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pucksandpower · 1 month

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Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

1K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught.

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request.

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

��Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.”

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

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ladyelissarose · 9 months

Text

‘Reckless’

Summary; Miguel finds out why you’ve been too careless and reckless on missions..

Warnings: an argument between the two- its not to heavy.. mostly hurt/comfort

“Ow-“

You had just flinched your arm away from Miguel when he had grabbed it. You cradled it close to you as he then scolded you firmly, keeping an eye on you as you refused to meet his,

“You lied. It’s not a scratch!! You broke your arm and he almost had your head!!”

You rolled your eyes at his loud words and even scoffed, even though you winced when you tried to put your arm down, trying to show it was ok- which you totally failed at doing. Nonetheless you sighed, annoyance evident in your tone,

“Ok maybe I did! But it’s not that bad-“

With one hand on his waist and the other pointing at you, he snapped,

“You disobeyed orders! You’re making close calls and I don’t like it! Yes we can get hurt on the job, but not like this when you’re making poor choices.”

Feet planted on the ground you tried to keep a steady position and look strong, taking his yelling about safety and all, but in reality you were in pain and felt lightheaded, and slowly you were growing frustrated because of it as Miguel ranted on.

“Come on niña!! (Girl) what’s the matter with you-“

Finally you’ve had enough of his mountain of a man speaking down to you as you were of course shorter… but in his eyes all he saw was you being very careless.

The pain was getting to you, making your emotions swirl out of place, hence why you screamed,

“AND WHAT’S YOUR POINT!?”

Miguel flinched a bit at your unusual behavior with him, but he couldn’t help but let his ego bark back at you with some honesty to wake your head up.

“That you could’ve been killed!! That’s the point! Do you know what kind of problems that would’ve caused? Pain or anything? Cómo puedes ser tan imprudente y no preocuparte por las consecuencias, niña terca?!” (How could you be so reckless and not care about the consequences you stubborn girl!?)

Tears of anger and pain grew in your once sun-shining eyes as you shouted back, trying to reason out your deal,

“Because I have nothing to lose ok!?? Maybe that’s why I don’t care as much!!”

Miguel was about to yell back, but your words caught him off guard. Like if someone sucker punched him.

He didn’t look so bulky or so scary anymore, when he lowered himself onto one knee to get on your level, as he reasoned with curiosity, one hand resting on your good shoulder,

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His brown eyes showed his genuine concern for you, unlike anyone you’ve known. You wanted to keep tough and play as the fearless Spider-Woman you were, but it was made impossible when Miguel got a hold of your cheek, beckoning you silently to speak up.

So at last, you broke and confessed, like a little girl and no longer like Spider-Woman.

Letting the façades you wore tumble down through your tears, into his large hands that would catch and hold them all.

“Nothing.… that I have no one back at home.. no family to mourn me. Bury me. Cover my graves with flowers. Like if I had to put everything aside and boil it down for me- I’m… alone.”

His lips parted a bit, as his eyes searched yours, trying to find the right words to say.

It had been a while since he’s used good encouraging words while being kind, but suddenly it was like a switch that flipped in him, and almost immediately he found the words, and he patted your cheek gently as he cooed, his anger and disappointment long gone.

“You’re not alone. You have me.. and I’ll never leave you out like that. But even then I won’t ever do such.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged a bit and shyed out with his eyes everywhere but on you, mostly cause of the fear it caused him to think of you six feet under, and he knew it’d be seen on him.

“The burying thingy and all.”

‘Oh so he wouldn’t bury me then? Or what?…’

“Oh.. why?”

Disappointment was heard in your voice, and Miguel was quick to address with his eyes on you this time, wanting to show he meant it with every bone and vain in his body,

“Because Dulce, I wouldn’t ever let you die on me. You’re not allowed to die under my watch, te lo prometo.” (I promise you that.)

Shyness took over you as the realization of your craziness, thinking it was ok to give up everything of you, when you had so much to lose.. so you apologized immediately.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t know what I was thinking-“

“Shh shh sh.”

He shushed you right away, letting you know that it was ok as he added,

“It’s ok now.. you’re safe, alive, and here… No más lágrimas mi amada.” (No more tears my beloved.)

With gentle hands he cradled your face and let his thumbs wipe your tears away, refusing to let them fall.

He now wanted to see you cheered up, so he offered with the best smile he could muster.. if not the only one he showed- but just to you.

“You want ice cream after we leave the med? It’ll help with the fever you got.”

Twinkles were shining in your eyes as you replied with a nod,

“please?”

He chuckled at the sight of joy beaming on you, and he then stood up to his full height and took your good hand in his, leading you out as he responded sweetly, squeezing your hand comfortingly,

“of course Dulce-“

Then with a smirk most likely painted on his face, he added,

“-ven mi shadow.” (Come my)

Miguel knew deep down he had thought the same thoughts once, but with you around and so much more? He’d rather deal with the the weight of the good and bad everyday, then leave empty.

#miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel O’Hara x platonic reader #dad miguel o'hara #sunshine x midnight #Miguel x Dulce #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader fluff #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst

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kechiwrites · 5 months

Text

pedagogy

best friend's brother!sukuna x f!reader kinktober day 6 (cum play)

synopsis: "Underneath him is the easiest place to study the family resemblance. Yuuji favours his older brother like crazy, but Ryomen is bigger, broader, older, and leagues more intimidating."

wc: 2.7k

cw: dubcon, fem + afab!reader, cum play, fingering, pulling out as a form of birth control, dirty talk, pet names (angel), semi public, jerking off, mentions of anal play, mdni.

author's note: ough sorry y'all, big developments going on unfortunately but im now on a cruise so we dusting shit off.

“Yuuji! We are supposed to be studying. You can't just sail through college like you did in high school.” You slap your open palm against the wood surface of his bedroom desk, prompting your childhood best friend to drop his phone back into his pocket. For the fourth time in an hour.

Yuuji hadn't the heart to tell you he almost failed high school twice.

“I know!” He shrugs, spinning a pencil in between his fingers while you transcribe his chicken scratch notes into a word document. Initially, you’d been ecstatic to share a handful of courses with your long-time neighbour and friend, especially since you’d attended different high schools. Now, however, with both of you approaching midterm exams, you’re struck upside the head with the reality that dragging Yuuji with you into the realm of academic success is an uphill battle. You finish off a paragraph and push your rolling chair away from his desk, covering both your eyes with the cool palms of your hands.

“Maybe we should take a break.” you sigh, and Yuuji perks up, metaphorical tail wagging.

“Okay!” He chirps and you turn, lightning quick, to glare at him.

“I’m sorry! I misspoke, I am going to take a break and you are going to review chapter 7 and 8, and make notes. And maybe if I feel generous, I’ll bring up a snack for you.” It looks for a moment like Yuuji is going to whine and protest, but another sharp look of censure convinces him to shut up.

Finally, a wise choice.

He scoots to his desk and dutifully opens the textbook, burying his head in the pages. You only leave when you’re sure he’s actually reading, feeling more like a grade school tutor and less like the university study partner you were meant to be. You close the door quietly, now hyper aware of the noise you make in the Itadori household, lest the ghoul that haunts the halls find you.

He finds you.

“Ah, ah, ah. And where do you think you're going?” His voice reverberates through your bones, deep and teasing and so irritating. You can feel his stifling presence as he follows you down the hall, steps deceptively light.

“To the kitchen...? I just wanted to get some tea.” you mutter quietly, eyes pinned to the floor beneath your feet, turning the corner in the hallway to jog down the stairs.

Ryomen follows you down to the first floor, his body so close you can feel his heat against your back. You tried to descend faster but you're worried you'll fall. You're even more worried he'll try to catch you.

When you finally arrive in the kitchen you open the fridge door immediately, praying he'll just get whatever the fuck he wants and leave you alone.

“You letting him fuck you?”

“Excuse you?” you bluster, your temperature shooting up in record time. He looms over you, crowding in close, until he can hook his finger in one of the belt loops of your jeans. He yanks until your side is pressed into the heat of his body, your heart rate skyrocketing in apprehension.

“That how he's paying for your little tutoring sessions? Gotta say, I think you're lowballing yourself, teach.” He stoops down to hiss in your ear, and it’s just to intimidate you, you aren’t that short. His assertion, accusation, makes your skin itch, like his leering gaze is a physical sensation, one you’re eager to get rid of.

“Yuuji and I are friends, and you're fucking disgusting, Ryomen.” You pull away from him, slamming the fridge door closed, snacks forsaken in the interest of returning to the safe haven that is Yuuji’s room. He wouldn’t openly perv on you within view of his little brother.

At least, you hope he wouldn’t.

His grip shifts to your forearm before you can make your escape, and he doesn’t start speaking again until you turn to face him.

“I told you to call me Sukuna.” He smiles, although it’s closer to a sneer.

You take pleasure in biting back, skin on fire where you're connected; “And I told you I’m not using that dumbass nickname, Ryomen.”

He rolls his eyes, and his grip on your arm tightens until it’s painful, before he lets go completely. “You used to be so cute.”

“You used to be…not a scumbag!” You bite, and it’s a weak comeback. But it’s true. He used to be nice, used to walk you and Yuuji from school, ice creams in hand for the two of you. Used to let you cry on his shoulders when you failed a taste or fell off the swing. Now he stares at you with a sharp leer, lips always curled in this infuriating smirk, like he knew something you didn’t, something about you.

It made your skin itch.

Ryomen places his hand on his chest, faux-affronted. “Ow. You know that really hurts my feelings, I thought teachers were supposed to be sweet. Y’know, pillars of the community and all.” He blocks your way when you try to leave, stepping side to side to intercept you.

“What do you want?” You snap, irritation shooting up your spine, making your throat tight. He whistles loud and somehow even that shit irks you.

“How much time do you have?” He brushes his fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. It’s nothing scandalous, it could be seen as modest, even. A simple baseball shirt, three quarter sleeves, clean, thin cotton, but the way Ryomen’s nail scratches at your collarbone makes your entire body shiver.

“For you, Ryo?” Your tone is sweet and sarcastic, drenched in black honey, “None.” You elbow past him, and bound up the stairs, tea and snack long forgotten.

He follows you still, taking the steps two at a time. “Well then I should make this quick.” When you reach the top of the stairs, the elder Itadori sibling snags you around the waist, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you down the hall towards his bedroom. You plant your feet, hoping the drag will slow you down to no avail. It takes your fingers in Yuuji’s bedroom door frame to make Ryomen pause. He scoffs, hiking you up and pressing you to the wall. “Fine, we’ll do it right here.” He pins you with an arm against your clavicle, using his free hand to deftly undo the button of your jeans.

“I will kick you in the nuts!” You dig your fingernails into his forearm and whisper, mindful to not let Yuuji hear you through the door.

“Try it, angel. I’ll make you soothe the bruise with your tongue.”

His hand slips into your underwear easily, deft fingers sliding between your folds, you’re only a little wet, (a shameful by-product of Ryomen’s proximity to you, his scent, his voice) but it’s enough that he notices, it’s enough to turn the smirk on his face into a full blown grin. He skates two fingers back and forth over your clit, pinches it every once in a while, until your hips buck forward, chasing his touch. He slides in between the lips of your pussy, rubbing against your hole insistent enough for you to feel it, light enough for you to crave more.

“I wondered for the longest time if you moaned or screamed. You ever been tongue fucked before?” Your head falls against the wall with a thunk, and you can feel a small moan build up in your chest.

“Yeah,” you pant, staring into Ryomen’s eyes, “about two weeks ago, how is Satoru by the way?” He stalls for a minute, squinting at you, you glare back at him, and he barks a laugh, sharp and abrupt and fucks three fingers into you at once. The force of his hand is so strong it drives you up and down the wall in short bursts, making your shirt ride up, exposing your stomach to him. He presses his lips to your throat, sucking and nipping at the skin there.

"That was funny." He whispers into your ear, but when he pulls back, his expression makes you think he didn’t find it very funny at all.

He fucks you faster, lifting his knee between your thighs, shifting your body further up the wall. He slips the hand keeping you pinned to the wall into the neckline of your shirt, and even through the fingerfucked, braindead haze he’s created in your mind, you’re pissed Ryomen is stretching out the collar of your shirt. His hand works quickly, yanking up your bra as best as he can with your closeness limiting his movement, so he can suck at your nipples through the white fabric covering your chest. You shudder at the sensation and your lips part around a miserable sounding moan, one you force yourself to swallow down so you don’t give Yuuji a reason to peek outside his door. You clench around Ryomen’s fingers, your abdomen tensing and relaxing in an effort to push him out of you, or pull him in? You honestly don’t know at this point because his mouth and hands and even the scent of his stupid fucking hair is turning your brain to scrambled eggs.

Like the French runny kind.

You need to come so badly.

“Hear that?” He goads, and you go ramrod straight thinking he’s talking about Yuuji. “Listen to how wet you are. I thought I was a scumbag? Thought you didn’t like me.” He makes you sound so immature, puts a melody behind the words like a stupid playground song, all while he talks about how loud you’re getting, how you cream all over his hand, your cunt leaking down his wrist.

And maybe you’re sick, maybe all that fanfiction has rotted your brain, but his teasing makes you come fast, hard. You jerk your chin upward and grit your teeth and come, eyes to the sky.

“Oh, oh…There it is.” And lucky you, Ryomen is a chatterbox. He talks you through it, sucking on your earlobe and murmuring to you. “That feel good?” You shake your head and try to buck his fingers out of you. “No, no, don’t fight it. Soak my fingers. I know you can.”

The aftershocks are just as bad, and when he finally lets you go Ryomen brushes his dry hand over your head, sucks your taste off his fingers. Groans like he’s gonna come from that alone. He’s playing it up for your benefit (or humiliation, most likely), you can tell.

“I am gonna beat my dick raw for weeks, thinking of that.” He smiles.

“You are so fucking-” You smack at him with both hands, leaning against the wall so your legs don’t give out.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m picturing your tits in my mouth again.”

“Will you fucking go?” You point at his bedroom and thankfully, the older Itadori beats a hasty retreat, leaving you to right your clothes. And in the nick of time too. The moment you get your jeans back in order, Yuuji pops his head out, pouting at you.

“Where are the snacks?” And it’s not Yuuji’s fault. He didn’t tell his brother to accost you in their home’s hallway, but their hair colour is the same, and he looks like Ryomen did when you were a little girl with a crush and your body is still thrumming with energy you really wish you could ignore.

“Get back in the fucking room Yuuji!” You shout, and only feel a little guilty about it.

To his credit, all Yuuji does is mutter something about you being a taskmaster who starves your workers before he plops back into his desk chair.

You finish the rest of the study session with your arms crossed over your chest to hide the wet spot Ryomen left. By the time you’re on your way back to your own home, Ryomen has blown your phone up with jeering, filthy texts.

But it doesn’t matter.

That was never going to happen again.

HHH

Unfortunately, Ryomen had other ideas. Radically different ideas.

Underneath him is the easiest place to study the family resemblance. Yuuji favours his older brother like crazy, but Ryomen is bigger, broader, older, and leagues more intimidating.

Oddly enough, it's not fucking Ryo that makes it hard to look Yuuji in the eye. No, it's the weird, depraved shit he cheekily calls “extra credit” that earns that distinction. Like the time he stops you from sucking him off to completion so he could jerk off into your open hands while you knelt in front of him, lovely face contorted into a grimace below his hard dick. Or the time he dragged you away from another one of your study sessions, just to press you against Yuuji’s closed bedroom door while he slipped two already lubed fingers into your ass. Or the time he covered your ass in his seed after you’d begged him to pull out of you, only for him to snap clandestine photos of you with your face still in the pillow with his cell phone.

He sends them to you occasionally. He called them “study aids”.

All of it makes Yuuji's unassuming, genuine grin hard to stomach, unbearable even. Makes you constantly want to come clean, to blurt, “I’m fucking your brother, and at first it was definitely a weird, not totally consensual thing but now I’m worried I’m fundamentally changing as a person and I’m scared that I’m forming a toxic dependency with his cock that will haunt me for years even after we eventually part ways.”

Or something.

It doesn’t make sex with Ryomen any less mind blowing, though,

The man takes you apart easily, lifts your leg over his shoulder and batters your insides with startling precision. “Nice and messy for me.” He mutters, eyes on your bouncing chest, every forward thrust he makes pushes you up his bed, and the headboard smacks noisily against the wall.

‘Poor Yuuji.’

You squeeze the leg not brushing Ryomen's ear around his waist, rolling your hips against his, only stopping once your core becomes exhausted. Even then, Ryomen doesn’t stop, sliding your clit between his fore and middle finger rubbing at you with his thumb. “Tight as fuck, aren’t ya? Gonna make me-” His grits his teeth, and groans low in his throat.

“P-pull out!” You stutter, beating your closed fist against his arm. Ryomen tenses and has the audacity to look inconvenienced, still, he slides out from your pussy, fisting at the soaked length of his cock, pushing himself towards his peak. You slide two fingers into yourself, not willing to let your orgasm fade away because Mr. Sure Shot had to nut early. Ryomen grunts above you, pulses of his come landing molten hot against your abdomen. From your vantage point, you can see his eyes become glassy and unfocussed, watch him sink his teeth into the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip. He eyeballs the mess he’s left on you, rubs some of it into your skin with his fingertips, smearing his seed into what you suspect are the characters of his name.

Men.

“Move.” He grunts, pushing at the hand you use to frantically fuck yourself, sandwiching his still wet dick between his thumb and your slit, rocking his hips slow and steady.

His head nudges your clit, the fat tip of his dick sliding over your cunt, using his come to ease the glide. It’s filthy and slick, makes the inside of Ryo’s room sound like a goddamn porno, but your whole body clenches and relaxes everytime he almost slips back inside you.

“Come on, come on, c’mon.” He urges, and the flush on his face, the heavy set of his eyelids and the rapid rise and fall of his chest all broadcast how overstimulated Ryomen is getting, trying to shove you over the edge.

You come mercifully quick from it, your body ceding to the sensation, your clit throbbing near painfully. Ryomen grunts from his exertion, and you’d laugh if you weren’t so busy digging your nails into his shoulders, marking him with raised red welts that end in ten tiny crescent moons.

He pants into your ear as you both come down, making the entire side of your face unbearably warm. It takes a handful of shoves at his shoulder to get him to move off you and when he does, your whole body shivers without his warmth, his come cooling on your overheated skin.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that was worth an A.”

You muffle your scream into his pillow.

support city girls who queue posts incorrectly. reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna x black reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #kinktober 2023 #kechiwrites #ryomen sukuna x reader

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

Text

I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

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

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

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: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

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

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

Text

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Astarion x GN! Reader)

This man has a chokehold on me and I have been plagued by this idea for about a week.

Title inspired by the song "i wanna be your girlfriend" by girl in red

CW: Mentions of violence and gore (not descriptive), bit of angst, comfort

(Not my photo. I believe it belongs to Daily Gaming)

Synopsis- You and Astarion are in the middle of a war to prove who can set the best traps. However, a lack of rules seems to have gotten you into a predicament neither one of you had anticipated.

Sometimes you take it a smidge too far.

You would love to tell people you are some cunning, daring rogue, but the reality is that you are consistently flying by the seat of your pants. Occasionally it works really well- this was not one of those times.

You never felt the need to prove anything to anyone.

Well, until you met Astarion. Within the first three days of traveling with him, your confidence and patience began to wear thin. He would make snide comments when watching you attempt to unlock a chest or when you scare off your prey by tripping over a bush. Then he would smirk at you- with that stupid, beautiful smirk.

He enjoys adding salt to the wound by taking on the task you failed at; usually lock picking, sneak attacks, and Gods only knows what else he could make fun of you for. You are very aware that you are not some fancy rogue and it never bothered you until now. You had accepted long ago that you are just a street urchin moving up in the world after teaching yourself the trade.

The final straw had been when you had placed traps to catch dinner. Your traps had been successful (naturally- traps were your thing) and you brought back three bunnies for Gale’s stew.

Oh, but of course Astarion had something to say. He always has something to say.

“Oh look at that- how cute. I’m sure sheerluck was on your side,” he quips, “You’ll get better eventually.”

Thus began the war of all wars.

It started with small traps- nuisances really. Tripwire, a laughing or sleep rune well hidden, and traps that release horrible smells. Then it quickly took a turn for the worst; what were once harmless pranks turned into trip wires that release a swarm of bees, simple pits began to get deeper, and blasting traps that would send either one of you flying into a nearby object. It was never truly life threatening, just questionable.

Well, except for the bees. The bees were not the greatest thought in hindsight; considering both you and Astarion had to help each other with the bee stings- Shadowheart refusing to be involved. You both laughed and he even complimented you on your cleverness. You swore you could have exploded in that moment.

You have a massive, childish crush on the man and maybe the competition was your subconscious way of getting closer to him. However, your other companions were getting sick of it pretty quickly.

They had all hoped after the Tiefling party that the two of you would put your silly competition to rest so that you could all travel together in peace and they would just have to deal with PDA.

What a silly thing for them to think. PDA hasn't happened, but the pranks did become less risky and less frequent. You were okay with this change.

You feel like you and Astarion have become close friends. Even though your tryst didn’t lead to a romantic relationship as you had hoped, you were happy to have Astarion in your life in any capacity. If that was just as a friend- then so be it.

Which brings us back to the beginning- when you realize that your ‘trap war’ had paper thin rules and the lack of rules just might be the thing that actually kills you on this journey.

All you wanted to do was clean yourself off. It had been one last relaxing day before you set off to the Creche, but you had thought you might treat yourself. Baths were rare and far between these days and you want to enjoy it while you have it. However, you were not planning for a simple snare trap to foil your entire evening.

You get hoisted up into the air, slammed against the tree, and drop all of your belongings- including the knife you brought ‘just incase’. You glared at the knife and put your hand to your blood fountain of a nose.

“Traitor,” you whisper with a pout as you look for a way to escape the trap.

Suddenly, you freeze as instincts kick in. You hear the Gnolls before you see them. Your bloody nose from the impact of the tree had led them to you. They attempt to claw at you- trying to rip you down from the tree. You feel their claws tear into your back, the side of your arms, and one of them even manages to take a swipe at your abdomen as you scramble to escape. The cuts weren't life threatening, but they hurt. A LOT.

You manage to use the rope to pull yourself up onto one of the tree limbs; allowing you to hide some of your body from the Gnolls, but you now have an arrow protruding out of your right thigh so obviously that isn’t working well either.

You bite back tears, frozen in fear. You really did not want to die this way and you certainly didn’t want it to be because of Astarion’s trap. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him.

You can imagine the blame and anger the rest of your companions would direct at him if the worst happened. You imagine the bloodshed- knowing full well that everyone (minus Karlach) would not forgive him for accidentally killing you. Lae’zel would be the first one to put a stake in his chest- her fondness for you is no secret.

Your heart thumps painfully at that thought and your resolve hardens. You will not die because you will not let that happen to Astarion.

You look around, your arms and legs shaking still with the residual shock and fear. You look for any sharp branches, a forgotten knife lodged somewhere, or even something you could cast a cantrip on to distract them. You have no such luck.

You resign yourself to your fate- the tears making a reappearance.

Unless one of your companions finds you first- you are going to either have to wait for the Gnolls to get bored and leave or they are going to kill you.

You pray to every God you can think of that you will survive the night.

_________________________________________________

Astarion is trying to not look so desperate as he reads the first page for the hundredth time.

You had walked off a little over two hours ago- Lae’zel is on watch while the rest of your companions sleep soundly in their bed rolls.

The longer your bedroll remains empty, the more the pit grows in his stomach.

He didn’t know how to navigate your relationship after the tiefling party.

His feelings for you are confusing. The sex had felt different, he enjoys your company immensely, and he likes how warm he feels around you.

Instead of talking to you like a normal person or taking a moment to reflect, he decided to find some common ground- something you could laugh and talk about later. Normalcy.

He set up a snare trap close to the river you were all using to clean off and then a laughter rune trap somewhere on the path to the Creche. Hypothetically, they are very safe traps.

Unless he rigged them wrong? What if you ran into one of them and….

No, I am sure they are just fine.

He doesn’t even believe his own lie.

After about another five minutes, the anxiety rolling in his stomach becomes unbearable so he grabs his daggers and sets off in the direction you had gone two hours earlier.

He walks quickly through the forest, checking his surroundings and looking for evidence that you were close by. As the minutes pass, he feels the hope of finding you safe shrink.

The wind hits his nose and he becomes stock-still.

He smells your blood- an alarming amount of it-in the air as he gets closer to the river. He fears the worst as he goes to look at the trap- hoping you will forgive him- that you are alive. Safe.

He peers through the bushes and his eyes grow wide as the scene before him unfolds.

You are stuck up in the tree- his trap is still around your ankle. You are holding onto the branch like your life depends on it. It probably does since there are five Gnolls circling the tree like vultures.

He can hear your soft broken sobs as arrows fly over you or hit the tree. He notices the arrow in your leg and watches as a second one lodges itself into your calf. You wince and close your eyes tightly- unknown to you that Astarion’s vision is clouded in red and his whole body fills with destructive, hot rage. He also feels fear, but he pushes it away, not ready to explore the why.

He lunges forward, slashing at the Gnolls with so much force that they are practically in half by the time they hit the forest floor. He is a man possessed as he carves his way through all five gnolls and then he climbs up the tree to you.

His chest aches as he looks at you. He will never be able to forgive himself for causing you so much suffering.

“Darling,” he says softly.

You whimper in response and when you look at him- he feels all the air leave his lunges. If he needed air, he would have passed out right then. Your eyes were glassy with traces of fear, sadness, and loneliness- all emotions he is all too familiar with. Then you see it’s him and the biggest smile crosses your lips and you look at him with so much affection he almost feels ill. This was not the plan and he almost made you a midnight snack for a group of Gnolls.

“You found me,” you say in a raspy, raw voice, “I thought I was going to be stuck here all night until Karlach or Gale found me. Or I was going to die.”

You chuckle, but Astarion can’t get himself to share your same enthusiasm about his rescue mission as he cuts the rope.

He helps you down the tree and safely back on the ground. Astarion winces as you pull the arrows out of your leg. You find a healing potion amongst your things and chug it.

He collects your stuff for you. You give him another one of those brilliant smiles and Astarion tries to smile just as brightly back. You furrow your brows, but he turns away before you can keep analyzing him.

“We should head back,” Astarion mumbles.

______________________________________________

The silence hangs in the air as Astarion walks with you back to camp. After about 15 minutes, you are back at camp and the tension in the air is suffocating.

“Astarion.”

Astarion freezes, turns on his heels, and looks everywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t bare to see you smile at him again- look at him like that again- not after he almost killed you.

You maneuver yourself so you are looking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” he begins to protest when you shush him, “we didn’t set any rules and the trap itself was harmless. We didn't account for Gnolls when we started this whole thing.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“But you didn’t. It easily could have been you in that situation and me saving you.”

“Will you please stop being so Gods damn forgiving,” he huffs with exasperation as he feels tears prick his eyes, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I put your life in danger. I almost-”

Lost you. He chokes on the words. The fear from earlier begins to come back to the front of his mind. Watching you cling to that tree, crying, and in pain had made him realize that you just might be more important to him than he cares to admit. However, that’s a conversation for another time- once he sorts out what that feeling in his chest is whenever he looks at you.

You look at him sharply, your eyes raw with sadness, “Stop that right now. I am okay. I lived. It was a mistake and I know your intentions were not bad. You don’t have anything to worry about Star.”

He doesn’t say anything and you hang your head.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I should go-“ Astarion pauses as you interrupt him.

“Please don’t leave,” you whisper, “I rather enjoy your company.”

You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. He stares at you in stunned silence, searching your face for any sign of deception, but he doesn't find it. His body moves before his brain can process what he is doing.

Astarion gently cradles your face in his hands and kisses you slowly, softly. He smiles despite himself when a gasp leaves your lips. You're alive and safe. When the warmth in his chest begins to spread throughout the rest of his body, he pulls away and steps back. Your face is flushed, a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes before you shyly smile. Astarion could have melted in that moment. He finds himself smiling too.

“Well I’m assuming that means you are going to stay?”

“I suppose I’ll stay,” he says while tapping his chin, “you do need someone to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble like that again.”

You feign hurt and scoff, “Are you suggesting that this was my fault?”

“Maybe if you were better with traps that wouldn’t have happened,” Astarion teases.

You narrow your eyes at Astarion and you try to hold back a smile. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

You start towards camp before you pause and turn around. Astarion gives you a confused look.

You run over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. He tenses for a moment before relaxing again. You look at him sweetly, a soft smile on your lips.

“Good night Astarion.”

As you saunter towards your respective tents, Astarion takes one last glance at your tent- at you- before he lays down with his book. Except he still can’t get past the first page- he is too anxious for the sun to come up so that he can see your smile again.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 companions

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rainydayathogwarts · 10 months

Note

hi ml! was wondering if i could req a ron x popular!shy!reader? like his friends tease him because they don’t know how he landed her and they think she’s the more outspoken and dominant one but in reality he is and makes her flustered 24/7:) maybe smut if you want but no pressure! thank you <33

So apparently I'm in my Ron era Warnings: Hinting to bi reader, suggestive This isn’t as good as i wanted it to be but enjoy!

You turn to your close friend Hannah when Professor Snape gives the go ahead to start your potions, giving her a look and you both look down into your textbooks to hide your wide grins and bubbling giggles.

"Why hasn't he yelled at us once today though?" Hannah whispers, heading to the ingredient cabinets with you on her heels. "Probably got some head or something." You respond with a shrug only to have Hannah scoff and mutter a quiet "Right" which causes you both to erupt with laughter at the back of the classroom.

"Ladies! Is it necessary for me to tell you to shut it every. Single. Class." Snape roars from the front, his face turning red when you only break down even more at the irony, both of you turning to lean on something.

"That's enough! Ten points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!" Your hand flew over your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, your laughter only ceasing when a harsh kick on the back of your leg is delivered by Hermione.

"Oh no please keep it up, you'll only make it easier for Slytherin to win the house cup this year." Pansy states, winking at you as she walks back to her table. Hannah shuffles closer to you, whispering "I bet she has the fattest crush on you. And don't forget her little friends over there."

You look back at Hannah, jokingly flicking your hair over your shoulder. "After that kiss in third year? Of course she has a crush on me." You both sit down at your table, and you start sorting out the ingredients as Hannah flicks through her textbook to find the right page. "Hey Lav? What page is the potion on?" You ask the girl facing you, who stutters as she tells you the number.

Thanking her, you manage to catch the eye of your boyfriend across the room, noticing his other friends glancing at you and you tilt your head, smiling softly at him. He looks down so you avert your gaze, instead starting to chop up some fluxweed seeds.

On the other side of the classroom, Seamus Finnigan mimics your movements rather clumsily as he wanders off into a conversation with the other boys on the table "No you don't understand, every guy in the school wants her and every girl wants to be her. So how did you manage to get her? You don't know how to talk to pretty girls."

"He was probably seduced." Chimes in Dean nonchalantly. "She charmed him hard enough that he got in bed and let her ride him until sun down. She was satisfied with what she saw and decided to keep him around." They all look up, starting to chuckle at Ron's reaction, and add onto the teasing until Neville looks like he's about to explode.

Ron feels his cheeks go ablaze and he looks up, watching you smile at something Hannah said. As much as he wanted to flaunt the fact that he was the one to approach you, he knew that your popularity painted you as a maneater. No one would believe him. Even as he walks up to you at the end of class, offering you his hand, he feels the boys’ eyes on you both, ignoring the rosy colour that appears on your cheeks. You giggle, taking Ron’s hand, and together you walk down to the Great Hall for lunch.

You sit next to Ron with his friends listening to Harry, who brings up the topic of romance once more, complaining about his failed attempts to ask Cho out. He looks at you and asks “How do I just ask her? I’ve backed out every single time.” You shrug, pointing at your boyfriend “Ask Ron, he was perfectly fine making the first move on me.”

Your response brings an unusual silence within the friend group. “Ron? Ron made the first move?” Hermione finally says, which brings alive a lot of questions from the surrounding teenagers.

“Wait I don’t understand… You guys didn’t think I was the one who came onto him did you??” You interrupt, feeling your face start to heat up again. “Yes we did!” States Seamus “This whole time you’ve been the popular girl who for some reason went for this thick in the head ginger! But he’s the one who charmed you… I see now.”

Ron scoffs and shakes his head, pushing his drink away from him and he stands up, offering you his hand once more. You take it, following him, and shrug at Hermione who gives you a questioning look.

“I’m sorry about them, but i think i have something that can distract you from their questions.” You hum, cocking one head to the side. “And what would that- Oh!” You squeal as Ron pulls you into an abandoned broom closet, firmly pressing his lips to yours, as you shyly place your hands on his chest, pushing him away from you. “You couldn’t wait could you?” You question him, gently pulling him back in, but it’s only when he presses himself against you that you understand why.

#ron wealsey x y/n #ron wealsey #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley smut #ron weasley #harry potter oneshot #harry potter angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #golden trio era #golden trio #hogwarts #shy!reader #rainydayathogwarts

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perlelune · 10 months

Text

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in.

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan.

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends.

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality.

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind.

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour.

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship.

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week.

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf.

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step.

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night.

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy.

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again.

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead.

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him.

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions.

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up.

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face.

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends.

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air.

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes.

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you.

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face.

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile.

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her.

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon.

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans.

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door.

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead.

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms.

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks.

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose.

"Cute?" you suggest.

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you.

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed.

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily.

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers.

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback.

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor.

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs.

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face.

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert.

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice.

You can’t back down.

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain, "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name.

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game.

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus.

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him.

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you.

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile.

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly.

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh.

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath.

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips.

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider.

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you.

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly.

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium.

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you.

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once.

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?"

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away.

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his.

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily.

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start.

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on.

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours.

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs.

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

#ethan landry x reader #scream fanfic #bimbo!reader #scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream #dark!ethan landry #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

Text

in the late night, in a disguise

alternatively: of course people recognise her at 3am

in which logan has to dress entirely differently to run some late-night errands with her in the uk

(series masterlist)

"are you sure this is discreet enough for me to be seen holding your hand in public?" was what logan had asked her about an hour ago before they stepped out of their apartment.

discreet enough meant an oversized puffer jacket that covered nothing, and a simple cap to sort of shield himself away from being recognised too quick. though, the argument he tried to race was that he's not worried it would be him that would be spotted; it's her after the year she just had.

she simply answered him with a: "it's three in the morning, nobody's out on the streets at this time of the hour."

what she failed to factor in was that there's a local club that will close during the time they arrive at the convenience store about two blocks from their apartment.

logan's eyes widen at the crowd that's spilling out from the doors up ahead and drops his head low, pulling the hat further down his head as if it would help him shield himself from the reality of being found.

his oblivious girlfriend, however, keeps her lingering stare on the half-tipsy and stumbling bouts of clubgoers. she taps her fingers against the back of his, swinging their hands gently as he pushes the door open to reel her away from being recognised with his hand in hers.

"hm, what were we planning on getting again?" she asks softly, scanning the empty convenience store. "i want orange juice. could you help me find orange juice?"

"absolutely. meet at the cashier in 5 minutes?" logan asks, squeezing her hand very quickly as she tears herself away from him.

"okay. don't get anything stupid, logan."

"what makes you say that?"

"just don't," she sighs, flashing him one last smile before she disappears into the aisle right by the fridge.

five minutes pass by quicker than logan expected because he's still staring at the shelves of instant noodles. he just can't simply figure out which exactly he wants to get and eat once they make their way back.

perhaps meeting her a minute or so late wouldn't hurt. so he takes his time contemplating a list in his head, comparing flavours and brands before he settles for a pack of noodles that she would also very much enjoy.

while he walks the aisle leading towards the cashiers, he catches a glimpse of the pink jacket she's decided to wear out tonight. a smile stretches his lips as he calls out to her, "babe, sorry i'm late. i was- oh no."

when he steps out from the corner, catching a glimpse of the area, there's a group of three girls with beaming grins and their phones out. their eyes quickly shift over to him, their eyes widening even more as they slowly process the word that's just been said.

one girl, who had been in the middle of retouching her lipstick for a picture with the (y/n), drops her hand in shock as she looks at logan. then she looks at the driver in pink. "you guys are-"

"i'll pay you good money not to tell anybody," his girlfriend quickly says, hands darting out to gently touch her shoulder with pleading eyes. "can you guys keep a secret?"

"depends, how much are you willing to give to keep it a secret?" one of the girls giggles, a hand covering her lips. though, she straightens her back and her smile disappears when the driver's eyes start to tear up. "wait, i'm joking. of course, we can keep a secret!"

his girlfriend sniffles, wiping her nose on the cuff of her jacket. "are you sure? i can pay you something, i swear!"

"(y/n), no," logan says softly, pulling her back a couple of steps into his body. with a hand protectively on her shoulder, he smiles at the girls, tilting his head. "yeah, we are, but like... in secret."

one of the girls giggles, grabbing her friend's shoulder. "see, i told you they're dating."

the girl with her lipstick in hand, smiles before she puts it away into her bag once more. "that's cool," she admits with a nod. "can i take a picture with your girlfriend, though? meeting her is cooler than finding out something everybody speculates every other week."

"oh," the driver whispers, patting her eyes to dry the tears that had formed. "you think i'm cool?" she turns to logan and tugs at his jacket. "she thinks i'm cool."

"are you kidding?" another girl snorts. "you easily beat those guys on the track - you're amazing."

logan steps forward and puts his things down in the same place she'd momentarily put her stuff. he takes her phone from her jacket pocket and steps out. "absolutely. she's pretty cool, right?"

— bonus

"i can't believe they thought i was cool," she squeaks, tapping her card against the reader. "can you believe that? i'm getting recognised outside the paddocks."

"you're pretty cool, babe," logan grins giddily, holding the door for her as she walks in. "i think i lucked out asking you to be my girlfriend."

she rolls her eyes, waving away his statement. she presses the button to call for an elevator, then takes a step towards him. she tugs at the hem of his shirt as she leans into him and she looks up. "sorry someone saw us. you were right - we should have just stayed in."

"it's okay as long as you're okay with it," logan smiles, leaning down to chastely kiss her. "but this will happen more. you're growing to be quite the household name. i'm convinced i'm retiring as a wag rather than an f1 driver."

she frowns. "don't say that! next season will be much better for you."

"for us."

taglist: @myxticmoon

#tine is right #i really AM making a home out of the ls2 tag #somebody needs to stop me i fear #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

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turtletaubwrites · 3 months

Text

The Only One I Want

Thank you anon for this request! It was fun to reverse the situation from this fic, Just a Dream. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Ace x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader (just a little dream)

Word Count: 1657

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have a delicious dream about a certain swordsman. Your boyfriend, Ace, is not pleased when you wake up.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Alcohol, Swearing, Smut, Angst, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jealousy, (not really), Sex Dream, Blow Jobs, Spit, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, but barely and over clothes, Cheating, but it's not real, just a dream, Pet Names

A/N: Just wanna take care of this hot lil guy 🔥🥺

Ace could fall asleep anywhere.

You, on the other hand, were feeling antsy. The creaking of this unfamiliar ship was doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Easily slipping away, Ace’s heavy arms fell limp without you to hold.

You felt pulled somehow, not knowing where you were going until you climbed up to the crow’s nest.

“Oi! You want some?”

You stumbled at the gruff voice, hands slipping on the railing. You had a split second of fear as your body went backwards, but a warm hand gripped your forearm, pulling you into the crow’s nest.

“Fuck, sorry I almost killed you.”

Zoro’s voice didn’t sound sorry, edged with laughter. But you were too busy catching your breath, your hands on your knees while your heartbeat failed to calm down.

Standing to face him, you grabbed his bottle of liquor, and took a burning swig.

He chuckled, taking the bottle back, and setting it on the bench.

His hands grabbed your hips, digging into the thin fabric of your pajamas as he yanked you toward him.

“What are you-”

A surprised moan escaped you as Zoro’s lips found the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking up to your ear.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You moaned again, weakly pushing against him.

“We-We shouldn’t…”

“Okay. Tell me you want me to stop.”

He teased those words as he nibbled your ear, and pressed you against him, the rock hard length of him pressing between your clothed bodies.

Your knees went weak as he slid to the ground. His hot breath pushed through your clothes as he brought his mouth down to your pussy, his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the soaked fabric, your body betraying your desire.

A low laugh vibrated through him, making your head tilt back to moan toward the stars.

His hot tongue licked you through your shorts, bringing your eyes back to his while your fingers tangled into his green hair.

“Do you want me to stop,” he asked, his voice coming out in a dangerous whisper.

“Don’t stop, Zoro…”

“What?”

Another moan left your lips as you saw the look in Zoro's eyes, but your fingers were clenching sheets instead of green hair.

“Hm,” you moaned, stretching as your brain crawled its way back to reality.

What a crazy dream. That would never happen. But wow…

A sliver of morning light peeked through the heavy curtains, and your eyes fell on Whitebeard’s jolly roger, inked across your boyfriend’s back.

“Good morning,” you said with a smile, stretching across the bed to touch him.

He stiffened at the contact, and your stomach dropped. Pulling yourself up, you crawled to him, hating the tightness on his face when you pulled him toward you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, still not meeting your eyes.

“Ace, honey, is everything okay?”

His eyes met yours for just a moment, hurt stinging in them, and you tensed.

“Do you want me?”

His words were low, almost hard to hear, but they pierced through you.

“Of course I want you! What’s going on?”

His shoulders slumped, but he let you guide his face to yours, your hand on his cheek as you waited for him.

“I heard you. You were dreaming about Luffy’s first mate... You wanted him.”

You crawled to sit closer, and you shook your head, holding his hands in yours.

“Ace, baby, it was just a dream. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I promise. Dreams are just crazy sometimes.”

He nodded, but the sadness on his face tore at you. You wrapped him in your arms, running your hand along that tattoo, his pride, wracking your brain for how to fix this.

“Please, Ace. You’re the only one I want.”

“Don’t pity me.”

His words would have been harsh if they hadn’t been so small. Thankfully, he didn’t pull away from your touch.

Bringing your forehead to his, you took in a breath, willing him to believe you.

“I’m not saying this out of pity, Ace. I’m saying it because it’s true. I’m yours, baby. I don’t want anyone else, ever. I want you.”

You brought a hand to his heart, wondering why this hurt him so deeply.

I don’t ever want to see him hurt like this again.

His eyes drifted closed as he took a shaky breath, his hand reaching up to press yours against his chest.

He pulled back a bit, meeting your gaze with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Ace. You’re stuck with me.”

He huffed a laugh, the small sound calming the strain in your body.

“You hurt my feelings.”

The tease let you breathe, shaking your head as you pushed against him gently.

“I’m sorry, I can’t control my dr-”

“How ya gonna make it up to me?”

Your mouth dropped open, his cheeky smile returning so fast it almost gave you whiplash.

“Were you… Were you fucking with me?”

He crawled back to the center of the bed, laying against the headboard with his hands behind his head. He flashed you a wink making you question everything.

“First you dream fuck another man, now you’re calling me a liar? I didn’t know my sweet girl could be so cruel,” he pouted, turning his face away from you.

“Wait,” you sighed, grabbing his chin and dragging him back, narrowing your eyes at his shit eating grin.

“You are the only one I want, Ace. Even if you are a little shit sometimes.”

“You know you love me.”

“I do,” you admitted with a laugh, leaning down for a kiss.

His teasing words stopped you before your lips touched, his breath mingling with yours.

“Prove it, sweetness.”

Sucking your teeth, you watched his eyes, lit with joy as if his flames were hiding behind them.

You honestly couldn’t tell if he’d really been hurting before now that he was teasing. It had seemed so real, but he doesn’t usually show pain like that. It irked you that you couldn’t tell, especially since the thought of him feeling so hurt made your own heart ache.

Your eyes narrowed at his devilish smirk, and you decided you’d do whatever it takes to keep that pain off his face, whether this time had been fake or not.

I’ll make sure he knows he’s wanted. I’ll make sure he knows he’s loved.

You leaned over him, leaving a soft kiss on those smirking lips, waiting until his hum of contentment before hooking your fingers in the fabric, and tugging his boxers down his toned legs. His long cock sprung free, getting harder with each second that he watched you.

Stealing another soft kiss, you brought your lips down his jaw, breathing along his ear.

“I love you. I want you.”

A small gasp left his lips, and you smiled against his skin as he threw his head back on the pillows. You licked the column of his throat as he bared it for you, making your way slowly down.

His flesh was so warm in your mouth as you kissed, licked, and sucked, relishing in the little shakes and noises he made. Teasing his nipples brought the cutest noises, until he frowned down at you.

“Now you’re just teasing,” he whined, pouty lip making you want to bite it.

“Sorry, you’re just so tasty,” you said, licking his nipple again. You laughed your way down at his wiggles of protest, before breathing over his twitching length.

He let it twitch again, hitting your lips before you reached for it.

“You’re so needy.”

His mock outrage was cut short when you pressed a soft, wet kiss to his tip, swirling his precum around your tongue. You wrapped one hand around the base, letting the other play with his balls.

Ace always ran hot, his whole body radiating warmth, no matter what the temperature was.

But his cock was something else, the heat of it inside you intense, and delicious.

“F-Fuck, baby girl… Your lips feels soo good- Fuck, just like that.”

There was nothing like making this man whimper.

You took your time, teasing, sucking, letting his tip slide out of your mouth with a pop.

He watched you the whole time, and you let it show in your eyes how much you want him.

Finally taking him fully into your mouth, feeling his veins slide along your tongue, you started fucking him with your throat. Breathing through your nose, you let spit drip down his shaft, meeting your hand at his base as you started to push yourself further, wanting more and more of him.

“Gods, Y/N, how do you feel this fucking good?”

His voice was strained as you looked up, tears dripping as you shoved him into your throat.

Ace met your eyes and moaned, back arching as he tried to warn you.

“Fuck, baby, I’m…”

But you knew, you could feel the veins pulsing in his way too hot cock. You relaxed as he twitched, letting his come practically burn down your throat, filling you with heat that sent shivers over your skin.

Ace’s hips stuttered, forcing himself a bit further into you as he came, his body making sure you took it all.

Panting as you pulled away, sweat beaded along your skin.

“Come here.”

His hands found you, pulling you up and into his arms as you coughed, still trying to breathe.

He pressed himself against your back, burying his face in your neck, and you waited.

“Ace,” you asked softly, voice still recovering.

“Thank you.”

You wriggled against him, too fucking hot now, but he squeezed you closer.

You turned your head toward him, but he held you too tight to see his face.

“I love you, Ace. You’re the only one I want. You’re my one and only, hot stuff.”

He hummed, pressing warm lips behind your ear.

“I love you too, sweetness.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

a/n: I hope you enjoyed it! This guy deserves all the love 🧡🔥

buy me a coffee ☕💜

#portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace x reader #zoro smut #zoro x reader #one piece smut #reader Insert #fem!reader #smut #mine #one piece x reader #fic requests #anonymous #inbox #x reader #turtletaub fics #cw cheating

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ellieluvr420 · 3 months

Text

Friends? Never. Pt.6 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

Sorry this is a shorter chapter and a lot of speech but I felt like you guys needed to see this because I think it is just too cute

"Leave me alone."

"No Ellie, I need to change your bandages."

"No fuck off I'm sleeping."

"Well you're obviously fucking not. Stop being such a baby."

"Hey I am a wounded hero right now okay? You should be nice to me."

"A hero would not be being this much of a pussy about having their bandages changed."

"Ughhhhhhhh." She groans and throws her head back which is about the best temper tantrum she can throw as a result of the throbbing pains all over her body.

"I'm gonna start with the one on your stomach okay." You explain gently as you lift her top to expose the bandages wrapped around her torso. She had been grazed by a bullet shot by one of her team as they were trying to shoot the clicker that had grabbed hold of her and there was a large bruise painting her back purple and blue from where she had been slammed down onto the floor so hard as she had explained. You had seen all the wounds multiple times now as you've changed her bandages throughout the past night and day but the sight of them still never failed to make you feel nauseous. Your lower lip had wobbled and the familiar lump in your throat had returned when you inspected them for the first time and you still have to push the same feelings down now. "This is gonna sting okay, I'm sorry." You warn her before pouring alcohol over the graze wound. She hissed and writhed a little while calling you multiple names under her breath but you could tell she was forcing herself to stay as still as possible to make it easy for you. "You know the drill." She groans and turns on her uninjured side so that you can rub the ointment Maria had dropped round over the bruise on her back. The small whine she let out as your hand soothed over the bruise made your stomach drop but it also caused a heat to grow between your legs that you huffed at, now was not the time but your body disagreed with you. You take your time wrapping fresh bandages round her and then gently guide her to lay back once again.

"How about we do the other ones in ten minutes?" You sigh at her with a displeased look on your face until she squeezes your arm. "Please, just let me catch my breath okay?"

You had been so focused on making sure the wounds were clean and dressed that you hadn't noticed the blatant pain turning her face grey. "Yeah, of course. Just relax." Ellie had never been weak, so seeing her in such agony made your heart clench for her. You sat at her bedside while she laid staring at the ceiling taking as deep breaths in and out as the pain in her torso would let her. You watched as the colour returned to her face slightly until her bright but tired eyes turned to you as she offered a little nod signalling she was ready to go again.

You focused on her face this time, repeating the same steps of cleaning the cuts with alcohol and rubbing ointment onto the bruises as carefully as possible. You trace your finger over the jagged edges of the large cut over her cheekbone and sigh. "Are you sure you don't want me to stitch this? This is going to be a bad scar." You pout at her a little.

"No I'm good, let's keep the stitches for the life threatening injuries yeah? Besides girls think scars are hot so this will give me game." She smirks and immediately winces at the sudden movement as you roll your eyes.

"Oh do they now?"

"Yeah 100 percent, you can't tell me you're not getting hot looking at me right now." She eyes you knowingly and you scowl.

"I can and I am. I think it would be way hotter if you let me stitch it up because it's still bleeding Ellie it's been almost a full 24 hours since you got it. Can't have you passing out on me from blood loss can we?"

"How about we let me pass out from blood loss and then you stitch me up?" She gives you puppy eyes and you shake your head in disagreement. "Fine, you can stitch me up but you better do a good job."

"Are you kidding I'm a pro." You say as you're already running over to the medical bag Maria had dropped over with the ointment to grab the needle and thread. You walk back over to Ellie as she eyes you with a grumpy expression. "Promise I'll be quick." You offer a small smile but she just looks back up to the ceiling bracing herself for what was coming next.

"Ow, fucker." She mutters as the needles pierces her skin for the last time before you tie off the stitch with a triumphant smile. You let out a shaky breath you hadn't realised you were holding and her eyes snap to yours.

"Were you nervous? You stuck a needle in my face while you were nervous?"

"No I just didn't want to breathe in your face. I had some pickles with my lunch."

"Ew you're so gross but I can literally see your hands shaking right now you liar!" You put away the thread and leave the needle on the side to deal with later as you walk back over to her with a small handheld mirror.

"Fine I was nervous but look how much better that looks hm." She runs a finger over the stitches and hands the mirror back to you.

"Thank you." She forces out under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh don't be a dick." You laugh as you sit back down by her bedside.

"Another ten minutes?"

"Yeah, please." She smiles as you both remain quiet letting her gather herself for the wounds you had to tend to on her arms and legs. There was a large gash up her thigh that you had already stitched yesterday and smaller cuts and bruises littering the rest of her legs. Her arms were okay, only minor injuries here and there but there was one cut on the back of her arm that she hadn't let you see yet, she had insisted that it was just easier for her to deal with that one because of the placement and because it was gross and after a heated argument last night you had given in and let her have her way.

She nodded at you once again and you repeated the process on her legs and arms until you got to the bandage covering the mysterious cut. You steadily started reaching to unwrap it until her free hand grabbed your wrist so hard it hurt and her knuckles went white as she pulled your hand away with a scowl on her face.

"Are you actually being serious Ellie? I've tended to all of your wounds and stitched two of them, why won't you just let me see it?"

"I already told you so just mind your fucking business." At her words you stood from your position kneeling over her with a dark look in your eyes.

"Mind my fucking business? Watch your fucking mouth." You spit at her as her face contorts into an expression that was a mixture of guilt and fear. "I've stayed by your bedside since I dragged your ass home. I've fed you, I've treated you, I've done everything for you and you tell me to mind my business. This is my business! This became my business when you didn't come home when you said you would last night and I had a heart attack thinking you were dead."

"You say that like its my fucking fault."

"It's not your fault Ellie but you're being a prick right now. Show me what's under the fucking bandage."

"No." She huffs and looks away from you and back up to the ceiling until you grab her chin and angle her face towards yours that was a picture of rage and awfully close to hers.

"Show. Me. The. Cut. Or I will walk out right now and leave you to deal with all of this yourself." There is nothing on your face that says you aren't being dead serious right now so she sighs and nods defeatedly.

"Okay fine. But I need to tell you something first, can you please sit down." Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you contemplate for a moment before sitting down on the chair you had spent the past 24 hours perched on. "Please don't freak out."

"I'm not going to, just spit it out."

"Okay." She holds out her tattooed arm to you and your eyebrow raises. "See this scar under here. That is a chemical burn I gave to myself."

"Okay?"

"I gave myself the chemical burn to cover what was underneath. When I was 14 I was bitten by a runner before Joel found me and took me in, nothing happened, obviously, because... I'm immune."

Your first instinct is to laugh but the look of pleading and desperation in her eyes tells you she's serious and your face drops. "You're immune?"

"Yeah, I was bitten when I was 14 and like I said, nothing happened okay? So please don't freak out." She holds her arm out to you for you to unwrap the bandage and as you do you gasp quietly at the sight of the bite mark. The skin around it was raised and there were pulses of purple running under the skin as well as small blisters and scabs, the bite mark itself was red and raised and as you go to run a hand over it she slaps it away. "Put gloves on."

"Oh come on, touching it isn't going to infect me."

"I don't care, put them on anyway." You roll your eyes and go back over to the bag to retrieve a pair of gloves that you snap on before racing back to her and taking her arm in your hands gently.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Joel, obviously, Maria and Tommy do too but that's it so you can't tell anyone, please." She looks panicked as if she's expecting you to run out of the house and organise a witch hunt against her but you don't. You stay frozen staring at the bite mark running your fingers over the bumpy surface as gently as possible.

"I'm not going to tell anyone Ellie, don't worry. What have you been doing to it so far?" She's taken back by your calmness but she gulps and presses on.

"Nothing really, it will heal over with time, I've just been cleaning it and rebandaging it."

"Okay." You immediately grab the alcohol and hold it up to her so she knows to brace herself before you pour it over the wound generously then rebandage it and place her arm down softly. Neither of you say anything at first, you just hold eye contact until you clear your throat. "How were you bit the first time?"

She tells the story of her and Riley and you hang onto every word, eventually the conversation moves from her getting bitten to Joel taking her in and their journey across the country. You're so enthralled by her words you don't notice when she stops speaking to just look at your stunned expression. "Are you freaking out?"

"No no I'm fine, it's just... a lot." She chuckles and nods in agreement before grabbing your hand.

"I'm sorry for being a dick, most people would see the bite mark and shoot me without a second thought."

"Yeah well I'm not most people."

"No you're not." A comfortable silence falls over the both of you as your hand remains in hers until she grimaces.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah I'm fine but you've been sitting on that chair for way too long, surely you're in pain."

"I'm good."

"Just come sit on the bed at least."

"No you need to rest."

"I can rest with you sitting on the bed, come on." She clumsily shifts herself over on the bed to make room for you to reluctantly sit next to her, you sit down so softly she feels like she's a bomb that's about to go off and she can't stop the chuckle that leaves her lips watching you tiptoe around her.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, just that Jesse told me when he came over earlier that you went off at him just before we got back. The image makes me laugh." It wasn't entirely a lie but it wasn't entirely the truth.

"Oh he told you that?" You sound ashamed as you avoid eye contact.

"Yeah he said he was actually really scared you were gonna kill him in that moment. I'm impressed." You smile and she smiles at the sight as you turn to look at her once again.

"He was actually scared? Good. I was going to kill him."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to kill you and you weren't there so he was the next best thing."

"See there you go again, you do realise I didn't tell the horde to come attack us right?"

"Well I don't know you could've been fucking around and attracted them to you."

"Says the girl that ran off on me the other day for apples."

"Oh whatever." You go to stand but she places a hand around your wrist willing you to stay put.

"Seriously though, what was going on with you yesterday?"

"You said you would come home at five. And you didn't."

"Careful it's actually starting to sound like you care about me."

"Ellie I do fucking care about you. I was seconds away from fleeing to come find you myself. I thought you were dead and I felt like I was dying. You keep joking about it but you don't realise how lucky you are. I just got you back you can't leave me again." Your voice was laced with desperation as it cracked and trembled.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm fine okay, I'm sorry I scared you."

"Please don't ever do that again."

"I won't." She runs her hand closest to you down your cheek before cupping it gently and pulling you towards her until your lips meet in a slow, passionate kiss that causes butterflies to erupt not just in your stomach but all over your body. She licks at your bottom lip with her tongue which prompts you to open your mouth and let her muscle slip inside. Your body feels like its on fire as you gently hold her face with both hands and deepen the kiss, pushing back against her tongue with yours as they dance with each other. You kiss until you both need to pull away for air and the string of spit that connects your lips sends your heartbeat straight to your core.

"I forgot you said you had eaten pickles for lunch." She scrunches her face in fake disgust as you gasp at her. "I'm kidding, relax... I like pickles." She laughs at the scowl you were wearing as she pulls you back in to kiss again this time running her free hand up your side and squeezing at your waist. Her hand attempts to snake its way under your top but you pull away and tut at her.

"As much as I would love to, you need to rest."

"Oh come on, I'm fine." She goes to sit up but winces and groans as she accepts defeat not daring to look at your smug face. "You're literally giving me blue balls right now."

"You'll live. You also don't have balls."

"Spiritually I do." You scoff at her and roll your eyes before running a hand through her tangled hair until the knots stop you in your tracks.

"We need to brush your hair, it's a mess."

"No."

"Don't argue with me, we're doing it." You say sternly enough that she doesn't think to object again, simply turning away from you so you had access to the majority of her hair. You grab her brush that you had to search for on the floor and return to her on the bed. Starting from the bottom you work all the knots out until its soft and tangle-free. "You know it wouldn't get so knotted if you let me braid it." You almost sing out at her.

"If I say no are you going to do it anyway?"

"Yeah probably."

"Fine go on then, whatever." You squeal and go up on your knees to get a better angle, you had underestimated how difficult it would be to do a braid on someone lying down but as you look down at the french braid that barely touched the back of her neck your heart swelled. She rolled onto her back to look at your excited face and she almost isn't slightly annoyed at you for putting a braid in her hair.

You gazed down at Ellie taking in just how cute she looked with her hair pulled back into the braid, the grumpy look on her face only making her look cuter.

"You're so horrible to me."

"Shut up or I won't feed you tonight." She gasps.

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me." A cocky grin appears on your face as you brush a stray hair that had already fallen out of the braid away from her face. You peck her lips sweetly and smile into the kiss, savouring the bubble you had around yourselves before it bursts and brings you back down to Earth.

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you

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ellieslaces · 1 month

Text

thinking about the first time Hazel sees you in fight club <3 (wc: 1.29k)

(aka: a little drabble to tide everyone over until the next chapter of can’t catch me now.)

there’s something about you, maybe the fact that you’re not someone that would usually talk to Hazel. or even be in her presence. but, one afternoon when you wander into the fight club after school, her heart stops.

her pen that was previously scribbling against the paper of her notebook came to a pause. you just looked so… pretty standing there. all wide eyes and confused looks as you gripped the straps of your book bag, standing in the doorway to the gym.

of course Hazel didn’t say anything, her heart lodged in her throat which rendered her absolutely speechless. so, PJ had taken notice, telling you to quote, unquote ‘quit standing there like a dick wipe and get in here’.

thankfully, you hadn’t taken offense, the most stunning grin spreading across your face as you quickly stripped off your backpack and abandoned it by the bleachers, jogging into the gym to join the group of girls.

everyone was stationed in a circle, watching the previously chosen pair of girls wrestle in the middle of the circle. your eyes were wide, lips formed in a small ‘o’ shape. God, she wanted to look at your lips forever.

maybe it was the sheer wonder in your eyes as you watched the two girls throw punches and kicks and knock each other to the ground that made Hazel wonder if you liked girls. or just the fact that she’d so easily and clearly formed an instant crush on you. how cliché.

Hazel continued to very creepily stare at you until PJ blew her obnoxiously loud whistle, her eyes scanning the circle for the next pair of girls to spar. Josie let out a small groan as she saw PJ put two and two together — something very rare for the girl — to see that Hazel hadn’t taken her eyes off of you since you walked in.

she declared you and Hazel were up to spar. Hazel quickly came back to reality, her eyes wide and darting between PJ and you. you, who just now noticed Hazel. your eyes scanned her up and down, making the girl’s eyes widen further.

with PJ’s annoying instructions to enter the circle, Hazel abandoned her notes and stumbled into the circle where you waited.

“I’ll go easy, if you want. Since it’s your first meeting.” Hazel suggested meekly with a small smile and shrug.

“don’t you dare, Callahan.” you shook your head with a breathtakingly wide grin.

so you knew her name. that sent her for a loop as PJ blew her whistle again, commencing the spar. in fact, Hazel was so distracted by the fact that you knew her name, she failed to dodge the punch you threw her way.

your fist came into contact with her stomach, sending her doubling over, arms clasped over her midsection as a groan tumbled from her lips. you grimaced at your own actions but remembered you were fighting. just about anything goes.

“sorry,” you whispered, eyes holding an apology as you did your worst. in a flash, you’d managed to sweep your foot against her ankle, sending Hazel sprawling to the ground with a thud. quickly, you pounced.

your knees straddled the sides of her hips, hands on her wrists as you pinned her to the gym floor. Hazel stared up at you with wide eyes, her pretty lips parted in shock. all you could do was stare down at her. why hadn’t you noticed just how pretty she was before?

the room was quiet as you held Hazel pinned to the gym floor, eyes locked. the air was thick and awkward as PJ blew her whistle — enough of that, Jesus she was annoying — and announced you had won this round. coming back to reality, you grinned triumphantly, the girls around you clapping and cheering.

“sorry,” you apologized again to Hazel, standing and holding out a hand to assist her in standing up.

Hazel shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she grasped your hand. “no, that was good. better than my first try.”

“nah, don’t flatter me.” you shook your head with a bashful grin, letting your hand fall from hers for fear that if you didn’t let go now, you never would.

Hazel laughed, shaking her head as well. “no really, it was good. took me by surprise.”

“I noticed. do I make you nervous, Callahan? ‘cause you seemed nervous.” you arched a brow, grinning playfully as you teased her. of course you hadn’t missed the surprise she’d displayed when you sparred.

Hazel opened her mouth to answer you with a hopefully equally flirty reply when PJ cut her off. “get out of the circle and keep it in your pants! this isn’t a porn channel, c’mon.”

you rolled your eyes, warmth flooding your cheeks at PJ’s comment. Hazel scoffed under her breath, allowing you to step out of the circle first, giving PJ a slight glare as you walked to stand amongst the group again. PJ gave a small shrug and numbed, “everyone gets some, or no one gets some, Hazel.”

Hazel didn’t deign to respond as she came to stand beside you, your eyes eagerly watching the next pair of girls spar in the circle.

“does this mean you’re joining?” Hazel questioned, hoping — praying — you’d say yes. that she could see you exclusively, within reason, most days of the week. that she could have a chance of getting to know you other than the fact that you shared a history class and were three lockers down from each other.

“if it means I get to see more of you, Callahan, hell yeah.” you grinned, turning to look at her with sparkling eyes.

God, she could stare at your smile forever. and now, she could see it everyday. she smiled widely too, nodding.

“you’re a fucking great sparring partner.” you continued, eyes once again trained on whichever girls were sparring now. “almost hated seeing you get up from under me.”

“yeah, I bet you did,” Hazel nodded, smiling to herself because she fully agreed.

maybe next meeting, the roles would be reversed and you would be under her. a girl could wish.

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸 ; daily click!

#Hazel Callahan #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #Hazel Callahan Drabble #drabble #Hazel #bottoms 2023 #Hazel Callahan bottoms 2023 #wlw post

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hamiltonaf · 6 months

Note

A happy ending but one that he has to work at

Friends with Benefits | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Sexual theme

A/N: Hello my loves ! This was supposed to be posted over the weekend but got delayed because I didn’t know how to end this. This is the original request. I hope you guys enjoy !

Also, requests are open .xx

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

It’s match day, which calls for my routine meet up with Kylian - we meet for most of his matches and sometimes we don’t. I’m always the reason when we don’t meet on match days because I’m trying my best to avoid him, but I’m failing miserably. Don’t get me wrong, he’s beyond amazing but I broke our rule.

We’re friends with benefits - everyone knows how it goes and what’s the end result, but yet people still believe they’ll never catch feelings. It’s always one person, the deal turns sour and that’s the end of the relationship. I guess I’ll be the cause of that.

I never attended his matches because firstly I’m not his girlfriend and secondly, we both have to be as low-key as possible. Our meet ups usually go with me going over to his place, watch the match from there, no matter the result we have some fun when he gets back and either I’ll spend the night or leave as soon as I can.

Besides the fun of friends with benefits, we actually grew to be quite good friends I would say over the time of us meeting. We’d spend our time in bed talking about his matches or other personal things that he’d want to get off his chest and I would be his confidant. Likewise, I felt comfortable to share things in my life with him as well that I’d usually not tell just anyone. It just felt right in the moment and we’d both just forget the whole reason behind why we were in bed together in the first place.

Tonight it’s AC Milan vs PSG. I got dressed and just before leaving, I gave myself one last look in the mirror - tonight I need to confess.

I let myself into his house and got comfortable whilst watching the match, but of course that didn’t last long because I was already up on my feet yelling at the TV screen.

The time between post match and Kylian coming home felt so quick since I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I heard his footsteps and him attempting to unlock the door, I suddenly felt a shiver run through my spine and my hands had started to get clammy. I’m not ready.

“(Y/N)!” He called as he entered. “In the lounge” I answered. “I got here as soon I could. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. I missed you” he smiled as he approached me and pulled me by my waist against his chest. “Congrats on the win today!” I smiled as I placed my hands on his chest. “Thanks, well, you’re just what I needed after that” he grinned as he placed his finger under my chin and pulled me in for a kiss.

I couldn’t help but kiss him back. Our lips moved in sync and it started to get heated by the second as my arms wrapped around his neck whilst his hands trailed down my neck. He broke away from my lips as his kisses trailed down my neck. His hands were about to start unbuttoning my shirt until reality slapped me in the face. “Kylian. Wait” I said as I placed my hands on his. “What ! What’s wrong ? Did I do something ?” He asked concerned. “No no…I just uhm… I wanted us to talk about something first” I hesitantly said.

“Okay let’s talk” he said as we both sat next to each other on the couch. Time to cut to the chase. “This needs to stop.”

“Wait, what ? But why ? What did I do ?” “It’s not you. It’s me” I sighed and looked down at my fingers. “What do you mean ?” He asked “This has been going on for 3 months. It started off great and don’t get me wrong, it still is. However, we had an agreement that if one of us breaks the rule then we have to come clean about it. Unfortunately I can’t continue living a lie much longer. It hurts me every time just being nothing but a fling….I caught feelings, Kylian” my heart was racing uncontrollably.

He remained silent before taking a deep breath. “Look (Y/N) these last 3 months were amazing, but I’m sorry I can’t say the same about catching feelings. I’m not really interested in being in a relationship right now because I’m focused on football. I can’t get distracted right now” he carelessly said. I pressed my lips together in hopes that the emotional side of me will go away. “I know this changes everything, but I mean if you still want to be friends with benefits then I’m fine with that. If you don’t and want to walk out of this now, I won’t stop you” he said. I can’t believe him right now. I just felt like curling myself into a ball and crying my eyes out.

“Wow… I’m just a distraction huh ? I think I’m gonna just go” I cleared my throat as I stood up. “Wait (Y/N) I didn’t mean it like that, I mean I don’t have the time to be in a relationship right now. I just want to have fun” he said as he stood up. “Good to know that I don’t fit in the agenda” I faked a smile before walking over to grab my bag. “(Y/N) don’t be like that. We can move past this. Just stay” he grabbed a hold of my hand to stop me.

“I think this is for the best. I can’t continue living a lie and how long do we expect to keep this going ?” I said lastly before pulling my hand away from him. “(Y/N) let’s talk it out” he said as he followed me to the door. “Kylian. You’re already making this harder for me. Just stop. Let this all be in the past” I took a deep breath and paused. “Good luck on your career. I wish you nothing but the best” I said lastly before closing the door and leaving.

I didn’t even realise I was crying until a tear fell on the screen of my phone. I made it back home, thankfully, immediately dressed down and got myself some ice cream to eat my sorrows away whilst watching a sad movie.

Kylian tried calling numerous times and even sent me countless messages but I chose to ignore it. All good things come to an end, as fun as friends with benefits was…eventually one of us would have to pull out of that phase to get into a real relationship for our future. He may not be concerned about getting serious right now but I sure as hell am. It shatters me that he didn’t feel anything in these 3 months we’ve been together - it was just lust for him I guess. So all those late nights where we were being honest and confided in each other was just a waste…

It’s been a week since I last saw Kylian physically, it was hard not to see him when he’s all over my social media even though I unfollowed so many accounts. Besides that, he still attempted to call and message me numerous times apologising but I just left him on read.

(Y/F/N) had came over after ages, she was a mutual friend of both Kylian and I, all she knew was that we were somewhat seeing each other. We left out the part that we were in a situationship. She actually took notice of my absence in Kylian’s life because according to her, he changed in the past week. I wasn’t buying it, I just assumed she was siding with him. I told her that us seeing each other didn’t work because he didn’t have genuine feelings like I did.

My depression was apparently very much evident that her mood had switched to sympathising with me. She acted quick to change my mood, she thought the best remedy for my depression was to move on. I couldn’t agree more. She surprised me when she said that she could picture me dating a friend of hers named, Carlos, if not Kylian then he was apparently the first runner up. Upon hearing the name, I was already keen on moving on in hopes that maybe I’ll finally get a happy ending.

Later in the afternoon after (Y/F/N) left, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and was greeted by a delivery guy. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) ?” He asked. “Yes ? That’s me” I furrowed my brows. “These are for you” he said as he motioned to the massive bouquet of red roses that was placed beside him. “Oh wow” I said under my breath. “Yeah, you got yourself a lucky man. Have a good day !” He greeted me before he left. I was stood speechless at the door. The bouquet was so heavy, I struggled to even place it onto the counter top. My eyes searched for a card but I found absolutely nothing. Maybe it’s from Carlos after (Y/F/N) put in a word for me.

(Y/F/N) had suggested that Carlos, myself and her have a friendly dinner tonight to get to know each other a bit and so we both don’t feel uncomfortable just yet. I know (Y/F/N) is trying to help, but at the same time I don’t want to go on a date with this guy if he ends up being a bore or even worse, arrogant.

I had a shower, did my hair and makeup before slipping into my dress, and heels. I grabbed my bag and phone before leaving as my Uber arrived.

Luckily they were already there so I didn’t have to awkwardly wait alone. I mentioned (Y/F/N)’s name for the reservation and was escorted inside to where they were seated. “Hello !” I greeted enthusiastically. (Y/F/N) ran over to hug me first before breaking away and introducing Carlos. “Carlos, (Y/N). (Y/N), Carlos” she motioned. “You’re even more beautiful in person” he said as he kissed the back of my hand. “Oh.. well thank you” i felt the heat rush to my cheeks. “You’re welcome” (Y/F/N) said lowly to me.

As we all got seated, (Y/F/N) and Carlos were across me. I was just about to place my bag on the empty seat beside me until I heard that all too familiar voice. “Sorry I’m late.” You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Well finally” Carlos said as he then stood up to shake his hand. “Hey bestie” (Y/F/N) said as she stood up to greet him as well. His eyes were on me the entire time, not even breaking eye contact when he hugged (Y/F/N).

“Chérie” he said lowly enough for only me to hear. “Kylian” I said as I faked a smile and stood up to greet him. As petty as I wanted to be, I didn’t want Carlos to question the tension. Kylian took advantage of the situation as he placed his hand on my lower back and pulled me in for a hug before kissing my cheeks. How lovely, he’s sitting next to me.

Dinner was going well as Carlos opened up about himself and happened to ask me a lot of questions about myself, up until Kylian placed his hand on my thigh. My body froze and I felt goosebumps form on my skin. I placed my hand on top of his to swat his hand away, but of course a few seconds later he does the same thing again with his hand even higher up my thigh. When his fingers were close to my inner thigh, I quickly excused myself, “Would you guys excuse me” I smiled before abruptly standing up and walking towards the bathroom.

Before I could even get to the entrance of the bathroom, I was pulled by my arm and had my back against a corner wall. “What the-“ I said till I saw Kylian’s face. “Can you leave me alone and let me go ?” I said as I pulled my arm away from his. “You’re ignoring me for the past week and I wanted to talk to you” he said. “Well this is obviously not the place or the time, excuse me” I said as I tried to walk away. He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back against the wall. I hate to admit that i have butterflies and it felt like my skin was burning when he touched me.

“What is it ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You look so beautiful, it’s distracting” he smirked. “Thank you ?” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Just hear me out.. I know I was wrong and I’m so sorry for not even wanting to give us a try. Since you’ve been away, I felt so empty and it was so obvious that you were missing from my life, I didn’t realise how you completed me. I missed talking to you about literally anything, I missed having you by my side and waking up to your beautiful face. I need you (Y/N) because I love you” he said. I stood speechless. Someone pinch me. “Ow !” I rubbed my arm. “You said to pinch you” he shrugged. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“So chérie, will you forgive me and give us a chance ?” He asked hopeful. “I need some time Kylian. This all happened so quickly. I have so many unanswered questions that-“ “Okay then ask me a question !” He said. “We’re wasting too much of time, they’re gonna get suspicious” I said as I started walking. “By the way did you like the roses ?” He asked. I stopped in my tracks, “That was you ?” I asked in shock. “Why are you surprised ?” He asked. “Well firstly you didn’t send a note and secondly, I assumed it was Carlos” I shrugged. He seemed to get annoyed by the mention of Carlos’ name as he walked ahead of me without another word. “Ky !” I called for him.

Luckily Carlos and (Y/F/N) didn’t question how long we were gone, I guess they were so caught up in their own conversation because they didn’t even notice Kylian and I when we were back. Kylian was distant for the rest of the evening and luckily dinner was cut short since Carlos had to go. Turns out (Y/F/N) was leaving with Carlos so that just leaves Kylian and I alone. “Are you coming over to my place ?” He asked. “For what ?” I raised a brow. “To talk things out and besides that..I have a surprise for you” he grinned. “You know I hate surprises” I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware that’s the only thing that could convince you to come with me” he said proud. “I really hate you” I shook my head as I followed him to the car.

Once we got to his place, it felt weird knowing that I was once coming here so often to not coming at all. “Okay close your eyes” he said when we were at the door. “But why ?” I asked. “You’re so stubborn, you’re ruining my surprise” he shook his head as he placed his hand over my eyes. He used his other hand to guide me into the house, I could envision where everything was with my eyes close. “Kylian, you’re scaring me” I said as I took small steps. “Almost there” he said lowly. “Okay..open now” he said. I blinked my eyes open to see the house decorated in candles and a trail of roses.

“Oh my gosh” I said lowly. “Do you like it ?” He asked. “Ky, I didn’t know you had this in you” I said in awe. “I’m offended that you don’t think I’m romantic” he shook his head. “I mean deep down I knew you were but I didn’t think that I’d get to see that side of you” I pouted. “Well, you surely got the romantic side of me. I’ve never done this for anyone and I wanted you to feel special, especially to make up for the past week. These are just small things, you deserve better chérie” he sighed. “I think I got exactly what I need right here” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him against his chest.

“I really love you. I never thought I could miss someone so much until you were gone. I deserved being left on read” he laughed. “You sure did.. I think I should’ve sent the roses back as well” I teased. “Okay now that would be pushing it, I would’ve been heart broken for the rest of my life” he pouted. “You would feel my pain” I smiled. “I already felt your pain when you already moved onto Carlos” he rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even give me a chance to move on. You crashed our friends date, you played with my mind by placing your hand on my thigh and calling me pet names when you normally call me-“ He cut me off by placing his lips on mine. “You’re talking too much” he said in between kisses as it got heated.

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