

“I wanted to spoil you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “You have single handedly kept me fed for weeks. You may have put a few restaurants out of business too.”

“You weren’t that bad were you?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. After testing his foot he took your hand and led you back to the presents to find a thin box that hadn’t been under the tree when you went to bed. “It’s after midnight, you know, you could open it.”

You took the box, surprised by the weight it had, and untied the pretty bow on top. The delicate silver writing drew a gasp and you looked at Lando with wide eyes. “Tiffany? I can’t open this, it’s too much.”

“Go on,” he urged as he placed your hand on top of the lid and gave it a squeeze. “Please, for me.”

Your fingers slipped twice as you tried to open the hinge and Lando’s hand enveloped yours, lifting it open to reveal the beautiful necklace within. The teardrop gemstone was the same shade as his eyes and it hung from a white gold chain that was polished to shine impossibly bright, even in the dim light.

“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe as he lifted it up and stepped behind you to drape it around your neck. The weight of the stone settled in the centre of your chest and you turned to face him with a sincere, “Thank you.”

“So..?” He bit his lip as he showed you the empty box, a question written in the silk lining. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

It wasn’t until the week after New Years that a glazier would be able to fix your doors. The holidays had left a backlog of people needing repairs but supply chains had been delayed too. Once the doors were finally fixed you realised the carpet was beyond repair and that took another week to have done.

It was strange to go back home after nearly three weeks of living in Lando’s apartment. It was too quiet.

“Babe, have you seen my hairbrush?” You had looked through the bathroom drawers he had cleared out for you to use but there was nothing left. You went back to your apartment and did another search but it wasn’t there either. It wasn’t the first thing you had lost going back and forth and you were beginning to worry.

“I’m sure it will turn up somewhere, love,” Lando said as he paused his game and turned to his friend in the simulator behind him. “Max probably used it.”

“Did not,” his friend replied with an indignant splutter. “Didn’t I see you singing into a hairbrush?”

“You’ve been experimenting with drugs again,” Lando snorted. With a resigned sigh, you decided your hair was decent enough to get away with at work and Lando tipped his head back so you could give him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll order dinner tonight. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” you said as you gave Max a wave on the way to the door. “Try not to let him sit there all day, you know how his back gets.”

“Yes, yes, Lando has an old man’s back. I’ll make sure he moves his ass at some point,” Max joked. “Have fun at work.”

You screwed up your face at the sarcasm and their laughs followed you out of the apartment. You weren’t sure they had actually moved all day as they were still in the same spots when you got home. You had crossed paths with the delivery man in the lobby and your arms were laden with the takeaway Lando had ordered.

“How many spring rolls did you order?” you murmured as you kept unpacking more and more of the small styrofoam boxes with the treat.

“He’s going for a record,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. Ten minutes later Lando groaned, holding his stomach tightly. “I told you to stop.”

You had quickly showered and changed into some comfortable clothes and found most of the boxes empty when you joined them at the table. “How many has he had?”

“18, and he’s got no chance,” Max bet, reaching over to steal a spring roll for himself and swiping it through the sweet chilli sauce. “You’ll thank me later. Ah, fuck.” Max looked down at the red blotch on his white Quadrant shirt before sauntering off down the hall. “Mate, do you have any more stain remover? This one’s empty.”

“Yeah, under the sink there should be another bottle,” Lando yelled back, dropping his fork onto his plate in defeat. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Why the hell do you have cat food?” Max appeared in the living room with the same brand of pet food you bought for your cat.

“That’s not mine, obviously.”

You looked at Lando, who was rubbing his full stomach and as reclined back as much as the chair would allow. “It’s not mine.”

“You brought it over during the storm, remember?”

“No I didn’t.” You hadn’t wanted to disrupt Eddie’s routine and fed him at home each morning before work.

“Yes, you did.” He laughed as he tapped your temple gently. “You have a terrible memory, love. You can’t even remember where you left your hairbrush.”

You didn’t have an argument for that, since you still hadn’t found it. You were sure you hadn’t brought any cat food over, but maybe he was right. You did seem to be a little confused lately.

“I think I need an early night,” you admitted as you cleaned up the dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying?” Lando asked with a pout as he joined you at the sink, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppered your neck with soft kisses. “Who am I going to cuddle with?”

“I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind a snuggle,” you teased him as you turned in his arms. “I have an early start tomorrow but I can stay tomorrow night.”

He groaned at the thought of sleeping alone and held you tighter so he could have you in his arms a little longer. “Fine,” he huffed, relinquishing his hold on you and filling the kettle. “I’ll make you a chamomile tea so you sleep better.”

You smiled at his sweetness and savoured a few more minutes of kisses before the water boiled and he scooped out a few spoons of some boutique tea leaf mix he swore was the best sleep tea money could buy. Given how rich he was, you believed him.

Placing the hot mug in your hand, he bit his swollen lip and nodded to the front door. “Go before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he winked. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”

Something disturbed your sleep and you rubbed your eyes as you woke up well before your alarm. You reached for the lamp beside your bed and accidently knocked into the cup of tea you hadn’t finished before falling asleep, the cold liquid sloshing over the side before you caught it and froze.

Your bedroom door creaked open but it was too dark to see who it was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to think of what to do before the shadow reached the edge of your bed. Your throat was so clogged with fear you couldn’t even scream, your hands trembled and closed them into fists before banging on the wall behind you, begging Lando would wake up at the sound.

Bang, bang, bang.

The figure lunged onto the bed, pinning you down with their weight and slamming your fists into the mattress. “Shh, love, it’s me.”

You relaxed as Lando’s voice soothed you, but the fear soon crept back up your spine with an icy shiver. “How did you get in here?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he whispered as your wrists began to ache from the hold he had. “I was coming to check in on you.”

“No, I didn’t,” you said as you tried to shake him off. “I know I locked it. I know…I…I’m not crazy. Get off me, get off me right now.”

“You were meant to be asleep, love,” he groaned as his hands tightened to the point a pained cry escaped your gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered as he kissed your neck, but you couldn’t feel anything but repulsion.

“You should have just moved in with me, we are meant to be together.”

“You’re crazy,” you spat as you tried to buck your hips and throw him off but he was too strong. “Help! Somebody, help!”

His hand clamped over your mouth and you bit him as hard as you could before kicking and climbing away.

“I’m not the crazy one, that’s you, love,” he laughed. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re sick, but I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“You are fucking insane!”

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m trying to help you, remember?”

You froze in the doorway as you saw a cutout of your key on the kitchen bench, along with your hairbrush, phone, a negligee and dressing gown. All things you had been convinced you had lost in the last few weeks.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeated as you backed away from your boyfriend. He was someone you had trusted, someone you thought had fit perfectly into your new life - but he had been messing with you this whole time. Max and the cat food came to mind. “Eddie…he used to go to Mr Riley’s house.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Lando tutted with a shake of his head as he took a step closer, “not when he was going to help me get close to you.”

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer to me!”

“Baby, don’t be like that, let’s just go back to bed. You’re under a lot of stress, let me make you a chamomile tea.”

You swiped your phone up as you bolted but he was quicker and blocked the front door, holding his hand out. “Give that to me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” you hissed as you started to dial the emergency number.

“It’s you they will take away,” he said with a blase shrug that made you pause. “Everyone knows how unstable you have become.”

“Me?” you shrieked.

“You’re barely holding it together now. They aren’t going to believe anything you say.” He opened his arms as if to say, I’m famous and you are no one. Unfortunately, he was right. “Come on, love, let’s go back to bed.”

He took the phone from your limp hand and locked it before slipping it into his pocket. You were so confused that you had no idea what to do when he guided you back to the bed, turning the sheets down before tucking you in gently. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead and handed you the cold mug. “Drink up, baby, this is all just a bad dream.”

Click here for the next morning.

#dark!lando #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster -

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

#wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #capslocked kinkvember

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pathologicalreid · 6 months

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fluorescent | S.R.

in which spencer rambles about rocks and you get distracted

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

request: yes!

@midnight--raine: could i please have a spence x female!reader where one day they're having a conversation and obviously he starts rambling about some facts or something and the reader kinda zones out while he's talking because shes so focused on the way he gets so passionate about what he's talking about and suddenly she's staring at his lips and is overcome with a POWERFUL urge to kiss the life outta him.

content warnings: kissing, concussion, that's it, this is really just fluffy.

word count: 758

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope to update my pinned post to mention requests soon. I hope you enjoy!

“It’s actually really interesting to see if you ever get the chance,” Spencer told you from his chair. “It’s been discovered that over five hundred minerals fluoresce when they’re exposed to ultraviolet light.”

Both you and Spencer had been left out of the takedown of the unsub. Him because he was still using a cane to get around and you because you were recovering from a concussion, and Hotch didn’t believe you when you said you were fine. Typical.

You sighed and hoisted yourself up so you were sitting on the edge of a desk in the local police station, tilting your head to the side while you watched Spencer talk about rocks. All you had done was ask him if he knew what his birthstone was, and you completely lost him while he started rambling about fluorescent minerals.

It was one of those connections between topics that you’d have to be inside Spencer’s head to fully understand how he had gotten from point A to point B.

It was endearing, the way he got so passionate about things. He didn’t even have a degree in geology, and yet he knew so much about minerals like fluorite and calcite. It wasn’t even what he was saying to you found so captivating, it was how he was saying it.

Spencer had a tendency to speak with his hands, the bigger the movements, the more excited he was to be telling someone about the subject. So, if he was nearly knocking things over with enthusiasm, who were you to interrupt him?

Suddenly, his hands stilled, and your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Y/N, are you okay? Is it your head?” He asked leaning ever so slightly closer to you, as if you were two children sharing a secret.

Your face burned as your skin flushed, but Spencer didn’t seem to notice. “I’m alright, Spence. What were you saying about the color?” You urged him to keep going, keeping your question vague enough so that he wouldn’t be able to tell you had gotten so distracted by his ardor.

He pursed his lips for a moment before they parted again, “common opal doesn’t have any iridescence. Most fluorescent common opal is considered amorphous.” He told you, quickly jumping back into his topic of choice.

Smiling, you watched him talk as the words started to float over your head again. Specifically, you watched the way his lips moved as he shared the information with you. Sometimes, he stumbled over his words because his mind was moving faster than his mouth could. You felt honored every time he shared a part of his brain with you.

The fact was, Spencer Reid has pretty lips. They were a pretty pink color, the kind of color that people wanted as lipstick but could never find an exact duplicate of. They were soft. At least, they looked soft.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Spencer never talked about relationships as openly as the rest of the team, especially not the way Morgan did. Very quickly, you realized you had no idea how he would react if you kissed him. Would he pull away? Would he push you away? Would he kiss back?

Spencer was still talking about opals when you moved closer to him, set your hands on his shoulders, and pressed your lips to his.

A soft, surprised noise came from the back of his throat before he kissed you back. He reached his hands up, so they were resting on your waist, no higher and no lower.

It was no small victory that you discovered his lips were as soft as you thought they were. Under your hands, you felt that his heart was pounding as hard as yours was. His lips parted slightly under yours and he pulled you closer to him.

A small crash caused you to jump away from where he was sitting, in your peripheral vision, you could see that his cane had fallen to the ground. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, wide-eyed and still trying to catch your breath. “Thank you,” he breathed, not taking his eyes off of yours.

“I- For what?” You asked, appalled at the fact that you had done something so brazen, potentially ruining one of your closest friendships.

You crouched down and picked up his cane, as you handed it to him, he elected to answer your question, “No one’s ever asked me to shut up so nicely before.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #written by margot

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

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I Want It All: Part 1

Part 2, Part 3; AO3 Link

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Flirting, Light Angst, Longing

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It's easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can't pretend anymore?

A/N: This turned into a monstrosity. For my own sanity I need to break it up into three parts. I also apologize in advanced, the stuff in the preview won’t pop up until part 2. And please, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 4.8K

The day really couldn’t decide whether it was going to be terrible or tolerable.

On the one hand, it had been pouring rain for hours, leaving you and your party drenched as you searched for some place dry to sleep. On the other hand, you were able to find an inn with more than enough rooms to accommodate all of you. On the other, other hand, rooms cost money, something that was in short supply.

“How much does that make?” Karlach asked, placing her share into the pile.

Gale counted out the coins. “Enough for our own rooms, but not much in the way of food.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Hold on, this can’t be right. Who forgot to pitch in?”

All eyes turned suspiciously to Astarion.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I put down enough for the room. Food is something…you all have to deal with.”

Lae’zel gave him a hard look, the threat obvious on her features.

“We could always share a room or two,” Shadowheart cut in. “That will at least hold us over until we can find a way to make more coin.”

A devilish smirk formed on the vampire’s lips as his eyes turned to you. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Certainly would make it easier for me to get a little midnight snack.”

You gave a theatrical sigh. “Not tonight dear. I have a headache.”

“Teasing minx.”

“Can the pair of you not for ten seconds?” Wyll complained.

You bit back a laugh, turning your gaze to the dining area of the tavern. Gods you could smell something delicious cooking over the fireplace. When was the last time you had a proper hot meal?

It was then you turned your eyes to one of the empty corners. The solution to the issue of food suddenly became obvious.

“Not to worry everyone,” you announced, swiping the coins from Gale’s hand. “Dinner is on me.”

Before anyone could speak, you stepped towards the bar, making a point to put on your best smile.

A elderly halfling woman regarded you as you approached. “What can I get you deary?”

“Actually it’s a matter of what I can do for you,” you said. “I see you have some instruments sitting much too idly.”

The old lady shrugged. “Not really. Night like this you don’t need music to bring people in.”

Your smile faltered a moment, but you pushed on. “That may be, but nothing keeps people drinking longer and deeper than a good song.”

She gave you a disparaging look. “Don’t tell me, bard right?”

“Guilty.”

“If you don’t have money for the rooms, we don’t comp that.”

You waved the comment away. “The rooms aren’t the issue. However, if you’re willing to part with a cauldron of stew, I’ll consider it payment enough.”

Her eyes remained wary, but you knew you had her as a twitch came to her lips. “That’ll do. Thirty minute set. You eat after.”

She held out a hand which you took, striking the bargain.

It didn’t take long after to secure the rooms. They were nothing fancy, but a mattress was a mattress and with the guarantee of true privacy for the first time in weeks, none of you were complaining.

“How’s this about food then?” Karlach asked, taking a seat at one of the few tables large enough to accommodate all seven of you.

“All taken care of,” you assured. “Just need to pluck out a quick set and we can eat.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Astarion said. “I don’t mind it myself, but your songs have a tendency to be a bit, well…destructive. Frankly I’m surprised you didn’t use that cutting mouth of yours to simply insult the woman into feeding you.”

“As it turns out, I have a little thing called restraint. Unlike some people,” you countered.

“Oh trust me my dear, I’m well aware of that.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight twist of guilt in your stomach.

He couldn’t seem to help making those kinds of jabs ever since you had declined his offer for a midnight tryst; always alluding to the theme of “untapped passions” or “delayed gratification”. It was starting to wear on you.

Gods knew you liked him. He had so many qualities you admired; insight, intelligence, charm, the way he could make you laugh. The more you learned, the more you wanted to know and the more you were willing to give for answers. The trouble was his idea of a night of passion and yours were so very, very different.

A part of you knew the honest thing to do would be to spell it out for him. You understood him well enough to know he’d respect those boundaries. At the same time, you didn’t want to lose this, whatever this was, between you. If suddenly that night of passion was off the table, all those moments, all his attentions would be lost. He’d be a friend, certainly, but nothing more.

It was selfish. You knew it was. You couldn’t imagine finding the words to explain it to him. It would leave you too exposed, too vulnerable to that insistent burning want that had a way of tearing you apart from the inside out. It was better to leave him to his assumptions of suppression and prudishness. You’d keep your dignity at least.

Pushing those thoughts away, you took your place in the unobtrusive corner and the spare violin waiting for you.

A smile spread across your face as you tucked the familiar instrument under your chin. Since this whole adventure of yours began, you had little opportunity to apply your skills. Music had always been a source of comfort to you. It felt right to indulge in it now, some place safe and filled with warm firelight.

With a flick of your wrist you began, the resonating tone of the strings filling the room.

You allowed your eyes to close as you slipped into the melody. The sounds of conversation and laughter fell to an idle murmur. It was a simple tune, something easy to match the atmosphere, but one you loved all the same. You always found it best to start with something familiar. If the patrons could see you get lost in the music, they inevitably followed.

As the first song came to an end, you chanced a quick glance at your audience.

Most of the patrons still prattled on, but enough turned your direction to encourage you to try something a little more daring.

Your fingers flew, igniting a livelier rhythm. More eyes found their way to you. A pleasant bubbling sensation filled you. They were falling right into your hands.

Rising to your feet, you glided across the floor, moving with the music towards the center of the room.

Patrons shuffled out of the way, transfixed by your performance. Even your companions had stopped their chatter.

Karlach and Shadowheart’s faces lit up in delight. A smile touched the corner of Gale’s mouth. Even Lae’zel and Wyll looked on with admiration at your skills. As for Astarion…Astarion just stared.

You couldn’t quite read what was going on behind those scarlet eyes. It was a look you had caught him wearing more than once, always blinked away before you could fully comprehend its meaning. All you knew was how it made that dangerous hope spark in your chest.

He caught you looking and quickly morphed his expression to its familiar smirk. The bastard even had the audacity to wink.

You rolled your eyes pretending not to have seen. It was all part of the game after all. He pretended to care, you pretended not to fall for it.

A lute suddenly joined you from one of the corners, strumming its way into a new song.

You turned as a cheer rose, encouraging the intrusive lutist forward. He was human by the look of him and certainly skilled in his own right. He took a moment to embellish your solo before taking over with one of his own. Soon enough you joined the conversation again with a counter melody. It wasn’t as clean as you would have liked it. The lad clearly had meant to upstage you, but you made sure to put him in line, allowing the impromptu duet to end in some kind of harmony.

You transitioned easily to a new song as he took a seat, bowing to you as he did.

Remembering your showmanship, you made a point to bow in return, schooling your expression into a flirtatious grin before pulling away. That earned the man a round of cheers from his friends and a few obvious oohs from the crowd; exactly as you intended.

You continued on with the remainder of your set. Requests were shouted from the audience, all the pieces of music moving to and from your fingers with practiced grace. By the end of it, your arms were exhausted, but your face hurt from smiling. Gods you had missed this.

As you took your bow, applause followed you back to your table as well as a handful of extra coin.

“That was amazing!” Karlach said, beaming at you. “How’d you learn to play like that?”

“Years of practice,” you said, with pride. “Had to find an honest living somehow.”

“Well, it was beautifully done,” Gale added. “Maybe next time we make camp you could grace us with another performance. Provided we’re not all about to die of course.”

You shot him a grin. “I could be persuaded.”

The wizard turned his gaze away, his lips turning into a knowing smirk. “You’ve been unnaturally quiet Astarion. Been bewitched have you?”

The vampire blinked as if coming out of deep thought. It was only in those last moments did you realize just how intently he had been looking in your direction.

“Yes,” he said, a little stiffly, “you were quite…good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Be careful there. You wouldn’t want to overwhelm me with praise.”

He regarded you a moment before a sly smile turned at his lips.

You were almost relieved. That look you understood at least.

“If it’s praise you crave, you need only ask,” he purred. “You, my dear, are an unparalleled talent. Your beauty and grace alone should have brought you into the presence of kings. A true diamond in the rough.”

You snorted out a laugh.

“No good?” he continued. “How about this one; if I die tomorrow and the gods grant me mercy it will be your song that brings me into the beyond.”

You gave him a slow clap. “Brava.”

He inclined his head in a little bow. “But seriously, you were good and you didn’t even destroy the furniture. Admittedly though, I wouldn’t have minded if he had met with a little accident.”

You followed Astarion’s eye line to the lute player chatting with his friends. He perked up as he felt eyes on him. Without the distraction of playing, you could easily tell he was handsome in that sun kissed farmer’s son kind of way. Probably had most of the girls in the village swooning.

He raised a tankard to you in toast.

You met the gesture in acknowledgment.

“He wasn’t that bad,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“He was the worst part of your performance,” Astarion insisted.

You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t help but have your fun.

“Oh my darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Certainly I am,” he said, clutching his own chest in turn. “He’s the only person I’ve seen you willing to make sweet music with. And judging from his looks, he would have much preferred it to be a private performance.”

You didn’t bother looking over to the other table to see if he was telling the truth. It didn’t matter either way. It never did. Your answer was always the same.

“He’ll have to keep waiting.” You shrugged. “Not my type.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed slightly, leaning in closer. “And what exactly is?”

You didn’t answer, deciding instead to take a long sip of your ale.

He continued to eye you, his lips pursed as if trying to solve a puzzle. After a few moments he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, keep your secrets, but I will figure it out eventually.”

Your lip twitched up into a half smile. “You may certainly try.”

It was then one of the staff brought out a truly enormous cauldron of the most delicious smelling stew you had smelled in your life.

You didn’t think to wait as you greedily poured a ladle full into your empty bowl. Two full days on the road with nothing but a handful of nuts and berries to sustain you had taken its toll. The rest of the group soon followed, each taking their share. You ate yours so quickly that by the time the ladle had made the circle, you were grabbing for seconds.

“Hungry are we?” Astarion observed.

You paused mid bite, heat rising in your cheeks. You took a quick look at everyone else. Nobody seemed to have noticed how you inhaled your food. They were content enough in their own bowls and conversation. Carefully you swallowed before self consciously setting down the spoon in your hand.

“I am the one who worked for this,” you said, more defensively than you intended.

Astarion regarded you with a raised eyebrow. “Even so, it’s not going to disappear the second you look away.”

“Says you.”

“Clever,” he said, dryly. “Devastating really. What’s next? Are you going to hit me with an “oh yeah” or Gods forbid a “your mother”?”

“I was actually leaning towards, “leave me to eat in peace you pompous jackass”.”

“Oh yes, that’s much better.”

You breathed out a frustrated sigh. Hopefully it would distract from your obvious embarrassment. You had thought you’d tucked those bad habits away.

Years of living on your own had left you going to bed hungry more times than you cared to remember. There was a time food had disappeared from your plate if you didn’t eat it fast enough. Of course, things got better. You found music and people willing to listen. It gave you fire and shelter and a contented stomach on good nights. Still, there were the bad ones and old instincts took over. It took practice not to be as ravenous as you knew your nature to be.

“Do I need to worry about your hunger?” you asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Oh you of all people should know by now. I’m insatiable,” he crooned.

Your eyes narrowed, unamused. “I’m being serious, when’s the last time you ate?”

He shrugged. “Few days. Last time I fed on you I imagine.”

Your stomach gave a sudden guilt ridden twist. If that were the case, it had to have been at least three days ago.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because as much as the image of you swooning in my arms is appealing, I’d rather it be over my charms rather than blood loss.” He nodded his head towards the bowl. “From my own experience hunger and restraint don’t mix.”

You tried to fight it. You really did. Years of instinct and reason told you not to fall for the softness in his eyes and voice. He simply didn’t want to explain a dead body to the rest of the party. It wasn’t out of some concern for your well being. And you absolutely could not allow yourself to believe he recognized the desperation in your actions and not pass judgment. If you believed that, you’d be in much more danger than you already were.

“Excuse me deary,” an elderly voice asked. “I was wondering if I could have another moment of your time.”

You turned to see the barkeeper at your shoulder.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Of course.”

You moved to stand, but she gestured you down. It was then you noticed she was carrying a case. It was worn with age, but clearly lovingly maintained as the edges shone with intricate gold inlay.

“I know you already paid for your meal,” she said. “But I was hoping I could ask for one more performance tonight.”

She opened the case to reveal the most beautiful violin you’d ever laid eyes on. The wood was a carefully polished chestnut interrupted with carvings which matched those on the case. The strings shone like gold and the pegs carved marble. You may not be a trained wizard, but could feel the magic pulsing from every square inch of it.

“What is this?”

“It was my father’s,” the woman explained. “He was a bard you see, best in these parts from what people told. He had so many stories and songs. Built it himself to help tell them. Try as I might though, I could never get it to play as sweetly. I was hoping you might.”

You looked to your companions. The obvious curiosity played on all their faces.

With a cautious hand, you plucked one of the strings.

It was perfectly in tune. The sound echoed, rich and vibrant even with so light a touch. The instrument itself seemed to glow as if happy to be played once again.

Slowly, you lifted it from the case, taking the bow in hand. You placed it on the strings and with an exhale drew the first notes.

It was the loveliest sound you’d ever heard.

The vibrations resinated in your fingers, moving through your arm and into your chest.

You decided to start simple, a handful of scales to get the intonations just right.

Color danced across the strings, rippling from your fingers like raindrops in a pond.

“Woah,” Karlach said, her eyes widening in awe. “Are you doing that?”

“No,” you said, pausing your motions, as you let it fall slack in your hands.

The elderly halfing smiled. “My father always said an artist puts their truth into every stroke of the bow. This here helps one’s heart shine. I saw the way you performed earlier, you’re not afraid to play what’s true.”

Color rose in your cheeks, unsure how to take such praise. “Thank you.”

She just smiled, nodding towards the instrument. “Keep playing. See what happens.”

You were suddenly aware of the rest of the party’s eyes turning expectantly towards you. Some with caution, some with anticipation, and one pair of red eyes with unreadable intentions.

Knowing there was no way you were getting out of this now, you rose from your seat, placing the violin securely beneath your chin.

You started slow, picking a tune every beginner memorized in their first lessons.

The music sparkled in front of your eyes, twirling outward in melodic waves.

The hum of conversation began to die down as you spotted the barkeeper beckon for silence.

You continued on, moving to something a little more complex, allowing yourself to let the rest of the room blur in the peripheries.

The sound of boots on cobblestones met your ears. Glancing down you saw stone where hardwood floors had been.

You took another step.

The stones followed.

Around you the room fluctuated between firelight and the brightness of morning. Looking up you could see a clear sky had replaced the hatched ceiling.

A smile spread across your face as you stepped away from your bench.

As if waiting for your queue the rest of the bar quickly moved tables and chairs out of the way, clearing the center floor.

The sun followed as the cobblestones spread out in front of you like a stream. With every flourish, finer details were added. You changed the direction allowing a building to form beside you, then another and another. Images of people faded in and out like memories, coming and going with the flow of the music.

You never felt anything like this before. The strings sang inside you, drawing out a melody you knew was there, but had always managed to slip from your grasp.

You surrendered to its current, following it deeper and deeper until all you could see, all you could touch was the music.

Behind your eyes the streets began to turn and change. Buildings loomed large overhead. You could hardly see the stars. A cold swept through your clothes, the chords of the melody vibrating with the shivers in your hands. The world was so much bigger and you were so much smaller.

No instrument laid in your hands, but still the music played on as if you had slipped into a dream.

You continued to walk unsure of where your feet were carrying you until something warm pressed against your back. Light reflected behind you, casting long shadows on the ground. A melody played, soft and soothing against your own. You turned towards it as the voices of long forgotten conversation and laughter accompanied the strings of a quartet.

Your chords and theirs brushed up against each other, a new light shining in the darkness, but just as soon as it began, it moved away, leaving you on your own once again.

You continued on, brushing against others. Sparks would fly, fire would ignite only for them it fade in front of your eyes.

Your own melody grew more desperate, moving and shaping itself to match whoever you found next only just able to cling onto the barest sense of itself.

An ache grew in your chest as you wandered, always searching, never finding. Something warm trailed down your cheeks. You let it flow, unable to stop. You wouldn’t end the story here, even as swirls of blues and blacks surrounded you. They wrapped around your body, filling your vision and squeezing tight around you until you felt the air being pushed out of your lungs. There was nothing else. Even the music had gone dead.

For what felt like a moment and eternity you sat there, alone in the dark.

A voice came to you then, but it didn’t come from the instrument tucked somewhere under your chin. No melody accompanied it. It was so far away. Something about it was so familiar. It spoke your name like a desperate prayer. You reached out for it.

The air itself moved around you as if you had plucked the very strings of the universe.

A low hum came next bringing with it two pin pricks of light. A red fire glowed in the darkened space, growing until they sat as two eyes burning in the air.

You cocked your head to the side. Your own song started again, cautious as it curled around the eyes, examining them from different angles.

The eyes crinkled at the edges, amused by your persistence.

With a blur of motion, it turned to the side allowing a profile to form and beginning an enticing melody of its own.

You and the face took turns, calling and answering in playful antagonism.

The lines of light continued downward as its counter melody grew in strength against your own, forming the outline of a man.

He stepped towards you, his own head turning to the side as yours had done before, examining you from every angle.

After a moment, he bowed. You curtseyed. And then you did what only felt natural. You danced.

The heat of his touch burned your skin, but you didn’t dare pull away. You had been cold for so long you hadn’t even known you were cold. Even when it became too much, the fear of the darkness kept you in his light.

The man in turn held you close, his song teasing against your own. So unlike the duet from before, this was a true conversation, the pair of you giving and taking in equal measure. You didn’t want it to stop, holding the feeling tighter and tighter until you felt the pulse of his fire inside you.

You looked up to find the embers of his eyes pouring into you. He moved your hand to his chest. A heart pumped beneath and you knew then it wasn’t his own. Just as you had taken from him, he had taken from you in equal measure.

His face came into focus, forming a familiar knowing smirk and playful scarlet eyes.

He stepped back from you, his hand holding yours as he bowed, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

The song faded away and you were once again in your own body, a violin tucked carefully beneath your chin.

You blinked your eyes open to find the tavern standing as it had been moments ago. Patrons surrounded you, their eyes wide and mouths open. You glanced around the room, quickly finding your companions. Horror struck you as you read their expression.

They’d seen it. All of it.

Before you could register what was happening a wave of applause erupted from the crowd. People began to cheer. You heard awed whoops and hollers. The adoration was overwhelming and completely miss timed. You needed to lie down. You needed to think.

Numbly you bowed before making your way to the side of the room where the barkeeper stood.

You held the instrument out to her, unable to look her directly in the eye.

“Thank you for letting me play this,” you said.

To your surprise she didn’t take it, instead pushing your hands away with a shake of her head.

“Keep it love,” she said. “After seeing all that, feels wrong to take it away from you. You’ve more than earned the right to it.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to scream. You wanted to curse her for ever asking you to touch the damned thing. Somehow you managed to swallow all of that down, mumbling another thank you before slowly turning towards your party.

There was still a chance to salvage this. Astarion hadn’t seen his own reflection in centuries. He didn’t know what he looked like. You could play this whole thing up to artistic license. You just carried a general feeling of desperate longing. No need for you to clarify its direction.

Making a point to keep your head down, you put the violin away and slid it over to Gale.

“Feel free to eat this one if you want,” you said. It was meant to be a joke, but even you could feel it fall flat.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Gale said, his tone holding nothing but sympathy.

“It really was lovely,” Wyll said, gently.

“Beautiful really,” Shadowheart added.

Your jaw tightened, caught between the urge to scream or weep. Why couldn’t everybody do you the favor of the lifetime and forget they saw anything.

“Personally I don’t understand your choice in the spawn, but–” Lae’zel started only to be hit hard in the arm by Karlach.

“What?” she snapped.

Your whole body cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“That was…me?”

You were in hell. This was hell. You didn’t have to look up to see Astarion’s self satisfied expression. His tone made it clear enough.

In a flash you stepped back from the table, putting as much distance between you and the party as possible.

“I need to go,” you managed. “Goodnight.”

You sprinted out of the tavern, taking two steps of the time to the upper rooms. You didn’t stop until your door was firmly slapped behind you.

Your breaths came hard as your heart pounded in your chest. Honestly you didn’t know how you locked the door. Your hands were shaking so badly as tears blurred your vision. All the emotions the violin had pulled from you returned, overwhelming you in their intensity.

The instrument had done as advertised. It had shown the truth of your heart, putting it on display for the whole world to see. Gods you were an idiot. Why did you even pick up that damned thing?

You kept your ears open, listening as everyone made their way to their rooms. Their murmurs never made it past the walls, but the way they paused as they passed your door made it clear enough they were discussing you. Thankfully they were kind enough to leave you be.

Counting, you waited until all six doors shut before rising to your feet.

As you did, you felt a small pull at the back of your mind. A vision of a door number and the feeling of anticipation sat on your tongue. The invitation was clear enough; Astarion was waiting for you.

You wanted to ignore it, but you knew you couldn’t. There was no use in pretending any longer. The game was over and you would have to face the consequences.

With a steeling breath, you walked out the door. You could only hope Astarion wouldn’t hate you when it was all over.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #bard!reader #asexual!reader #asexual #bard!tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

#stranger things #steve & the party #steddie #steddie fic #but also not really. steddie is just something that happens along the way #this was meant to be short but uh. uh. whoops?#hi anna i am sorry feel free to ignore this i could have made this easier in everyone but they’re teenagers with trauma dammit #dio words #actually i just wanted an excuse to make steve sad. if you know me you know

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kisses4reid · 21 days

Text

convenient pt.4 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 3 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - you don’t need help with your biology anymore, you need help understanding the chemistry that seems to be growing between you and spencer.

warnings - jealousy, dickhead guy, unwanted flirting, awkward spencer, mentions of getting run over and pouring rain, studying.

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer, fluff, angst if you squint, jealousy trope

a/n - i hope you all enjoy this part. comment or put in a req to be added to the convenience taglist, if you’ve already asked and i haven’t mentioned you please message orso i can make sure you’re on my list for the next part! love you all 🫶

sat in a plush office chair, in a cool room, in a comfortable dress shirt, surrounded by the people he trusted most, spencer couldn’t seem to live in the moment.

now that’s not something you would suggest to the man when he’s sat in front of multiple gruesome photos and case files, usually he would be 100% focused, no bullshit, no wandering thoughts.

but suddenly he felt light, airy, like these cases were just another day and he would be confident either way. it wasn’t completely untrue, but it was odd. everyone else seemed to notice.

“spencer, are you okay?” aaron hotchner startled the man with his stern and concerned voice, everyone looking up at spencer as a natural reaction. spencer looked around the table, noticing a growing grin between garcia and morgan.

hotch continued, “if you need to sit this one out, by all means.”

spencer shook his head and adjusted his posture, picking up a profile to skim over. there was a small giggle from garcia that brought the attention of aaron.

“what’s going on?”

“reid’s distracted because of a certain someone…” morgan replied, biting the end of his ballpoint pen. garcia slapped his shoulder.

“don’t tease him, meanies. keep going, hotch.”

they were right. he was distracted and felt far away most of the time. he wanted to go somewhere comfortable, like a convenience store with a pretty employee to talk to.

ricky, a handsome guy a few years older than you, was annoying logan with questions he could’ve answered himself. he tagged along with logan to your weekend study session at a small cafe not far from the college. the tall man was mostly agreeable, except for his apparent obsession with straight black coffee. he had had two cups of it already.

“so, y/n. what do you study? wait don’t tell me. nursing, because you seem to be healing my broken heart. psychology, because you’re making me crazy? or is it music, because your voice is like a song?” he leaned forward from across the table, disregarding the punch in the shoulder from logan. you only glared and returned to your expensive textbooks, leaving your drink to turn cold in its abandonment.

“don’t try anything, ricky. she’s basically taken.” she warned with a smirk. you lifted your gaze and rolled your eyes,

“you’re nonsensical. you’ve had too much coffee,” you stop filling out a questionnaire, “he’s not even that… he’s… ugh, i don’t know.” you place your pen down and stretch in the stiff wooden chair.

ricky laughs, clapping his hands together, “okay so you totally have a crush on a guy.”

“i do not.”

“i guess i’ll back off with my advances, unlessss, you truly don’t have a crush on your lover boy?”

“i do not- but still please back off, you’re gross.”

logan and ricky shared a glance and went back to their work silently. like they knew something you didn’t. your brain had turned stuffy, you need to get some air, you needed to get away from the truth.

garcia and morgan appeared so suddenly spencer thought turbulence had pushed them into their seats in front of him. his gaze snapped from the airplane wing to their two giddy faces and immediately knew what this conversation was going to be about. it only made him a little bit uncomfortable, these types of conversations. girls, flirting, being happy around someone he doesn’t work with, it was all unfamiliar. it seemed he chose the best people to talk about it to though; garcia had given him a little too much information about his crush from her unwanted snooping, and in the process morgan was also given all of this information.

“yes, okay, i told derek all about your girl but i couldn’t help it! he’s very persuasive!” garcia pouted. spencer thinned his lips and nodded, expecting a surge of conversation but he was only met with silence. morgan and garcia shared a glance.

“look, spencer. we’re only doing this to distract ourselves from the case we just closed, and to help you. if you don’t want help, if you think this… thing, will die out, then tell us. but, if you do want some adviceee…” morgan spoke smoothly, quiet enough to avoid attention from anyone else.

when spencer stayed silent, thinking about how he could never use you as a distraction, morgan whispered, “if nothings happening, you gotta light the match.”

you were standing on an uneven step ladder when the doorbell rang with 10 minutes to closing. you rolled your eyes, thinking you’d have to stay even later because of this customer. but your demise quickly turned to calmness, a little bit of panic, when spencer appeared in the entry way.

you nearly fell off the ladder, dropping the pile of juice boxes in your hands onto the floor. you cursed under your breath, watching from above as spencer picked them up for you.

“thank you.”

there was no need for formalities anymore, it was like you had known each other forever. spencer was silent again, it was becoming his thing.

you clear your throat, “i changed my medication.”

he glanced at you, brown eyes observing your tired expression. he came here unconsciously. he had already had some take out, he didn’t need any coffee, and his fruit bowl was stocked to the brim. spencer walked to this convenience store, the result of the action being evident through the pain in his feet.

the phone in your back pocket caught spencer’s attention, before he promptly looked elsewhere to avoid looking like a creep.

“good, im glad.”

are we really back to this? was one awkward conversation all we needed to go back to strangers?

you stepped down, “no more bruises.”

spencer placed his fingers delicately on his healed cheek, holding back a smile that you actually remembered that.

he asked, “who’s texting you so much?” without much thought. he didn’t think about how it sounded, like he was protective or worried, or what it implied. he didn’t even have your number, why should he be so upset?

“oh it’s just logan and ricky.” you replied simply, folding up the ladder and glancing at the clock placed above the register desk, “are you getting anything?”

because it didn’t seem weird if he came here for you instead of his groceries.

“like your brother, ricky?”

there was a small match burning in his stomach at the sound of those names. he felt like taking your phone and snooping until he reached the end, until his fingers hurt. spencer felt like asking intrusive questions, before he bit his lips to stop himself.

you made notice of his hands fiddling in his pant pockets, rolling your eyes. that made his tongue slip.

“how many guys do you know?”

you looked at him with surprise, walking over to the register, “you think i’m a whore?”

spencer’s heart skipped a beat, “no not at all, i just- i didn’t word that right.”

you shook your head and laughed quietly, starting to count the change sat on your swivel chair. something was off. the street was empty. “did you walk here, spencer?”

spencer’s breath hitched. oh god, were the only words circling in his brain. when you used his name, it was different. this was weird, he needed to get out of there.

you looked so effortless. he looked so anxious.

“yeah. i did.”

you nod, “okay, you can help me lock up then.” you pass him a set of keys for the window covers, and add, “you can walk me home, to make up for the other day.”

spencer nods with a small smile and begins locking up.

you lead the way out of the store and around the corner to a set of traffic lights. the streets are silent and misty, but neither of you felt the need to jay walk in an attempt to speed up this process of awkward walking.

spencer watches you from his advantage point. at how you bite the inside on your lips, how you look at the concrete pathway.

“what’s wrong?” you don’t react, instead push the pedestrian button and sigh.

“it’s monday, spencer. you were going to ‘retry’, ‘be better’? i’m not 100% sure what you meant by that, but you said that right after you told me you were going to ask me out so.”

spencer gulps and nods, hands going back to their safe space in his pockets. “yeah, i said that. but i’m going to have to delay that again. this isn’t really,” he motioned towards the weeds, litter, and flickering street lights with his eyes, and you nod with a smirk.

“romantic?”

“romantic.”

you smile at each other, and for a second he’s utterly entranced before a wave of wind and tires pass him. before a soft hand is hard on his upper arm. his eyes trailed the car, heart beating nearly as hard as it does when he looks at you.

“jesus, are you okay?” you asked worried, and when he nods with a simple stare accompanying it, you look away.

light a match.

you hand leaves him quicker than it got there.

in front of your apartment building, you notice logan’s window alight behind white curtains, and turn to face spencer.

“thank you for walking me home. i would invite you in but it’s 1:20am and i don’t really… know you.”

spencer furrows his eyebrows slightly, looking at you expectantly. your faces turns cold, slightly sorrowful.

“spencer, i don’t know you. i know things about you but i don’t actually know you.” you yawn, wiping a hand over your eyes, “maybe i’m just tired and overworked and…” logan’s voice echoes through your head as you look over the tall, tired and handsome man in front of you, “if you’re not going to ask me out first i’m going to ask you out. so, make a decision.”

it felt wrong being so stubborn and solid with him, but with school and family stress you truly didn’t need any unknown feelings to topple on as well.

spencer was taken aback. he didn’t know one couple where the girl asked out the guy, he didn’t know someone could like him that badly. he didn’t know what to say.

“goodnight, spencer. i’ll see you.”

you turned and pushed on the pull door, before pulling on it. heart thumping in your ears, you slowly held a hand over your mouth, impressed with yourself.

but you lied, you weren’t going to ask him out. you have no idea how to ask someone out.

the convenience store wasn’t so lonely tonight.

logan was arguing with ricky over his choice in deodorant almost louder than the terrible radio music playing throughout the store.

the beating of rain was creating a calming background to this chaos, as well as keeping customers away. all but one, of course.

spencer had an excuse, he was supposed to bring food for the team tomorrow, and this was the closest store. totally. but as he stood under the cover of the stores overhead steel, he felt another match being burnt in the bottom of his stomach.

a tall and toned man with bright blonde hair was leaning over your register and talking to you, making you smile and laugh. your arms were crossed, you were leaned away and you avoided eye contact, but spencer didn’t see any of these signs as the waves of jealousy drowned him.

spencer looked out onto the street. he had no right to feel that way, this was his own fault. he felt even weirder and out of place than he usually felt.

the doorbell rang and your fake smile turned real. logan watched from the toilet spray section and smirked when she recognised the purple-sweater adorned man. ricky stopped his flirting and turned to meet spencer’s eyes, they sized each other up. the blonde man smiled and looked back at your much happier face, “so this is lover boy?”

you smacked his arm hard, receiving a squeal in return. “what? no. ricky this is spencer, spencer this is ricky.”

spencer gulped and ignored the stranger and you. he went for the fruits section. ricky glanced at your confused face, “i might be a threat.”

“in your dreams.” you rolled your eyes and pushed his elbow off your desk. logan approached the counter with a basket full and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. you noticed ricky’s change in expression when looking at her and held back a smile.

“you didn’t get anything for me?” he asked, voice teasing. logan took out a block of mint chocolate and threw it at him, which he caught perfectly with a smirk on his face.

“what’s wrong with lover boy?”

you glare at her, deciding avoiding that nickname was out of the picture. your shoulders slump as you begin scanning her items while making sure spencer wasn’t in earshot. “i mentioned you two, and then he went weird.”

“i mean, if i liked a girl and she told me about two guys- sorry, two people with guy names- i’d be pretty jealous,” ricky inputted.

“is that all? some jealousy got to his head?” logan pressed.

you seriously doubted he would be jealous over that, he seemed smarter than that. he was smarter than that.

logan paid and left, literally dragging ricky behind her, as he waved and winked at you through the windows.

the store was eerily quiet, the only noise coming from the thunderstorm brewing outside. it felt uncanny and uncomfortable. you needed someone’s cologne to wade through or something.

turning while shaking your head, you grabbed out some posters taller than you and turned to have the life scared out of you.

“jesus! i thought i told you to walk louder.”

his groceries were perfectly in line to be scanned, a small smile appearing before promptly vanishing. spencer avoided your eyes, a beating all he could hear.

“he’s your…”

you sighed, disappointed spencer even thought that dumb blonde was someone to you, “acquaintance.” you finished his sentence. “i’ve known him for two days and he a flirtatious dick. everyone named ricky is a dick.”

he pulls out his slim wallet to hand you a $20 bill, fingers skimming each other. one glance.

spencer nods and nearly leaves before you stop him, “can you help me?”

spencer is on the top of the ladder outside, barely staying dry underneath the steel overhead cover with the top corners of a food poster in his hands. you tip toe to give him a piece of double sided tape. the laminated photos wave in the wind, spencer sticks his tongue out in concentration and you smile at the innocent act. leaning against the wall, quickly glancing inside to make sure nobody wanted to check out, you begin talking.

“thank you for doing this, i totally would’ve fallen and died if it weren’t for you. what can i do to repay you?”

spencer thought for a moment, looking down at you, “nothing. you don’t have to do anything. just keep talking.”

so you did, because you didn’t know if you’d see him again after tonight.

PART 5

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x yn

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sweetestdesire · 12 days

Text

PRETTY ON FILM

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, degrading speech, mentions of filming penetration, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Luke Hughes needs something to keep him satisfied when he’s away on roadies.

“Have you ever filmed yourself doing anything? Sexual, I mean.” Luke turned to face Y/N in bed, propped up on one elbow, hand supporting his head. She placed her phone on her stomach, letting out a quiet scoff.

“You mean like, a sex tape?” Luke nodded, and she shook her head. “You know that you’re the only one I’ve ever been with. Never made anything like that for you, have I?”

At this, he shrugged. “Not everything you do has to be for me. Could’ve been feeling sexy one night and filmed yourself fooling around when I was gone, who knows?” Luke teased, collapsing on his side and pulling her close to him.

“You know that I’d never. I’m too afraid of my iCloud getting hacked or something.” Y/N answered, picking her phone back up to continue her nightly scroll through TikTok. “Kinda random, though. Why are you asking? Planning something I don’t know about?”

“I’ve just been thinking that it would be so fucking hot to watch when I go on the road and feeling a little frustrated.” He whispered before placing a hand onto her cheek, his thumb stroking it gently. She kissed his lips gently, him smiling into the kiss before she pulled away.

“I don’t know, Luke.” Y/N told him hesitantly.

“Nothing we film will ever see the light of day. It will just be for us, baby, I promise.” Luke reassured her, moving to set the his phone down on the nightstand. “Don’t think you have to give me a yes or no answer right now. I figured it can be our next rainy day activity or something.”

Y/N laughed at Luke calling the activity of them possibly partaking in the filming of a sex tape with him a “rainy day activity.” “Okay, yeah, I’ll have to think about it.”

“Rain’s really coming down out there.” Luke commented one morning, looking out the window while taking a noisy sip out of his tea. Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, pouring herself a cup as well. He turned to face her, leaning back against the counter. “What should we do today?”

“Could always get some cleaning done. My allergies have been going crazy, think it wouldn’t kill us to do some dusting and vacuuming.” Y/N replied, pouring milk into her tea.

“What’s in it for me?” Luke asked, a mischievous tone present in his voice. She turned around to face him, hands tightly gripping her warm mug.

“What do you mean what’s in it for you? This is your apartment.” Y/N jokingly scolded.

“I’m kidding, Y/N.” He retorted, setting his mug down and walking over to envelop her in a hug. Her tea sloshed from the sudden movement and spilled onto the ground, causing her to let out a whine of Luke’s name.

“Luke.” Y/N groaned, setting her now dripping cup onto the counter. “See, looks like we do need to clean. We can start here.” She grabbed a handful of paper towels and handed them to him to clean up the small mess he made.

“Well, what’re we gonna do after? It’s not gonna take all day.” Luke remarked, bending down to wipe the floor. “I think I know what we can do.” He quickly stood back up, an excited look on his face.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked, already starting to move things from the counter to the dining room table so she could begin wiping it down.

“Remember a couple weeks ago what I told you we could save for a rainy day?” Luke gestured towards the window, where she could see the rain coming down so hard that it was difficult to even see outside. “How about we make a little film?”

“What’re you talking about?” Y/N replied, walking over to the sink and wetting the sponge. “What film?”

“You know.” Luke rocked back and forth on his heels. “The sex tape? You said you would think about it.”

Y/N faced him, propping her hand on her hip. “You’re still on that? Seriously, Luke?” She asked in disbelief, shaking her head at her absurdly horny boyfriend.

“Of course I’m still on it.” Luke flashed a cheeky smile. “I think that’d be the hottest thing we could do, what do you think?”

“Honestly haven’t given it much thought. I don’t think I’m totally against the idea, though.” Y/N set the sponge down now, growing more interested in the conversation with him. “I think it’ll be a lot of fun. Oh, and very hot.” She added, giggling at how Luke’s face was starting to turn red.

“I think we should get to it then, yeah?” Luke wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close so that her chest was pressed against his body.

“Go upstairs and get your camera ready.” Y/N whispered.

His face lit up and then dropped just as quick. “Don’t do this for me, baby, do it for you.” Luke whispered and she nodded.

“For me, for when you’re gone and I wish that I could have you. Go, hurry.” Y/N whispered seductively and at that, he quickly scampered up the stairs.

“My pretty girl, looking so ready for me.” Luke was standing near their shared bed, muscular thighs hidden behind a pair of sweatpants. “Gonna let me make a pretty little film with you?” His eyes had that typical glint to them, glistening in the soft light, clearly excited to fuck her with one hand wrapped around his phone. Y/N’s hands were fisting the covers, having to stop herself from touching her aching pussy.

Y/N nodded, but realized Luke didn’t see her, so she timidly answered him with a simple, “yes.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest, hand letting go of her body, shuffling out of his pants without taking the camera off her frame. Every desperate glance, every groan and whimper got perpetuated, making sure not to miss a thing.

“Need you to taste you, Luke.” Y/N replied shakily, looking down at his now hardening cock.

“Let’s get these clothes off you then.” Luke moved to stand between her slightly parted legs. “Arms up, c’mon.” She lifted her arms above her head, and she swiftly removed her shirt. She quickly unclasped her bra and tossed it behind her shoulder, now bare from the waist up.

“You have to take off your shirt, so I’m not alone.” Y/N told him, patting the space next to her at the end of the bed.

Luke nodded and sat beside her, clumsily removing his shirt as well. The sexual tension in the air was thick, and she felt a kind of vulnerability she’d never felt before.

“Feel like I’m about to have sex with you for this first time.” He told her quietly. “Think we should just go at it like we usually do?”

Y/N licked her lips, sliding off the bed and onto her knees in front of him. “I think that’s a great idea.” Without warning, she wrapped a hand around his length, giving him a couple sloppy pumps. He threw his head back, a blissed-out smile on his face.

Luke’s cock was rock hard, painfully hard as he’d call it, ready to be sheathed by her heat. Her nimble fingers reached for his cock, giving him the opportunity to film her pumping his aching cock, catching every second on tape. Silently, he prayed that he wouldn’t lose his focus, knowing that she would be able to sidetrack his thoughts, letting his phone tumble to the ground for him to grab her with both hands.

“Lay down, need to be inside of you.” Y/N gave into his calling, squealing as he grasped one ankle, forcing her legs off the mattress, placing them on his shoulders. A groan rumbled through Luke as he spit onto her pussy, the tip of his cock brushing through her folds to mix his saliva with her arousal. Effortlessly he pushed into her, filling her to the brim with one thrust.

The hand that kept holding the phone began to tremble, Luke had to force himself to keep on breathing, the sensation was all too much, too intense for him to thumb through his thoughts. So, he gave into the feeling, eyes fluttering close as he pulled out of her, only to snap his hips against hers over and over again.

“Fuck, right there, Luke.” His empty hand moved down her thigh, finding her pulsing clit as he tired to hit that spot again. Y/N arched her back as he began to circle her clit, watching in awe as her body gave into his touch, entranced by the man she called hers. The camera stayed focused on her pussy, recording his arousal covered cock, disappearing inside her with every thrust.

Y/N’s lips parted to moan as she clawed at the smooth skin of Luke’s chest while he pinned her beneath him, one of his hands squeezing at the dip of her waist while the other tried to steady the shaky hold he had on his phone.

“Fuck, just look at you, baby. Can barely keep those pretty eyes open.” Luke drawled as he felt pleasure rock through his body with the next wet connection of his hips against hers, and she was silently hoping his neighbors weren’t home with how loudly the bedframe seemed to be knocking against the wall with every one of her boyfriend’s thrusts.

Y/N let out a hiccuped moan of Luke’s name, a whispery, needy sound that had him smirking from behind the screen before he was looming closer, deliberately angling the blunt head of his cock to graze along the swollen spot inside of her just as he pointed the flash from his camera at her blissful expression.

Luke felt too good, but it was instinctive the way her palm came up to try and hide her face from the camera before she heard her him click his tongue, his free hand moving along her body to snatch gently at her wrist before he pinned it to the pillow beside her and started a pace that was a little faster than the last.

Y/N watched Luke bite his lip as his grin kept the same teasing curl as always, swallowing another low groan before the flash was finding her once more, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment when she felt an all too familiar warmth twist in her abdomen as he pressed his cock into her.

“Oh? Didn’t think you were camera shy, baby. You gonna let me see those pretty faces you make on my cock?” Luke grunted again, letting the camera fall lower between their bodies until it was focusing on the mess of fluids that was smeared along her thighs and his, it only growing messier with every languid thrust.

Luke’s jaw clenched when he got a particularly good shot of his thick cock disappearing into her plush pussy, hissing a curse from between his teeth as the wet, squelching noises only grew louder while his balls smacked against her ass with each thrust, the sound so fucking loud Y/N was convinced he was trying to bury it into the walls instead of just his speaker.

Y/N blinked up at him when she felt like her eyes had adjusted to the usual dim lighting once more, finally meeting Luke’s gaze before another, dangerous sort of smirk was curling at the edges of his lips and she felt his fingers release her wrist in favor of tracing along her skin.

She felt him trail the teasing, featherlight touches lower before he was pressing his hand behind her thigh and pulling it up to let it hook around his shoulder. The new position only let him thrust his cock deeper into her already trembling walls, and Y/N felt something warm bursting along her thighs while her moans began to grow higher in pitch.

“Feels a bit selfish keeping you all for myself, you know. Maybe I’ll have to show the team how much of a fucking whore you are for my cock. All fucking mine, aren’t you?” Luke grunted, but it sounded needier this time as his lungs trembled on his next inhale, his hold on his phone wavering with the next squeeze of her walls along his cock. But he didn’t predict that he might be about to record himself losing his fucking mind in the intoxicating push and pull of her pussy.

Y/N was already mindless beneath him, but when the next place his fingers fell was between her thighs, it only took a few messy circles of her clit with two of his digits and a couple of languid, deep thrusts before she was stiffening, tight walls squeezing down eagerly around him.

“Why’d you stop?” Y/N asked heatedly, turning to look up at him.

“Don’t want you looking down. Want your pretty little face looking at this camera the whole time, think you can do that for me?” He asked, one of his hands squishing her cheeks together.

Y/N turned to face the camera again, so lost in how good Luke was making her feel that she’d completely forgotten that he was filming her. She nodded wordlessly as his grip on her cheeks loosened. Her pussy felt like it was trying to fucking milk him, it only pulling tighter every time he drew his hips back, trying to lure back in every inch she lost before he was burying it back inside of her.

“Eyes on me, baby.” Luke groaned, low and rugged and she knew he was desperately trying to keep a hold on the last string of his sanity, but her pussy felt so fucking good around him that he was considering getting this video put permanently on a loop in his mind.

Luke hissed through his teeth before he was focusing the camera on her face once more, his palm mercilessly pinning her hips to the bed before he was ruthlessly fucking her through her orgasm, every thrust unrelenting and he was only spurred on by the way she cried for him.

“Feels so good, my perfect girl. So tight for me.” Luke’s voice left her shuddering, eyes meeting his piercing ones. She already was too far gone, thoughts messy, forcing her to rely on him, to guide her through her arising high.

Y/N’s moans fell freely from her lips, making Luke smirk in delight, already excited about watching the video when he was far from home. His cock twitched as he gave into his thoughts, forcing himself to switch his focus back onto his moaning, trembling girl.

“Getting close.” Y/N said, struggling to even out your ragged breathing.

Luke’s wet his thumb in his mouth and brought it down in between their bodies, not slowing his thrusts as he rubbed at her clit. “Means I’m doing something right, wouldn’t you say?” He asked sarcastically, giving her a cheeky smile. She nodded, not trusting her shaky voice to answer him out loud. “Why don’t you cum for me, then? Let’s finish off this film.”

Y/N’s thighs twitched when she felt his thumb reach down to tease her puffy clit once more, every swipe shooting tiny aftershocks through her system as she thrashed below him, still so sensitive from her orgasm. Luke spread her thighs even wider before his thrusts were becoming sloppier, losing pace as he rocked into her, and she watched his head fall back to moan when she squeezed and trembled around the sensitive head of his cock.

“Cum with me, baby.” The thickness of his voice wrapped itself around her like smoke of a cigarette, trapping her in his embrace as her body followed him down the edge. Her orgasm rocked through her, buzzing in every vein, making itself comfortable in her system while he kept fucking into her.

Luke’s eyes were half lidded and dark when he blinked back down at her, peaks of his curls messier than usual as they fell along the light sheen of sweat along his forehead, framing the blush along his features before his lips parted to grind out another groan. Then it was hidden once more when the bright light from the flash clouded her vision and she felt his cock throb at the doe-eyed expression on her face.

“Let me see you make that pretty face for me again, baby.”

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ashwhowrites · 7 months

Text

Perv!Eddie blurb

~~~

Eddie had his eyes set on his innocent neighbor. She was adorable, cute, and sweet. She wore little sweaters and skirts. Bows in her hair and rode a bike with a basket. Nothing near Eddie's type, but he found himself intrigued by her. He almost felt like he wanted to sink his teeth into her and ruin the sunny filter she saw the world through.

He wondered how much of the real she knew. If she had any idea of the nasty thoughts that ran through Eddie's head when she bent over in her skirt to water her sunflowers. She always waved and smiled at him. Wishing him a good morning before she disappeared back inside. He couldn't tell if she noticed that his hand was always inside of his jeans or not.

He remembered the first time they talked. It was storming out, and Wayne was at work. Eddie was alone in the trailer, lighting candles as the power cut throughout the park. Eddie didn't expect to hear pounding on his door and the sweet sound of Y/N's voice coming through.

He opened the door, and she stood in a white tank top with no bra, completely see-through because of the rain. Tiny pink shorts, her slippers on her feet, and she held a brown bear. The fear in her eyes turned Eddie on in a way he should have felt wrong about.

She sat on his couch, holding a cup of hot chocolate as she flinched at the crack of the thunder. Her eyes stayed on Eddie, almost like if she looked away he'd vanish. If Eddie was a good guy, he'd make her feel better and cover up the goosebumps on her skin. But he wasn't.

He sat next to her, eyes locked on her breasts. Not bothering to offer a blanket or a different shirt to wear. They talked that night about random things. All of Eddie's questions were more sexual. He asked her about her sexual experience, and how far she went with a guy. And just as he thought, she was a virgin. Never even kissed a boy.

"Want me to kiss you?" He asked, he remembered how shy she looked, like a tiny animal staring back at the lion. Eddie wanted to devour her inside and out. Her lips tasted like hot chocolate, but her tongue tasted sweet. She wasn't confident in the kiss, allowing Eddie to take it anywhere he wanted.

After that night, she felt herself catching his eye.

~~~

Eddie almost felt bad for her. She had no idea that Eddie's bedroom window looked right into hers. Her pink curtains didn't block off anything. Eddie could see her white bed, covered in stuffed animals. That same brown bear in her hands. Eddie raced to lock his door, then stood near his window. The angle gave him perfect insight into her room. He watched as she wore a little nightgown, straddling herself on the bear. Tucking the bear underneath her cunt, lifting her gown, giving Eddie the perfect view of her ass as she moved herself on the bear. Eddie was quick to yank down his boxers, spitting in his hand as he played with his cock. He moaned her name under his breath as he watched her.

~~~

Eddie had a small collection of photos he took of her under his bed. Some from his window, and some she posed for. She thought it was for a scrapbook. No idea that his cum covered the photos over and over.

He was laying on his bed, cock in his hand as he looked down at the pictures of her. All the innocent ones with her stuffed animals. He thought he could hear her voice calling through his trailer, but that only brought him closer to an orgasm.

She walked through his bedroom door, covering her eyes as she caught him naked.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, keeping her eyes closed as she waited for him to get dressed. She heard him moving, then a hand ripping her hands away from her face.

She thought he'd be dressed but as she looked down, his hard cock was staring back at her. She couldn't take her eyes off of it. She felt herself wanting to feel it in her hands.

"You want to touch it?" He asked, grabbing her hand as he brought it to his cock. Hissing immediately at the softness of her hands.

"Nice and gentle, baby" he instructed, wrapping her hand around his cock for her. He moved her hand as he jerked himself off with her hand.

"What were you doing?" She asked, her innocent eyes looked back at him. He chuckled at her.

"Sweet thing," he cooed, using his free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Cumming to your pictures." He said it was the obvious thing in the world.

"...but why?"

"You are the reason why I'm having these problems, so it'll be you that fixes it."

~~~

Eddie didn't bother to hide that he watched her, sometimes she stared back at him through the window when he touched himself. Her eyes locked on his cock as he came all over his hand.

She snapped out of her trance when he'd shut the curtains with a smirk. It was his game and he made all the moves.

~~~~

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Head Over Heels

Charles Leclerc x Vasseur!Reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: in which Charles and Carlos are head over heels for you and you’re still painfully oblivious despite their best efforts

Warnings: this is a poly fic, overwhelming amounts of fluff

“Hey, Y/N! You’ve got a delivery!”

You look up, confused, as one of the mechanics hands over a beautifully wrapped bouquet. The vibrant pink roses and lilies contrast strikingly against the red of the Ferrari motorhome.

“For me? Who’s it from?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

The attached card is simple: For someone who lights up the track without even racing.

“Must be from a sponsor or someone thanking Dad,” you muse aloud, inhaling the fragrant bouquet.

Your father, Fred Vasseur, chuckles from a few steps away, “A sponsor, you think?”

You nod, genuinely convinced, “Who else?”

Charles, emerging from his cool-down session after practice, spots you with the flowers. His heart does a little jolt, hoping you’d recognize his gesture. “Those are beautiful,” he comments, trying to sound casual.

“They are, aren’t they?” You beam, holding them out to let him get a better look. “I think they’re from a sponsor or something. It’s a nice touch.”

A small, knowing smile tugs at Charles’ lips but he just nods. “Very thoughtful of them.”

Your father watches the exchange with an amused smirk, clearly catching on to Charles’ hidden intentions. He leans in to whisper to the Monegasque driver, “You sure you want to keep it anonymous, Leclerc?”

Charles shrugs but there’s a hint of red on his cheeks, “I thought it’d be more … romantic? But I didn’t think she would be this oblivious.”

Your father chuckles, patting Charles on the back, “Give it time, son.”

The day continues and you go about your tasks, occasionally stopping to admire the flowers, still clueless about their real origin. Everyone around seems to be sharing knowing glances and subtle nudges.

Carlos, having heard about Charles’ gesture, approaches you. “Heard you got a surprise today,” he comments playfully.

You nod, beaming, “Yeah, a pleasant one. It’s always nice to be appreciated, even if it’s indirectly.”

Charles, overhearing, sighs from a distance. “I need to up my game,” he murmurs to himself.

***

“Morning, Y/N! I brought you something.”

You glance up from your paperwork to find Carlos holding out a steaming cup of coffee and a beautifully wrapped pastry. You can’t help but smile, already salivating.

“Thanks, Carlos. This is such a treat! How do you always know where to find the best coffee and pastries?”

Carlos shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, “Oh, you know. Just lucky, I guess.”

Your father watches the exchange from a distance, laughing softly. “Carlos sure seems to have a knack for pleasing your taste buds,” he teases as he approaches.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you reply, “He’s just being friendly, Dad. Everyone loves a good pastry, right?”

Your father just raises an eyebrow, sipping his own coffee, “If you say so.”

Carlos, seeing an opportunity, chimes in, “Actually, I’ve been exploring the local bakeries in each city. You know, trying to find the best treats.” He pauses for a second, cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly, “Glad you like them.”

It’s a small confession but enough to get a teasing cheer from some of the mechanics nearby. You just laugh, assuming it’s part of the team's usual banter. “You’re too dedicated, Carlos! Thanks for always thinking of me.”

Carlos chuckles, his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper, “Anything for a … friend.”

Later, as you’re engrossed in your work, Charles passes by, subtly observing the pastry and coffee by your side. He exchanges a brief, understanding look with Carlos.

“You know,” Charles says casually, taking a seat opposite you, “Carlos wakes up an hour early just to find these for you.”

You blink, surprised, “Really?”

Charles nods, smirking, “Ask anyone here. They’ve seen him race off, rain or shine.”

Your heart swells with appreciation. “I had no idea,” you whisper, truly touched.

Carlos, overhearing, intervenes with a chuckle, “Leclerc, stop making it sound so dramatic! I just … like to start my day with a good treat, that’s all."

You smile warmly, taking a sip of your coffee, “You’re such a good friend, Carlos. I’m lucky to have you looking out for me like this.”

Carlos nods, swallowing down a hint of disappointment, “Always, Y/N. Just looking out for a friend, right?”

Your father passing by, catches the tail end of the conversation. He winks at Carlos, teasing, “Oh, absolutely. Just a friend.”

Carlos shoots him a mock glare but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Exactly. Just doing what any good friend would do.”

You laugh, completely missing the underlying tension, “Well, here’s to more coffee-filled mornings. Thanks, friend.”

Carlos raises his cup in a mock toast, “To friendship.” But there’s a certain longing in his eyes, a silent hope that someday friendship might evolve into something more.

***

“Y/N, have you ever thought of getting behind the wheel?”

You glance up from your notes, finding Charles leaning against your desk, a mischievous glint in his eye. You laugh, “Of a race car? Surely you’re joking.”

He shrugs, an inviting smirk on his face, “Who better to teach you than a Ferrari driver?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you offering?”

Charles nods. “Why not? It’ll be fun and maybe you’ll get a new appreciation for what we do.”

You consider it. “Alright, when?”

“How about after tomorrow’s practice session? The track will be free.”

Carlos, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “Planning some secret training without me?” His tone is playful but there’s an underlying hint of jealousy.

Charles grins, “Just thought I’d offer our friend here a little taste of the track life.”

You chuckle, “Don’t worry, Carlos. If I crash, I promise I’ll come to you for my second lesson.”

Carlos smirks, “I’ll hold you to that.”

The following day, after the practice session, you find yourself clad in a racing suit, helmet in hand, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. Charles approaches, looking much more confident than you feel.

“Ready?” He asks, voice full of anticipation.

You nod, gulping down your anxiety. “As I’ll ever be.”

The next hour is a blur of acceleration, sharp turns, and the roar of the engine. Charles proves to be a patient and encouraging teacher, guiding you through the intricacies of handling a race car. The adrenaline, the rush, and the sheer power of the machine are intoxicating.

At one point, as you glide around a particularly challenging curve, Charles whoops in delight from the passenger seat, “That’s it, Y/N! You’re a natural!”

Your laughter rings out, pure and genuine, “Maybe I’ve found my new calling.”

As the session comes to an end and the two of you climb out of the car, Carlos approaches, clapping. “Not bad for a rookie,” he teases.

You playfully shove him, “Thanks to my excellent instructor here.”

Charles laughs, ruffling your hair, “You were great, seriously.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “I guess I’ll be out of a job soon.”

You roll your eyes, “One lesson and suddenly I’m a pro? You flatter me. But seriously, this was amazing. Truly. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles grins, “Anytime. And remember, there’s always more to learn.”

Carlos smirks, “And more instructors available, just in case.”

You laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s celebrate me not crashing the car!”

As you all head off, you link arms with Charles, “You know, for a moment there, I felt the thrill you must feel during races. Thanks for being such a good friend and showing me that world.”

Charles smiles softly, a pang of both happiness and a touch of disappointment at the word you used. “Of course. Anything for a friend.”

Carlos, observing from a distance, shares a knowing look with Charles. The message is clear: the race is far from over.

***

“Hey, Y/N. Can’t sleep?”

You’re startled to find Carlos waiting by the hotel lobby, a charming smile playing on his lips. The clock on the wall reads just past midnight.

You rub your eyes, yawning, “No, not really. Jet lag, I guess.”

Carlos gestures toward the entrance, “How about a midnight stroll? I know this beautiful spot nearby.”

You hesitate for a moment but then nod, intrigued. “Sure, why not? Lead the way.”

The two of you step out into the cool night to find the quiet city bathed in soft light. The silence is comfortable as you walk side by side.

As you amble along, you can’t help but wonder, “Why are you up so late?”

He glances at you, “Couldn’t sleep either. And I thought maybe you’d enjoy some company.”

You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He points to a quiet park with a pond, its surface shimmering with the reflection of the moon. “Here we are. This place always helps me clear my head whenever we’re in town for a race.”

You settle on a bench and Carlos quickly sits beside you, shoulders brushing lightly.

The night unfolds with shared stories and laughter. Carlos opens up about his journey in racing, the challenges he’s faced, and the moments of triumph. You listen intently, feeling a newfound connection.

As the hours slip away, Carlos admits with a soft chuckle, “You know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? Why me?”

Carlos smiles, the moonlight illuminating his face. “Because you’re special. You’re different from anyone I’ve met on or off the circuit.”

A warm feeling washes over you. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He turns toward you, his gaze intense, “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say. Something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

But just as he’s about to speak, you yawn loudly, unable to hide your exhaustion any longer. “Sorry. I guess jet lag finally caught up with me.”

He chuckles, disappointment flickering in his eyes, “No worries. Let’s head back.”

When you reach the hotel entrance, Carlos bids you goodnight, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. “Get some rest. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

You smile sleepily, giving him a friendly hug, “Thanks for the midnight adventure. It was nice.”

He holds you for a moment longer than usual before pulling away, “Anytime. Sweet dreams.”

***

“Another one? Seriously?”

You chuckle, pulling out a small folded note from your jacket pocket, the fifth one this week.

“The world’s fastest circuits are slow compared to how fast you make my heart beat.” You read aloud, your cheeks warming at the words.

Carlos, seated nearby, smirks, “Someone’s clearly smitten with you. Any idea who?”

You shrug, “I figured they’re just motivational notes from the team. You know, to keep spirits up.”

Charles joins in, trying to keep his face neutral, “They’re quite poetic for just team motivation, don’t you think?”

You ponder his words, tilting your head. “I guess? But who would be sending them?”

Carlos snorts, “Oh, come on! It’s so obvious.”

You shoot him a confused look, “It is?”

Carlos and Charles exchange a glance, silently communicating. Charles, deciding to have a bit of fun, teases, “Well, they’re definitely from someone who admires you. And since they’re always hidden in places only the team has access to, it’s likely from someone here.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “Sounds about right.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You guys are just trying to rile me up. It’s probably just one of the pit crew playing a prank.”

Charles, a touch defensive, says, “You might be surprised. Maybe you have a secret admirer closer than you think.”

Your father, passing by, overhears the conversation and chuckles, “It’s about time she figures it out.”

You stare, completely baffled, “Figures what out?”

He just winks, patting Charles on the shoulder, “Keep trying.”

Your day is filled with speculation and curious glances, with everyone seeming to be in on a secret that you aren’t privy to. The notes, while touching, become a source of playful teasing.

That evening, as you prepare for bed, you find another note tucked inside your notebook: Your passion and dedication make even the toughest races feel like victories.

You can’t help but smile. “Who are you?” You whisper to yourself.

Little do you know, just a few rooms away, Charles is scribbling down another note, his heart set on winning yours, one word at a time.

***

The night is electric, the post-race party in full swing, music thumping and lights reflecting off the crystal-clear waters of the pool.

“Y/N! Join us for a dance?”

You turn, finding Carlos standing there, his hand outstretched and a playful smile on his face.

You laugh, “You’ve seen me dance. You sure you want to take that risk?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer to the dance floor, “For you? Always.”

As the music shifts to a slower, more intimate tune, you feel a bit self-conscious. But Carlos guides you gracefully, making you feel as if you’re the only two people in the world.

“See? You’re a natural,” Carlos murmurs, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You chuckle, “Or you’re just an excellent lead.”

Carlos smirks, “Could be both.”

Throughout the night you share more dances, both with Carlos and a few with Charles, who also proves to be quite the dancer. Each time you’re spun, dipped, or drawn close, there’s an electric charge, a connection that’s impossible to ignore.

“Enjoying yourself?” Charles asks during one dance, his voice soft and sincere.

You nod, “Very much so. It’s not every day I get to dance with Ferrari’s finest.”

Charles smirks, “Glad to be of service. You’re quite the dancer yourself, you know.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re just saying that.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I mean every word.”

Before you can process his statement, Carlos swoops in, teasing, “Mind if I cut in?”

Charles sighs, releasing you, “Go on but save the next one for me.”

Carlos, dancing you away, smirks, “He’s quite smitten with you.”

You laugh, “Oh, stop. We’re just friends.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”

You nod, “Absolutely.”

Carlos, holding you a bit closer, murmurs just low enough so only he can hear, “And he’s not the only one who’s smitten.” The hint of longing in his eyes remains hidden to you as the dance continues.

***

“Welcome to the local side of my home!” Charles exclaims with an open gesture, Monaco sprawling before you in all its glory.

You gaze around, taking in the sights of the city. “It’s beautiful. The tourist traps and casinos really don’t do it justice.”

He grins, obviously proud. “I thought you’d appreciate a personal tour. Ready?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Absolutely.”

Charles leads you through winding streets, each corner revealing another story, another memory. “This is where I had my first gelato,” he shares, pointing at a quaint little shop. “And over there,” he gestures to a narrow cobblestone lane, “is where I learned to ride a bike.”

You chuckle, “Really? These streets seem a bit treacherous for a kid on a bike.”

He laughs, “Let’s just say there were a few scrapes and bruises.”

As you continue, Charles points out his favorite viewpoints, cafes, and even his childhood home. It’s an intimate glimpse into his world and you feel honored.

“You know,” you say, pausing to gaze out over the harbor, “it’s one thing to know someone as a colleague and it’s another to really know them. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles looks at you, genuine warmth in his eyes. “I wanted you to see where I come from, the place that shaped me. Who better to share it with than you?”

You smile, touched. The two of you continue, with Charles occasionally slipping his hand into yours, guiding you along.

Towards the end of the tour, you stop at a cozy café overlooking the sea. As you sip your drinks, Charles leans in, his tone serious. “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You look up, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Before he can speak, his phone rings. Glancing at the caller ID, Charles sighs. “It’s the team. I have to take this.”

You nod, understanding. “Go ahead.”

When Charles hangs up, he looks apologetic. “I’m so sorry. Duty calls.”

You smile, reassuringly, “It’s okay. Today was special. Thank you.”

Charles nods, hesitating for a moment, as if wanting to say more. Instead, he simply leans in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Until next time.”

***

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” you mutter, noticing the looming dark clouds as you hurry through the paddock.

Before you can take another step, raindrops start to fall, quickly morphing into a torrential downpour. You’re caught in the middle, water soaking your clothes and making your paperwork soggy.

From a distance, Carlos notices your plight. “Y/N!” He calls out, already running towards you with an umbrella in hand.

By the time he reaches you, you’re thoroughly drenched, strands of hair stuck to your face. “Took a sudden shower, did we?” He teases, even as he huddles you under the umbrella.

You chuckle, shivering slightly, “It seems so. Thanks for the rescue.”

Carlos slips off his jacket and wraps it around you. The warmth of it, combined with his scent — a mix of cologne, fresh rain, and something uniquely Carlos — is comforting.

“You’re getting soaked!” You protest, noticing his wet shirt clinging to his toned body.

Carlos just shrugs, “You needed it more than I did.”

As the two of you find shelter from the storm, the tension between you is palpable. The rain has created a sudden intimacy and you’re both acutely aware of each other.

“Better?” Carlos asks, his voice softer than usual, noticing you inhaling the scent of his jacket.

You nod, cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Smells like ... well, you.”

He smirks, “Is that a good thing?”

You glance up, meeting his gaze, “Definitely.”

There’s a pause, a shared moment where neither of you needs to speak. The rain pattering outside creates a rhythmic backdrop to the charged atmosphere.

Carlos breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “Y/N, I …”

You lean in, “Yes?”

Just then, a gust of wind blows the umbrella out of Carlos’ hand, startling the both of you. The sudden distraction breaks the intensity of the moment and you both laugh at the absurdity of it.

Carlos, trying to chase the runaway umbrella, calls out, “Rain check?”

You laugh, trying to calm your racing heartbeat, “Quite literally.”

***

“You won’t believe what Carlos did this time,” Antonio, one of the lead engineers, whispers to Paolo, a senior mechanic.

You’re nearby, checking the equipment for the upcoming practice session, but their hushed conversation catches your attention.

Paolo chuckles, “Can’t be crazier than what Charles tried last week.”

Antonio smirks, “Trust me, it’s right up there. Both of them, head over heels, and all for the same girl.”

Your curiosity piqued, you edge closer, feigning interest in a nearby tire. “Who is it?” You wonder internally, trying to think of any new female team members or journalists that might have caught their eye.

Paolo, clearly enjoying the gossip, leans in, “You think she has any idea?”

Antonio shakes his head, “Nope. She’s completely in the dark. It’s actually kind of adorable how clueless she is.”

You bite your lip, even more intrigued. “Who could it be?” You muse.

Deciding to join in the speculation, you casually approach, “Hey, what’s this I’m hearing about someone making our drivers lose their heads?”

Both men look up, surprised to see you so close. Antonio stammers, “Oh, hey Y/N. Just, um, some silly paddock rumors.”

Paolo, trying to divert the topic, adds, “You know how it is. People love making up stories.”

You nod, playing along, “Of course. But, come on, spill. Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”

Antonio and Paolo exchange glances, trying to gauge how much to reveal. Antonio finally speaks, “Let’s just say she’s someone who is always around but seems to be missing all the signs.”

You laugh, “Sounds like she’s got her head in the clouds. I can’t wait to find out who she is.”

Paolo grins, “Oh, it’ll come out eventually. These things always do.”

***

The meet-and-greet in Maranello is packed to the brim. Fans from all over the world have gathered to meet their favorite drivers and the team uniform you’re wearing means you’ve gathered a considerable crowd around you too.

As you sign autographs and chat with fans, you notice a group of them exchanging knowing glances and excited whispers.

“Y/N,” one brave fan begins, “we’ve got a question for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Sure, fire away.”

The fan clears their throat, “We’ve been following you and the drivers closely, and, well, we couldn’t help but notice something.”

You exchange a curious look with them, “Notice what?”

Another fan chimes in, “You see, Charles and Carlos, they ... they seem to be really close, you know, off the track.”

You nod, “Yeah, they’re good friends.”

A third fan interjects, ‘It’s more than that, though. We think they’re totally into someone.”

You chuckle, thinking they’re just indulging in the typical gossip. “Well, they are both very passionate about racing if that’s what you mean.”

The fans exchange disappointed glances. “She really doesn’t get it,” one of them whispers.

But they’re not giving up that easily. Another fan seems to have a plan. “Okay, Y/N, hypothetical scenario. What if these two drivers were in a race not for points but for something else?”

You’re intrigued, “What do you mean?”

The fan grins, “Imagine if they were trying to win someone’s heart and that someone is right here, oblivious to it all.”

You laugh, amused by their playful scenario. “That would be quite the competition.”

They exchange triumphant glances, “Exactly! So, who do you think this lucky person is?”

You shrug, genuinely not knowing who they’re referring to, “I have no idea. Probably some lucky girl out there.”

The fans let out an exaggerated groan, “She really has no clue.”

Another fan leans in, conspiratorial, “What if we told you that this lucky person is not some random girl but someone they work closely with?”

“What do you mean?”

The fans exchange sly grins, “We mean, what if the person they’re vying for is ... you?”

Your eyes widen in surprise and you laugh, thinking they’re just pulling your leg, “Me? That’s crazy. They’re just my friends.”

The fans share a look of exasperation and one of them sighs, “She’s hopeless.”

***

“Alright, everyone, gather around! Intervention time!” Your father announces, drawing you into the center of the group of staff that were gathered on the first floor of the Ferrari motorhome.

You look around, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

Paolo, chuckling, pats your shoulder, “You’ve got the observational skills of a goldfish.”

You pout, “Hey! I notice things.”

Antonio snorts, “Oh, really? Do you recall Monaco? During the team photo?”

You nod, confused, “Yeah, we were all there.”

Antonio grins, “Carlos was standing right next to you. Instead of giving a thumbs-up like everyone else, he made a heart sign with his hands right behind you. Literally, right behind your head.”

Eyes wide, you protest, “He did?”

Your father chimes in, “And remember in Silverstone? When you lost that bracelet your mother gave you?”

You nod, “Yes, I was devastated.”

He continues, “Charles spent the entire night searching for it. He found it at 3 am and then hand-delivered it to your room.”

Antonio adds, chuckling, “Wearing those ridiculous race car pajamas, I might add.”

You blink, processing the information, “I thought I just dropped it while getting dressed ...”

Paolo, shaking his head in amusement, recounts, “During the team BBQ, Carlos grilled those vegetarian sausages especially for you. Remember wondering why we had them?”

Your cheeks turn a shade redder, “I just thought he was being considerate for the vegetarians on the team.”

Your father laughs, “We don’t have any other vegetarians on the team, darling.”

Antonio recalls another incident, “In Spain, during that heatwave? Charles, out of nowhere, had a mini fan delivered to you. Said it was team equipment.”

You gasp, “That was him?”

Paolo, grinning, continues, “Ever wonder who leaves those freshly peeled oranges on your desk every race day? That’s Carlos’ handiwork.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “But … why?”

Your father steps forward, placing a comforting arm around you, “Sweetheart, it’s because they’re both completely smitten with you. And while it’s entertaining for us to watch, it’s also driving the entire team bonkers with every passing day that you don’t realize.”

You look around, taking in the nodding heads and amused expressions, “I ... I had no idea.”

Antonio chuckles, “Clearly.”

Paolo adds, “It’s like watching a rom-com unfold right before our eyes, only you seem to have missed the entire plot.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “Okay, maybe I’ve been a bit oblivious.”

Your father smirks, “A bit oblivious? That’s like saying Ferrari is known for being a bit red.”

Antonio gives you a friendly pat on the back, “Welcome to the real race, Y/N. Buckle up.”

***

Carlos clears his throat, his usual confidence replaced with a rare nervousness, “Y/N, can we talk? Like, really talk?”

You drop what you’re doing, “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Charles, appearing from the shadows, adds, “Actually, I’d like to be part of this conversation as well.”

You’re taken aback. “Alright, you both have my attention.”

Carlos begins, running his fingers through his hair, “You know, racing isn’t just about speed. It’s about timing, making the right move at the right moment.”

Charles nods in agreement, “Sometimes, you wait too long and the opportunity passes you by.”

You squint, trying to decipher their cryptic words, “Are we talking about racing or ...?”

Carlos exhales deeply, “This isn’t about racing. This is about ... us. You, me, Charles.”

Charles interjects, his gaze intense, “It’s about feelings. Ones that have been growing and evolving.”

You swallow, your heart pounding, “I think I know where this is going.”

Carlos, his voice laced with vulnerability, confesses, “Every time I do something hoping it will make you smile, every time I go out of my way just to be near you ... it’s not just because of friendship.”

Charles adds, “And every gesture, every moment we’ve shared, it’s been my way of trying to show you how I feel.”

Your eyes well up with emotion, “I ... I gained an inkling just recently but I still wasn’t sure.”

Carlos takes a deep breath, “We’re not just talking about individual feelings here. What we’re trying to say is we both care for you and we’ve discussed it. We both want to be with you and for the three of us to explore this ... together.”

Charles nods, “We want to navigate this track as a trio. If you’re willing.”

Carlos steps closer, his eyes searching yours, “We just needed you to know. Whatever you decide, we’ll respect it.”

Charles nods, “Just ... take your time. We’re here, no matter what.”

You take a deep breath, “I need some time to think, to process all of this.”

Carlos offers a soft smile, “Of course, Y/N. We understand.”

Charles gently places a hand on your shoulder, “We’ll wait, however long it takes. Your feelings matter to us. You matter to us.”

***

“Safety car deployed, safety car deployed!” The voice over the radio jolts you into high alert.

“What happened?” You ask anxiously, watching the large screen that displays the race.

Your father’s voice shakes slightly, “Multi-car collision at Turn 4. I can’t see which cars are involved yet.”

Your heart races, thinking of Charles and Carlos. “Please, let them be okay.”

Paolo, eyes glued to the live feed, mutters, “This looks bad.”

The images on the screen show plumes of smoke and debris scattered across the track. The safety car slows the procession of vehicles and you can see marshals running toward the crash site.

Suddenly, Charles comes on the radio, sounding strained but intact, “I’m okay but Carlos ... I can’t see Carlos.”

A weight settles in your stomach. Panic floods your veins. “Please, no.”

His race engineer’s voice cracks with urgency, “Carlos, if you can hear me please respond.”

What feels like hours pass but in reality it’s only seconds before Carlos’ shaky voice breaks through, “I’m here ... I’m okay. Got a bit shaken but I’m fine.”

You slump in relief, tears pricking your eyes. The reality of how precious life is and how quickly things can change hits you like a tidal wave.

Once the chaos subsides and both Charles and Carlos are confirmed safe, you rush out to the pits, needing to see them with your own eyes.

Charles, spotting you first, rushes over, his race suit smeared with dirt and sweat. Without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, the tension and relief palpable between you two.

Carlos joins, wrapping his arms around both of you, his breathing still slightly labored from the shock.

You pull away, tears streaming down your face, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Carlos musters up a hint of a smirk, “Didn’t plan to, trust me.”

Charles adds softly, looking deep into your eyes, “It makes you realize what’s really important.”

You nod, your decision clear. The events of the day, combined with the confessions of the previous week, cement your feelings. “Life is short. Too short not to be with who you care about.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Does that mean ...?”

You smile, nodding, “Yes. I want to be with both of you. We’ll figure it all out together.”

***

“France in winter is so enchanting,” Carlos muses as you all stroll through the snow-covered streets of your hometown, having flown there right after the end of the season.

You laugh, “You should see it in spring.”

Charles wraps one an arm around your waist and the other around Carlos, “With you as our guide, I’m sure every season is beautiful.”

The moment you all step into your family home, the familiar smell of your favorite dish wafts through the air. “Ah, maman’s coq au vin!” You exclaim.

Carlos looks intrigued, “What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional French chicken stew,” Charles explains, revealing his fondness for it too.

At the dinner table, your father raises a toast, “To family, old and new.” It’s a nod to Charles and Carlos, welcoming them into the fold.

Throughout the night, more wine is poured and stories are exchanged. Heading about your childhood misadventures makes Carlos chuckle and Charles smirk as your mother brings out the photo album no matter how much you beg her to save you the embarrassment.

Your grandmother pulls you aside and whispers, “It’s beautiful, cherie, how the heart can expand to make room for more love.”

***

Next stop: Monaco. Before you can even ring the doorbell to Charles’ family home, Lorenzo swings it open, his grin wide. “Ah! The infamous new trio. We’ve heard so much about you.”

You laugh, “All good things, I hope?”

Arthur, joining Lorenzo at the doorway, smirks, “Mostly just about how our dear Charles here can’t stop talking about you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, a hint of red tinting his cheeks. “Can we not start with the teasing five seconds in?”

Carlos chuckles, elbowing Charles lightly, “It’s what brothers are for, right?”

Lorenzo nods, winking at you, “Oh, absolutely. You should’ve seen Charles when he was younger. Always getting into mischief.”

Arthur, with a gleeful glint in his eyes, adds, “Remember that time with the go-kart?”

Charles groans, “Do we really have to bring that up now?”

“Oh, but now I’m curious.”

Lorenzo, not missing a beat, narrates, “Our dear Charles decided to modify his go-kart engine. Let’s just say it ended up in the neighbor’s pool.”

Carlos bursts into laughter, “I wish I’d seen that!”

At one point, when Charles steps out to take a call, Lorenzo leans in, “In all seriousness, we haven’t seen Charles this happy in a long time.”

Arthur nods in agreement, “Whatever you two are doing, keep it up. It’s good for him.”

***

The three of you touch down in Spain to ring in the New Year. The evening is filled with laughter, traditional music, and the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked meals. As midnight approached, Carlos’ mother brings out individual bowls filled with glistening grapes.

“You know about the Spanish tradition, right?” Carlos asks.

You shake your head.

Carlos explains, “At the stroke of midnight, for every chime of the clock, you eat a grape. Twelve chimes, twelve grapes. It’s said to bring good luck for the coming year.”

You chuckle, eyeing the bowl, “Sounds easy enough.”

It was not easy.

The first chime rings out and everyone pops a grape into their mouth. By the fourth chime, you’re struggling, laughter bubbling up around a mouthful of the fruit as you desperately try to keep up.

Charles, equally struggling, shoots you a wide-eyed look, grapes nearly falling out of his mouth.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems to have mastered the art, smoothly munching away, though his eyes reveal his suppressed laughter.

As the twelfth chime rings out, you finally manage to swallow the mouthful, gasping for breath air rounded by the hearty laughter of Carlos’ family.

Carlos’ father claps you and Charles on the back, “Well done! You two are practically Spanish now.”

You laugh, wiping away a tear, “I think I’ll need a few more years of practice.”

Carlos grins, wrapping an arm around you, “Don’t worry, we will have many more New Years for you to perfect it.”

***

The sun casts a golden hue on the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore. Your feet are buried in the soft sand and you lean back, enjoying the feeling of warmth on your skin.

Taking a moment to appreciate the surroundings, you sigh, “The view is so breathtaking.”

Charles, reclining beside you with sunglasses perched atop his head, follows your gaze. His eyes, however, are not on the horizon but on Carlos, who’s emerging from the water, droplets glistening on his toned body. Without missing a beat, Charles replies flirtatiously, “Yes, he definitely is.”

Carlos laughs as he approaches, water dripping from him, “You two are impossible.”

You smirk, “Well, can you blame him? You do look quite ... impressive."

Carlos, towel now draped around his neck, grins, “Is that so? Maybe I should spend more time at the beach then.”

Charles mock pouts, “And less time with your car?”

Carlos pretends to think about it, “Tough choice. But I think I can find a balance.”

***

“Look who’s back and glowing!” Paolo greets as the three of you walk into the paddock together for pre-season testing.

Antonio joins in the teasing, “Carlos, you’ve got that sun-kissed tan going on and Charles ... did you forget the sunscreen again?”

Charles laughs sheepishly, touching his slightly reddened nose, “Apparently, I just burn.”

Carlos smirks, “We tried but some people are just destined to be crispy.”

You laugh, nudging Carlos, “Don’t be mean. But … we did have that one day when he turned a shade that matched the Ferrari.”

***

“Here’s to the dream team!” Antonio raises his champagne flute, his eyes shimmering under the bright lights of the party.

Charles, holding his second-place trophy, grins, nudging Carlos who’s proudly holding his first-place one. “Feels pretty good to have another double podium, doesn’t it?”

Carlos laughs, “Only because I’m one step higher!”

“Hey! It was the other way around last weekend,” Charles pretends to sulk.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Children, children. Share your toys nicely.”

Paolo chimes in, “It’s not just about the podium finishes. The energy this season ... it’s been different, more vibrant.”

Charles takes a moment, his gaze flitting between Carlos and you. “Well, happiness does tend to have that effect.”

Carlos wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

***

“You would think that after all these years, I’d have gotten the hang of it,” your father laments, eyeing the bowl of freshly washed grapes in front of him.

Carlos’ mother laughs, patting his arm, “You’ll do just fine this time, Fred. We’ve all been practicing.”

Charles smirks, glancing at his brothers, “Oh, trust me, they’ve turned it into a competitive sport. Last year, Lorenzo managed to eat an extra grape by mistake!”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, “One time! And I blame Arthur for distracting me.”

“Okay, it’s almost time,” Carlos says. “Remember, the key is not to rush.”

You chuckle, “Says the man who’s been acing this since he was a kid.”

Carlos winks, “Natural talent.”

The clock begins to chime, marking the impending arrival of the New Year. Everyone takes their positions, holding their grapes, waiting for the signal.

As each chime rings out, laughter fills the room. The past mishaps with the grapes only make the current attempt all the more entertaining.

When the twelfth chime fades, everyone erupts in cheers. Even your father, much to his delight, has successfully completed it in time.

Charles wraps an arm around you, “Another year, another challenge conquered.”

Carlos steps up to kiss both of you, tasting distinctly of grape, “With many more to come.”

You smile, looking around at the blending of families, the fusion of traditions, and the love that fills the room. “I can’t wait to spend every New Year together with you for the rest of our lives.”

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