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#instead of it being 'hey this shit is just not working out at all let's end it'
valeskafics · 2 days
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"Crazy In Love" - Dark Ex!Rafe Cameron x Reader
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a/n: a request from @eydi-andrius for crazy ex rafe heheheheh 🩷
Summary: Rafe doesn't seem to understand the concept of a breakup.
Word Count: 3,525
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: dubcon, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, intimidation, threats of violence (not against reader), jealousy, toxic relationship dynamic, references to mdma usage, stalking, choking, hair pulling, biting, fingering, slight degradation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, topper is a cunt, jj is a little shit
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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When Rafe wakes up, he expects to find you cuddled up against him. That things are going to be business as usual. After all, when you said you wanted to break up, you still kissed him back when he pulled you in. So he’s going to assume that the stupid little idea you had of trying to get some space from him is long forgotten. That is, until he sees you pulling on your clothes, sitting at the foot of the bed, getting ready to leave without saying goodbye. You haven’t even put your shoes on, no doubt to avoid him hearing them against the hardwood floor. Rafe jolts awake, staring at you.
“Where are you going, baby? Don’t you want breakfast?”
“Oh, hey…” You trail off, turning to face him, “Uh, I have to get to work, actually.”
“But you’re off today.”
You shake your head, dropping your sneakers to the ground and slipping into them, giving up on any chance of getting out of Tanneyhill unseen, “Boss switched my schedule. I’m off Thursdays instead of Fridays.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Rafe huffs, crossing his arms, “How am I supposed to know when to pick you up?”
“Because we’re broken up, Rafe.”
Rafe shakes his head, trying to hide how much that comment angers him, “No. We’re taking a break, if anything. We’re not broken up.” You don’t bother arguing with him, just continuing to walk to the front door, “Can I at least drive you to work?”
“No, it’s okay. I have my bike out front.”
He’s desperate now, and it seeps into his voice as he pleads, “Can I at least give you a hug goodbye?”
Rafe has always known how to get you to let down your walls for him. When he speaks to you, his voice cracking ever so slightly, letting you know he’s on the brink of tears. You turn to face him, your resolve faltering as you nod slowly. He pulls you into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his hands rubbing your lower back as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.
“Can you do me a favor? Can we meet up later?” Rafe feels you pull away, your eyes meeting his as you silently question what he wants, “I think we should talk about us… Please?”
You shake your head, removing yourself from his embrace, “I’m sorry, Rafe. It’s Friday, so I’ll be really busy at work and I’m just gonna wanna go home after. I’ll see you around, okay?”
He watches as you bike down the road, farther and farther away from him, disappearing into the distance. Rafe tries to call after you, pain in his voice as he questions whether you care about him anymore. Whether you still love him. But you don’t hear him. Or maybe you just pretend not to as you bike further and further away from him.
He shouldn’t be this fucking hung up over you. Granted, you’re gorgeous and probably the first girl he’s ever really loved. But you’re a Pogue. You work at the Island Club. Hell, the main point of contention between the two of you is your friendship with the other Pogues. It’s no secret that Pope, John B, and JJ have all had crushes on you at one point or another. He’s pretty sure those feelings linger even today with how much they resent him for being your boyfriend. You always tried to assure him that it wasn’t the case, but Rafe knew. He could see the way John B’s hand would linger on your lower back when he helped you into that fucking van of his, the way Pope smiled at you, the way JJ shamelessly ogled you. It was bad enough to try and get Topper and Kelce to stop checking you out, but these three?
He’s the only guy who should be giving you any attention at all. You don’t need anyone but him.
He just needs to remind you of that little detail.
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You’re clearly trying to avoid him. Rafe knows that. But he’s not going to let that happen. He parks outside your house, a little ways down the road so he can watch you get on that bike and ride to work at the Island Club every day. He sits down at the restaurant there for the entirety of your shift, just watching you. Topper and Kelce ask if he’s ever going to go play a round with them, but he ignores them, his eyes locked on your figure as you wait on the guests. You always manage to switch tables with one of the other girls, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see you.
Rafe isn’t over you. It’s been weeks since the breakup, but he knows he’s never getting over you. He watches as you smile brightly at the customers you’re waiting on before walking over to JJ, handing him the order slip to give to the kitchen. He hates it. He hates the way you giggle at whatever stupid joke JJ has made, he hates the way he leans in to whisper something in your ear, the way you don’t immediately push him away.
“Whoa… Is your girl with that dirty Pogue now?”
Topper’s words snap Rafe out of his trance, his head whipping toward him, voice coming out in a low snarl as he hisses, “What?”
Topper raises his hands defensively, exchanging a weary look with Kelce, “Oh, um, nothing, man. Sorry. Was just asking.”
Rafe grits his teeth, shaking his head, immediately staring at you again, hating that you’re so close yet so fucking far out of reach as he mumbles, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even care.”
“Yeah, Rafe can do way better than her anyway,” Kelce adds, “She’s hot but she’s a dirty Pogue too.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe glares at him.
“What? She is a Pogue-”
“I fucking said shut up, Kelce!” Rafe stands up, glaring down at his friend. Kelce shrinks slightly in his seat, not unused to Rafe’s mood swings, but surprised that he’s so angry despite claiming not to care about you anymore. Heads turn in the Island Club restaurant toward their table. Every head except yours. You stumble over something slightly while chatting with JJ, nearly falling, but he catches you, brushing a piece of hair off your face, the two of you laughing. And Rafe’s anger reaches a boiling point. He sits down with a low growl, yelling out, “God dammit!”
You walk over to them a few minutes later, your coworker having refused to take their table - no doubt after seeing Rafe’s temper tantrum. You greet the three with that ‘customer service’ smile, as you’ve referred to it so many times in conversation with Rafe.
“Boys. What can I get started for you?”
For a long moment, Rafe just stares at you, his lips slightly parted. You clear your throat awkwardly and Rafe finally catches himself, doing his best to ignore the way Topper and Kelce are practically undressing you with their eyes.
“Steak and potatoes,” he says flatly, looking back at the menu.
“I thought you were trying to cut back on your red meat intake-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head as if to remind yourself that he isn’t your boyfriend anymore, “You know what? Not my business. How do you want that cooked?”
“Medium,” Topper replies, leaning over Rafe and giving you a little smirk.
Rafe gives him an annoyed glare, his fists clenching, though he takes comfort in the way you snap at Topper, “I asked Rafe. Not you.” You turn to Rafe, “Medium well?”
He nods at you. You still know him so well. You always have. It’s been weeks since he’s had you in his arms, and it’s driving him crazy. He watches as you take Kelce’s order, just gazing at you intensely, and the way you scowl as you write down Topper’s order, muttering something under your breath before turning to leave.
Topper speaks up the moment you’re gone, “Why’d you even date a girl like her, man?”
“What do you mean a ‘girl like her’?” Rafe scowls.
“A Pogue.”
Rafe’s jaw clenches, “Keep your fucking mouth shut.”
You return a few moments later with their drinks, sensing the tense atmosphere. Rafe continues glaring at Topper, only turning to you when you place his lemonade in front of him. He hadn’t even ordered one. You just knew him well enough to know he would’ve wanted one. Then, Topper opens his big fucking mouth again.
“A Pogue’s the last person I would’ve expected you to date.”
Before Rafe can say anything, you give Topper a sarcastic little smile as you slam his drink down in front of him, one that Rafe knows all too well, “Maybe Rafe just has more substance than you.”
Topper looks at you, confused, “Substance?”
“Yeah. Substance. Like depth? Not to be confused with substance as in substance abuse. Like all the Molly you take that’s fried your fucking brain.”
It’s Topper’s turn to stand up, glaring at you, cursing you out, demanding you apologize, but Rafe simply shoves him back into his seat, watching the way you saunter off without a care in the world. You’ve always been like this. Confident, comfortable in who you are. Always willing to put people in their place. Hell, not even Rafe was ever spared from that.
He watches from a distance as you continue talking to JJ. He hates it. He’s so fucking jealous and he knows that you’re not even his girlfriend anymore, but fuck, he hates it. That smile? That should be for him. And when JJ wraps his arm around you, muttering something in your ear? He loses his cool. Rafe storms over to you, his voice a low, venomous hiss.
“Take your hands off her.”
Your eyes go wide at his words, “Rafe, JJ is my best friend-”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe says, ignoring your words, his jealousy growing out of control, “You don’t put your goddamn arm around a girl like that when her boyfriend is around. It’s disrespectful.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to respect you, Kook-”
You cut JJ off, giving Rafe a sharp look, “You’re not my boyfriend anymore. Rafe, stop.”
He looks straight at JJ, wanting nothing more than to beat his ass into the ground, to wipe that smug little smile off his face, “I’m giving you five seconds to take your fucking hands off of her.”
“Okay, fine. If she tells me to.”
JJ’s response makes Rafe’s blood boil as he turns to you, gnashing his teeth, “Tell him. Now.”
You duck out from under JJ’s arm, speaking quietly to Rafe, “Let’s just go talk, okay?”
He follows you to the breakroom, running a hand through his hair. He watches the way you pace back and forth, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance, your eyebrows scrunched together in that way they always get when you’re annoyed. Normally he’d just kiss your forehead and everything would be fine. You’d smile up at him and kiss him and forget why you were pissed in the first place. But now, you just sigh.
“Rafe, we’re broken up. We’re over. You can’t just act like this.”
He takes a step toward you, “Maybe. But I still have feelings for you. And seeing another guy fuckin’ touch you like that? I’m not okay with it.”
“It’s not just some guy! It’s JJ, my best friend! This is why we broke up, Rafe, because you can’t stop acting like a jealous asshole!”
Rafe scoffs incredulously, shaking his head, “So I’m the bad guy for not wanting other guys to touch you? That’s fucking bullshit, Princess, you know that-”
“Don’t call me that! You and I need to move on, okay?”
“Move on?” He shakes his head, running a hand over his face, “There is no fucking moving on for me! Do you understand that? I fucking love you! That’s not something that happens for me! I fucking love you. And I can’t move on. No matter how much you want me to. No matter how much you wanna pretend we didn’t happen, I can’t fucking move on!”
JJ pokes his head into the breakroom, his brow furrowed at seeing how close you and Rafe are, “Everything okay?”
You nod quickly, “Yeah, Jayj, we’re fine.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Rafe snaps without even looking at him, his gaze still trained on you.
“Come over here and make me, big fella-”
You shove JJ out the door, letting out another sigh before turning to Rafe, “Please just go. I’ll get fired. I need this job.”
Rafe nods before walking out the door, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go.”
He gives you one last lingering glance before leaving the room.
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It continues. Not for a second does Rafe let up. He’s constantly there, trying to get you to take him back. Your hangouts with your friends, dinner with your family, work. He’s always there. And you continue trying to ignore him. He’s fucking relentless. Rafe feels like he can’t even breathe without thinking about you, needing you back.
Today is no exception. He stands on the steps of your house, waiting for you to get home, elbows resting on his knees, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He knows where you’ve been. Out on your first date since the breakup. A date with none other than JJ. He always knew the little fucker had a thing for you. He hears the two of you pull up, hears you telling JJ to just drop you off here. He watches as JJ helps you off his bike and helps you out of your helmet. He watches as JJ kisses you. Rafe inhales sharply, trying to calm himself, waiting for him to ride off before making his presence known, standing up as you approach your door.
You look so fucking pretty as you walk toward your door, freezing in surprise when you see him. Wearing that cute little sundress that hits your lower thigh, your beat up Converse. You’re so fucking beautiful. You do your best to ignore him, reaching for your keys, but Rafe speaks, turning you around to face him.
“You kissed him.”
“I… Were you fucking spying on me?!”
“Yes!” He answers without hesitation, “Yes, I was fucking spying on you! Yes, I’m fucking jealous! I’m completely batshit crazy about you! I can’t even sleep at night because I’m going insane thinking about you!”
“Rafe, we broke up, we’re over! Move on!”
Rafe shakes his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips, pinning you against the door, “I  can’t. You’re the perfect girl for me. The only one who’s ever understood me. When I’m with you… You make me better. Less angry. I can’t do this without you.” His breathing is ragged and his gaze desperate as he stares at you, all rational thought leaving his body, “But I need you to understand something. If I see you with JJ again? I’ll fucking destroy him.”
Your jaw drops, “What the fuck does that mean?!”
“I’ll hurt him. I’ll fuck him up, I’ll beat the fucking shit out of him.”
“No, Rafe, you can’t, let’s be rational-”
“Rational?” His voice cracks slightly as he laughs, pushing his hair back, “You want me to be fucking rational? I have been doing everything in my fucking power to get you back and you keep pushing me away. Going out with JJ? I’m so fucking past rational, Princess.”
You take a deep breath, letting out a tremulous exhale as you question, “What do you want me to do? What will it take for you not to hurt him?”
“What do I want you to do? I want you back where you belong. With me.”
“But-”
“No! I don’t want you to see him or hear from him ever again. I want you with me. Where you fucking belong.”
“And if I don’t come back to you?” You ask quietly, “What happens then?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
“No, Rafe. I want to know. What happens if I refuse? You kill JJ, is that it?”
“Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, Princess,” he hisses, leaning down, his forehead resting against yours, “But yes. I’ll fucking kill him. And you know I’m capable of it.”
“You’re fucking insane-”
“No, no, no, this isn’t me being insane,” he laughs bitterly, his hand wrapping around your throat, holding you in place, “It’s me being what you’ve made me. You drive me fucking crazy. It’s your fucking fault. Your fault that I can’t get over you no matter how hard I try. Your fault I care about you so much I’ll do anything to keep you with me! And if that sounds insane, I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather be insane than lose you to someone else.”
You try to shove him away, fumbling with your keys, trying to get inside, but he manages to make it in with you, pinning you back up against the door. And when he kisses you, you hate yourself for it, but you melt into his arms. Rafe’s lips move against yours desperately, with a passion that you have never experienced with anyone else. His hand knots in your hair, tugging harshly. Your head falls back and he immediately begins biting at your neck, being sure to leave his mark. Come morning, everyone will see that you belong to him. That you always have.
“I hate you.”
Rafe’s hands move down your side, sliding under the hem of your dress to cup your mound over your panties, a dirty smile on his face as he murmurs, “Your pussy doesn’t. You could never hate me. You know I’m the only one who can love you like this. I’d kill for you. And there’s a sick little part of you that gets off on it. Gets off on knowing that I’m so crazy about you that I’d do anything to keep you.”
He’s right. You hate him so fucking much for it, but he’s right. He pushes two thick fingers inside you, making your lips part slightly, the hand wrapped around your throat squeezing harder as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your eyes roll back as he finds that sweet spot with ease, knowing your body better than even you do. He rubs his thumb against your clit, fingers moving in and out of you, ignoring your whimpering and whining, your choked gasps. Rafe stares down at you, his cock straining against his pants as he watches you come undone on his fingers. You look so pretty like this, staring up at him all fucked out. Needy and ready for him.
Rafe manhandles you onto your sofa, pushing your dress up just enough to reveal your ass, slapping it harshly once, twice, three times, admiring the way your flesh jiggles against the impact. He hooks his arm around your neck, his front to your back, as he pushes your underwear aside just enough to reveal your wet cunt. He pushes inside you with one fluid thrust, his fat cock filling you so fucking perfectly, the way it always does. You grasp at one of the cushions, moaning his name as he pounds into you, his arm restricting your airflow, his free hand slapping at your clit, making your entire body tremble against his.
“Yeah, you wanted this, Princess,” he snarls against your ear as he ruts against you, your vision blurring from the lack of oxygen combined with the pleasure he’s giving you, “Fuck, still so tight for me after I’ve fucked you so many times. Taking me like such a good little girl. My good little girl. All. Fucking. Mine,” he hisses, punctuating each word with a thrust, fucking you harder, deeper than ever before. You let out a whimper of his name, moving your fingers to circle your clit, only for him to slap your hand away, “Don’t be fucking greedy. You get what I give you, Princess.”
So you lay there and you take what he has to give you, the fat head of his cock rubbing against that spongy spot deep inside of you with every thrust. You moan his name, feeling his movements begin to slow, knowing both of you are close.
“Say it,” Rafe growls, “Say you’re mine. Say only I get to touch you, fuck you, love you like this.”
“I’m yours, Rafe,” you manage to eke out, eyes rolling back, “Only yours… Please… Let me come, Rafe, please…”
“Come for me, Princess,” he murmurs, rubbing at your clit furiously feeling the way you tighten around him, your walls hugging him tight as you reach your peak, his own following soon after, thick ropes of cum painting you white as he reaches his release, your cunt milking him for all he has.
He turns you onto your back so that you’re forced to face him, brushing his nose against yours as he whispers, “Don’t you ever try to fucking leave me again, Princess. You’re mine.”
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forcemeanakin · 1 day
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Right where you left me.
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•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.
Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.
Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.
Word count: 1.7k.
A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.
☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾
You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength. 
Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now. 
On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth. 
Bingo. 
Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer. 
“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.
“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly. 
Oh. 
“Training ran long?” You hoped.
“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance. 
At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.
Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed. 
So far, you had failed in your mission. 
“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile. 
“And how’s life outside of work, baby?” 
And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.
“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses. 
“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.
“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed. 
Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you. 
You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date. 
The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like. 
And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you. 
Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it. 
But you wanted to try. For you.
For him.
As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session. 
Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.
So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.
“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”
His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.
“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene. 
“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart. 
You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-
“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.” 
Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low. 
“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”
The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior. 
Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .
And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough. 
“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”
You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?
“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.
But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message. 
“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers. 
That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in. 
“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”
I guess.
“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.” 
Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat. 
He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”
You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up. 
“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape. 
“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes. 
He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.
It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.
“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”
The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done. 
The day of his usual drunken nights. 
Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke. 
Exactly at the time he would always contact you. 
And you?
You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.
Every day since that day. 
Right where he left you. 
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monzabee · 14 days
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pon de replay - cl16 (+18)
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.
Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 
Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.
So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.
It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.
“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.
“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.
“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”
If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”
Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.
He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”
That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.
“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.
Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.
“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.
So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”
His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”
If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.
And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”
This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.
“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”
“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.
And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”
Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”
“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”
“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”
And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.
So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”
You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.
“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.
He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”
“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”
“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.
The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.
Or so you’ve thought.
Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”
“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”
You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”
That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.
“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   
“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.
“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.
So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”
“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”
“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”
“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”
“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”
“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.
That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.
“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.
“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”
“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”
And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.
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sashaforthewin · 26 days
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on Ao3
Steve had been enjoying a nice relaxing lounge by the pool despite it being night. He had his hearing aid off and his fruity drink and a romance novel Robin had let him borrow. He was determined to have a good time despite the circumstances. 
Someone tapped his foot, scaring the crap out of Steve and making him drop his book and nearly knock over his drink. 
It was a fellow cruise passenger and he was saying something. Steve turned his hearing aid back on.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked why you were out here instead of at the concert,” repeated the man with a smile.
“Oh, um. I’m not actually a fan of metal music. It gives me headaches if I listen to more than one or two songs in a row,” Steve admitted sheepishly.
This stranger was still clearly a metal head, but he looked significantly less scary than most of the ones he had seen so far that day. Everyone Steve met had been nice, but Steve hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone he wasn’t a fan until now. Maybe because it was just the two of them out here and he was smiling so cutely. 
“Not a metal fan? Well damn, not to critique your life choices, but I think maybe going on a metal cruise wasn’t an ideal choice for you? I’m Eddie, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”
There were plenty of deck lounges around, all empty, but Eddie sat down on Steve’s right next to his legs. 
“Steve. So Steve, why are you on a metal cruise when you don’t like metal? These tickets were not exactly cheap and there’s no way you missed the theme, it was pretty clearly advertised,” Eddie asked teasingly.
Steve looked Eddie over, noting that he was actually pretty cute. Pretty eyes, nice full lips, dimples, and he was that type of lanky Steve was drawn to. He had good skin and his hair had some volume and texture to it, Steve could work with that. Bit of a fixer-upper, but a better starting point than most of the men that had flirted with him since his last failed relationship. He also had the vibe, so Steve decided this guy would be fine to open up to. 
“Well, Eddie, I bought this ticket for my dear friend Dustin for his birthday, but then the little shit went and outed me to my parents. Accidentally, of course, and he feels like shit about it. But still, that got me kicked out of my home so maybe I’m being petty but I decided he shouldn’t get to go on this cruise after all. I forgive him, it really was an accident, but still, gotta teach him a lesson.” Steve shrugged. “And I would’ve gotten the ticket refunded but the money would’ve gone back to my parents and they clearly don’t deserve to get anything back from me. So, instead of trying to figure out how to sell a ticket to a very niche interest cruise, I figured I deserved to just come and treat myself for four days before I have to go back to living in my ex-girlfriend’s basement. It’s actually pretty nice to have the ship to myself while all you guys are in there shaking your heads to loud music.” Steve gestured to the pool and the drink.
“Ex- girl friend’s basement?” Eddie asked.
“Shut up, I’m bi.” Steve smacked Eddie on the arm with his book. 
Eddie grabbed the book and looked at it as he replied, “Hey, just checking to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree.”
“Oh? Is that what you’re doing, barking up my tree?” Steve said, playfully.
“If you’ll let me,” Eddie flirted back.
“So how come you’re not in the show right now?” Steve asked, gently stealing his book back from Eddie’s grasp.
“Oh, I’m touring with those guys right now, I have heard them play the same set like fifteen times already. I’d much rather be out here getting to chat with you. You know you’re beautiful, right? How come you don’t live with your boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked, quite obvious in his fishing for information.
“I’m single and yes, I do know I’m beautiful, but I still like hearing it. Are you like a roadie or something?”
“Actually,” Eddie said, “I’m the lead guitarist in the headlining band. We play tomorrow night. Can I buy you another drink? Maybe dinner?”
“The, uh, the bill goes to our cabins,” Steve answered, too shocked that an apparently famous musician was asking him out to respond appropriately.
“Baby, I’ll put your entire tab on my cabin if you’ll let me. You are the most beautiful, and dare I say cleanest man on this entire boat. Metal heads are great, but they aren’t really my type.”
Steve takes a sip of his cold drink just to make sure he’s not fallen asleep and dreaming. The ocean is calm and the moon is full and he is most definitely awake.
“And what is your type?” Steve asked. 
“Handsome men with soft hands who will let me pamper them,” Eddie said, picking up Steve’s hand and feeling his lack of calluses. He placed a kiss onto each finger tip. “These hands aren’t meant for labor, let me spoil you rotten.”
Well, Steve reasoned, even if this ended up being just a weekend fling, it was going to be worth the price of admission.
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suntoru · 2 months
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─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.
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— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?
— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!
— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever
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"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.
...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.
nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.
nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.
his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.
...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.
however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.
would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.
two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.
'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'
'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.
the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.
it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.
in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.
secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.
and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.
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it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.
despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.
and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.
he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.
because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.
so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.
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"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.
"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.
"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.
satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.
a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.
he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.
they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.
the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.
the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.
that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.
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cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'
you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.
yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.
you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.
yes, that must be it.
...just a simple oversight.
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"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.
"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.
"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.
"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.
"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.
"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.
"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.
"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."
you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.
you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.
every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.
this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.
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today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.
his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.
how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.
and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.
he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.
he doesn't know what love is.
he's only sixteen.
perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.
you were right, it seems.
gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.
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© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.
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2hightocare · 1 month
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INFATUATED!
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“In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” — mini series ❦︎
Synopsis: The feeling of finding a person who makes your tummy do cartwheels everyday, no matter what the situation is.
Pairings: nonidol!jungkook x fem!reader
Warnings: super cute duper fluff, jk being the epitome of every girls dream man. Argument, oc crying, Jungkook wasting money on oc, banter, cussing, flirting. Js super cute cliché shit…
a/n: they’re my babies… they’re so ‘tear in my heart’ coded but after this I might be inactive. I have a paper due in three weeks 10 pages long so…. Plus in my free time I’m working on a series that I will drop the teaser and aesthetic maybe later or tmr🤍🤍🤍 enjoy!! Kithes.
Falling in love with Jungkook was so easy that it scared you. He did everything right, and whenever there was something wrong, he would do anything in his power to make it right. You thought it was too good to be true, and he would just disappear into angel dust if you blinked too fast.
“How do you feel?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead in the process. “Warm.” You talk about the fever you have. The covers that were wrapped tightly around you are shredded from you. “Hey!” You pout, shaking from how cold you feel even though the air is off and it’s not cold. “You’re not going to get better, baby.” He pouts back at you, holding the covers tightly on his chest as you try to fight back for it.
“I'm freezing,” you whine, your eyelids fluttering shut as his palm touches your face.
“You’re burning, baby,” he lets you know while sighing.
You had gotten sick yesterday, which had started with a sore throat. You had thought when you would have woken up today it would’ve been gone; spoiler: it got worse.
Jungkook makes his way to his kitchen, opening up the gray cabinet in front of him. He pulls out the tray filled with medicine his mom gave him whenever he moved out around four years ago. He pops open the pill container, taking two small white round pills out before grabbing a water bottle and making his way to you, who’s curled up on his couch.
Jungkook feels like shit whenever he can’t do anything to make you feel better. It didn’t matter what it was; he would do anything in his power to make you feel better. Seeing you sick, your face red from how hot you are, your eyes closed, and curled up from how cold you felt had him thinking that if he could take away your sickness and be sick instead, Jungkook would choose that option in an instant.
He hands you the pills and the water bottle and watches you take them one by one. He remembers when you gawked at him when he took 4 pills at once and learned that you have a fear of the pill going down the wrong tube.
He also remembers that you prefer pills and injections instead of just medicine syrup. Which baffled him, to say the least; how could someone prefer an injection instead of just strawberry-flavored syrup? He laughed at you, which you just shrugged because it was the truth; you preferred to get poked by a needle than just drinking something.
“That’s actually crazy.” Jungkook throws his head backwards as a laugh rips out of his chest. “It’s nasty. I don’t care what flavor it is. I would literally throw it up.” You scrunch your nose, remembering the taste of the medicines your parents literally shoved down your throat so you could get better.
“Don’t get me started on how anything medicine strawberry flavored gives me PTSD till this day.” You shiver from the thought, which has your boyfriend laughing at you.
“I can’t breathe,” you say, your voice scratchy from your sore throat as you breathe from your mouth. “I should’ve enjoyed breathing when I could,” you joke, watching your boyfriend's eyes twinkle. They had a small glimmer to them, making you wonder how that could possibly happen and why you haven't seen it before with anyone else.
Jungkook had no clue how he ended up here… with a girl he met in a chemistry class that accidentally dropped sulfuric acid all over the floor alongside the beaker smashing into tiny pieces. He watched how your eyes widened as a small piece of your hair dropped beautifully in front of your face out of the low ponytail. You had tied it with a blue latex glove as a hair tie since you didn’t have one after no one in class had one to let you borrow.
That was two years ago; now here he was taking care of you as you struggled to breathe from your congested nose.
“Can I get my blanket back?” You pout at him, which he only shook his head with a chuckle.
….
“Get whatever you want,” Jungkook gave your ass a little tap as you entered the makeup store, your eyes widening from excitement. “Don’t say stuff like that,” you give him a look, which has him tilting your face up with his hand.
“Why, baby?” He chuckles, pecking your pouted lips.
“Because it makes me feel things, duh,” you whisper into his lips. He smiles into your mouth. His lip piercing sends cold shocks through your body that has you playfully shoving him away, remembering where you guys are.
“Get whatever you want, and then we can go to the bookstore,” Jungkook picks up the black and white striped little Sephora bag before pointing in front of you to walk.
You giggled as you started looking for the things that have been sitting in your phone cart for a while now. Jungkook follows behind you, stopping whenever you stop to look at the shelves for something before you drop the product in the basket in your boyfriend's hand.
“That’s really cute,” Jungkook mentions the lipstick tester you have in your hand. “You should get it,” he says, tilting his head at you, watching you open the lid being met with a reddish-dark color.
“Don’t you think it’s too dark?” You look up at your smiling boyfriend.
“What?” You giggle as you stare back at him. “You look beautiful,” he says casually, reaching for your beanie and pulling it down a bit more, fixing it. “You literally want me to die right now,” you joke. “Baby!” Jungkook laughs at the tone of voice you used.
“You can’t keep saying things like that without expecting me to literally melt away,” you lean your body onto him while he wraps his strong hands around your much smaller frame as you look up to him.
“I just say whatever is in my mind at the moment, princess,” he explains, giving your waist a small squeeze, making you squirm as the feeling made you ticklish. “Ah!” You laugh as his fingers dig into your rib cage, tickling you.
You push him away as he tries to continue to tickle your tummy. “Stop!” You laugh, trying to get away as far as you can from him.
Jungkook stops when he sees two girls around your guy's age pass beside you both with judging eyes. “Someone’s mad...” Jungkook whispers into your head as you just shake your head with a laugh.
“Let’s leave, I got everything,” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with him, making your way to the line.
When you guys finally get to the line, you are met with a pretty blonde girl, her dimples carved into her skin when she smiles up at you both. “Hi, is that all?” The girl said, you take notice of her name tag.
“Yes, that's all, thank you,” you smile back. “Find everything you wanted?” Genesis asks, as she starts scanning the products. “Yeah, thanks,” you say, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you see the price rise with each scan.
“Card or cash?” Genesis says, as she points to the credit card reader.
“Card,” Jungkook says before you could reply. He pulls out his black card from the back of the phone case, before scanning it through the white card reader without looking at the price. The machine makes a small sound, “here you go, have a wonderful day!” The girl says ripping the receipt before putting it into the white and black bag, handing it to you.
“Thank you, baby,” you say as you walk out the door of the store, Jungkook smiles at you before shrugging. “The least I could do, princess,” he gives your hand three small squeezes, which feels like he’s squeezing your heart as well. “It was expensive as fuck,” you pout at him. “How much?” He asks, “a thousand.” You cringe, scrunching your nose up at realizing the astonishing price. “That’s it?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow before reaching to the passenger side of his car.
“What! You’re crazy,” you say, giving him a slight swat. You watch as the side of his lips quirk up, making you mirror his actions.
“I love you,” you pout, as he leans into his car. “And I love you so much more,” he says, pulling you into him from your waist.
You tipped toe to reach for his lips, his lips mold with yours perfectly as you both were pieces of a puzzle. “How do you want the kiss?” He asks, giving your waist a squeeze. “What is this, a drive-thru? I get to ask what type of kiss I want,” you giggle, letting your forehead drop onto his chest which rumbles with a laugh.
“You get to ask whatever you want from me,” Jungkook rubs your back softly on top of your thick hoodie. “Oh shit,” your eyes widened as you saw the small print of your makeup on his black shirt when you raised your head upwards. “What?” He looks down to his shirt where you’re rubbing your fingers on the dirty print.
“I just ruined your shirt, baby, ahh!” You freak, which has Jungkook laughing while trying to reassure you that it’s fine and he’ll just wash it when he gets home.
As much as you guys had moments like this, you guys had your disagreements. They weren’t as bad where they ended in screaming matches or end up not talking for days, you guys usually make up the same day before going to bed. Jungkook loathed going to bed whenever you two fought; he felt compelled to make things right before even considering sleep.
“Why are you making me feel bad?” You say, your voice cracking, which echoes the fractures in Jungkook's heart. “I’m not, baby. It’s just... I can’t do anything about it,” Jungkook tries to reason with you.
“She was literally all over you, and you didn’t stop it,” you feel your eyes start to water before staring down at your converse.
“She’s my mom's best friend's daughter; I can’t just tell her to fuck off, y/n. I backed off. I can’t control what she does,” Jungkook raises his voice, a tear falling down your cheek as he addresses you by your first name, a departure from his usual endearments, which feels like a knife to your chest.
“Okay, then,” you nod, tears starting to cascade down, smudging your makeup in the process.
Jungkook's throat tightens; he feels like he can't breathe, feeling like shit. He watches you wipe your tears, small sniffles escaping your mouth. “I’m going to go,” you sniffle, turning your back to him and reaching for your bag.
“No, don't leave, let’s talk this out,” Jungkook implores, turning you around to face him. He reaches for your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continue to fall down your puffy cheeks. “You’re hurting me,” you say, with a sniffle.
“I know. I’m fucking sorry, baby,” he feels his heart racing, wanting to die for making you feel bad for caring about him.
“Why didn’t you push her away or say something? You made me look fucking stupid, Jungkook,” you cry, recalling the pang of feeling as Kailey flirted with him in front of his family, and he did nothing to stop it, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he kisses away your tears, trying to soothe the ache in your heart. “I promise I’ll shove her off whenever I see her, and if I have the chance to avoid her, I will,” he whispers into your cheek with each kiss he leaves on your face.
“Promise?” You whisper, finally meeting his worried eyes.
“Promise, baby,” he whispers back, holding eye contact with your red, puffy eyes.
“I hate making you cry; please forgive me,” Jungkook pulls you into him, hugging you tightly as if afraid you'll slip away. “I forgive you, just don’t do it ever again,” you sniffle into his chest, feeling the throb in your heart melt away.
“I love you,” he says, swaying you both in the middle of his living room.
“I love you,” you sniffle.
….
"But the Maze Runner is so good," you literally whine at your boyfriend, who is in the middle of changing his shirt.
"Yeah, but not as good as Spiderman," he says, poking his head out the shirt hole with a grin.
"Okay, true, but the Maze Runner is just as good; you need to read the book to understand," you mumble, trying to separate a piece of hair from your mouth as you curl another strand with your wand.
"You just have a huge crush on Dylan O’Brian, let’s be honest," your boyfriend chuckles, sending you a look through the mirror, to which you just roll your eyes back at him, acknowledging a) that he was right. b) he was literally right.
“Says the boy who had a crush on Fluttershy when we watched My Little Pony,” you say, giving him a 'don’t try me' look. His jaw falls before giving your hair a tiny soft pull.
"You said you wouldn’t bring it up," he laughs before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Well..." you just shrug.
“Fluttershy reminds me of you,” Jungkook stands behind you, his fingers playing with your freshly curled hair. “Until you act like a brat,” he tugs on your hair, making your head snap backwards, where he leaves a big fat smooch on your lips.
“Okay, princess, let’s go,” he says before unplugging the curling wand wire, grabbing your bag and coat, before holding your hand and leading you outside.
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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months
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yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario
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warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.
There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.
You are responsible for your Internet consumption!
Hey guys, welcome back to another yandere fic, introducing Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me write this and finding the perfect likeness for my character, especially when this idea came to me all of a sudden on a Sunday night when I should be sleeping instead of staying up an ungodly hour.
As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this scenario will be taken down. I'm not sure if this will be a series. At the moment, this is just a scenario.
With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the cutthroat world of publishing.
PART TWO
Yandere!Literary Agent is a man who prides himself on being very good at his job. He represented one of the best publishing houses in the country. Anything less than what he expected from his clients was unacceptable.  
If the manuscript arrived in his inbox exactly two minutes past the promised deadline, he would not look at it. If his client is acting like a stupid moron at a function or royally fucking up their reputation by posting something inappropriate on their social media account, he is not cleaning up their mess. He is not their babysitter. They are full-grown adults. And if one of them is not able to produce another book that will actually sell past the number of copies slated to be printed, he will let them go. Call him cruel if you want. Yandere!Literary Agent is simply being pragmatic. He wasn’t cheap. He only wants the best of the best.
So imagine Yandere!Literary Agent’s surprise when a particularly difficult client sent him a completed manuscript. He planned on writing her an email that after much deliberation, it was time for her to find another agent to represent her. The client, Abigail Crowley, had written an adult dark academia trilogy and a feminist retelling of the myth of Theseus, told from the perspective of his lover Adriane. The manuscripts following the conclusion of her last book, however, were complete shit. Her royalties were nearly gone, having squandered them on a penthouse in a high-end neighborhood, the latest clothes, and a wine fridge. You heard him. A fucking wine fridge when she could have replaced that shoddy laptop of hers with something better so she could keep writing books and not have it crap out on her. 
Half-amused and half-annoyed at this pathetic attempt to keep her contract with the publishing company from being null and void, Yandere!Literary Agent clicked on the attachment and read it. One page became four, then fifty. He had to force himself to stop when it was lunchtime and he was already at the mid-way point. 
This story, it was…good. No, it was more than good. It was absolutely fantastic. And Yandere!Literary Agent did not compliment his clients’ works very often, which meant he believed at this very moment, this manuscript will most definitely become Abigail’s comeback to the literary industry. Book sales would go through the roof, A Netflix deal was also possible. But the first hurdle he had to overcome was pitching the manuscript, and making sure the query letter was at least consistent with the story that Abigail was trying to sell to him.
And he’ll make it happen. He is very good at his job, after all. 
Once he had successfully pitched it with a bit of extra charm, he contacted Abigail. She was over the moon, promising to make any necessary edits to the manuscript and it will be sent to him on time. From there, time fast forwarded. ARC books were sent out, Abigail selected the cover designs for the regular and special editions, and a tentative book tour was scheduled. Seven cities, and one international trip, maybe another in the future. Sales for this book were projected to exceed expectations. Yandere!Literary Agent was very confident things would go smoothly from here. At least he had thought so.
A month before the book was to be published, his secretary knocked on his door and said he had a visitor. They insisted on seeing him. Yandere!Literary Agent raised his brow, rising from his desk and stepping out into the hall and saw you. 
In the beginning, he will begrudgingly confess that his first impression of you was someone who is painfully average and out of place. A backpack slung over your shoulder, dressed in navy blue medical scrubs and looking absolutely haggard. Your eyes, though, shined with anxiety and determination. You inclined your head. 
“I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I know you’re busy, but I have some concerns about the book that’s going to be released soon by Abigail Crowley.” 
Yandere! Literary Agent’s gaze sharpened.. “And what, pray tell, are your complaints?” He crossed his arms. “Are you one of the people who had signed up to be ARC reader and didn’t get their copy?” 
You raised an eyebrow. “...No?”
“Then why -”
“Because it is my novel that is being published. Without my consent.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I know it is hard to believe, I get it.” You then swung your backpack around to your front, unzipping the larger compartment. You pulled out a large notebook, some papers, and a flash drive. You held them out to him. “But I think what I have here might convince you to allow me ten minutes, if not five, to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. This isn’t about money, this isn’t about suing your company. I just want my story back. I’ve already tried talking to Abigail about it, and she isn’t picking up my calls. Please.” You said. “Three minutes.” 
His schedule was clear until the two o’clock meeting with another client on the other side of town. That was about an hour and half from now, as he had just come back from lunch. He supposed he could give you three minutes. Rolling his eyes, Yandere!Literary Editor swiveled on his heel. 
“Let’s see what you have. Melissa, please hold my calls until I’m done.” His diligent secretary nodded and went back to her desk. You followed him like a lost little duckling back to his office. Once the door was closed, you handed him everything. 
Yandere!Literary Editor went over the materials carefully, flipping through the pages of the notebook. The outlines and character designs were here, all written in excruciating detail and in such tiny print. He asked you random questions, going off of his memory from the manuscript and these notes. You answered him without hesitation.
“Yes, that’s correct. What? No, absolutely not. I would never have those characters be romantically paired up! Their relationship is too toxic, and wouldn’t set a good example to the target audience. I’m sorry, what? No, that isn’t her name! It’s Cristabel, not Anastasia! She’s supposed to be assisting the Night Emperor with collecting intelligence via the gossip of salons under her alias, not swooning over his brother when he’s already happily married to his wife! Good God, no. That scene should not even be there! That’s filler content and makes the character growth of the protagonist seem like the pay-off wasn’t worth it, or that he didn’t learn anything at all since the beginning of the book!” 
Yandere!Literary Agent grounded the molars of his back teeth, inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nostrils. Keeping his emotions in check is one of the reasons why he has survived in the publishing industry for this long, and he’s such a successful man. 
But hearing you speak about the characters, perfectly recalling the manuscript’s themes and looking back at the notebook in his hand, seeing the colorful  sticky notes with edits and improvised scenes written on them…he couldn’t deny it any further. You were the real author of the book he’s representing, and Abigail Crowley played him like a goddamned fiddle.
 If this wasn’t enough damning evidence of his client’s plagiarism, you had shown him an original illustration of the world you had created. It was done by an artist you had commissioned on Etsy, with proof of purchase for their services and a timestamp. Three years ago. That was when Abigail’s last best-selling book hit the shelves, and when her creative well began to dry out. 
You must have caught on to his irritation, because you told him that you weren’t here to intentionally stir up any trouble. A coworker had told you about Abigail’s newest book coming out, and the premise was exactly yours, at least what was advertised in the BookTok and Youtube trailers online. You’ve been searching high and low for your manuscript, and the only other person who has been in your apartment and knew about your creative endeavors has been Abigail. She wasn’t really your friend, per say. You took some of the same creative writing courses. You eventually found another career to pursue, and you kept writing as a hobby. She went on to become a professional author and never missed an opportunity to show off her success whenever she invited you out for drinks at an upscale bar or went to fancy dinners. 
Why would Abigail steal the book you’ve been working on for three years when you work a full-time day job, you had no idea. She’s living the dream that she’s always wanted, defying her mother’s wishes to get a normal job because writing is everything to her, and she would never give up on it. But if you were to be hypothetical, it might be another attempt to somehow get one up on her self-proclaimed rival, Cindy Chen, who is an even bigger success than her. 
You then rubbed your eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” You murmured, standing up from your seat. “Keep the notebook, the maps, whatever you want. If you could return them to me when you’re done, that’s all I ask. And an apology from Abigail, if you’re able to get one out of her. Like I said, this isn’t about money, royalties, or fame. I just want my story back.” 
Yandere!Literary Agent immediately stood up, his eyes slightly widened in fear. “Wait, please, just a moment! I know you’re tired, you want to go home…but I need to set things right. If I had known that this manuscript, your story, had been stolen, I would have never spearheaded its  publication.” And he wouldn’t have. Not only would it affect his reputation, but the company’s too. Stocks would plummet, and there would be a feeding frenzy on social media with #abigailcrowley, #plagiarism, #sailboatpublishinghouse. 
When you looked at him, his heart lurched uncomfortably at seeing your lips fall into a crestfallen expression. You looked so tired, so done with everything, and oh god you looked like you were about to cry shit. Walking around his desk, Yandere!Literary Agent eased you to sit back down and quickly prepared an espresso, possessing a machine to make it in his office so he did not have to walk down five flights to the break room. 
You thanked him for the drink and took a sip, wrinkling your nose slightly, no doubt surprised at the taste. You must not be a regular espresso drinker, or prefer how you made it. Either way, he was grateful that you did not bolt out of the office. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melissa’s number. 
“Call all of the heads, including the marketing and social media departments. This is an emergency meeting. Now!” Bless Melissa, she did not ask him questions and said she would get on it immediately, hanging up on him. The next person he called was Abigail fucking Crowley. He sweet-talked her into coming to the office, apologizing for interrupting her ‘creativity time’ and promised it won’t take long. She swore to be there in a half an hour, so long as traffic didn’t back up. Yandere!Literary Agent played the understanding card and hung up, his smile being replaced with a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. He scoffed. He then turned to you. 
“Everything will be resolved soon.” He promised. 
“Sir -” You began. 
“Yulian, please.” 
“Mister Yulian, I understand that you want to make things right, but…can you really get Abigail to talk? She blocked my calls, and the book is hitting the shelves in a month, maybe less than that? How are you going to recover the money that has gone into getting it published, the fees for the printing companies, and the marketing? Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not too familiar with how publishing works these days.” 
You weren’t wrong, at least in the aspect that the company has put a significant amount of money into the publication of the stolen manuscript, your work, he added mentally. It was too late to stop the printing, and the final draft would need a significant amount of changes. Unless…
“Abigail is a plagiarist, and you are the rightful creator. The way I see it, we can salvage the financial loss by putting your name on the cover, and fixing the glaring omissions as well as other scenes you claim shouldn’t even be there.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Of course, we would need to have a press conference and explain why we are changing authors, and what she has done. Considering the timetable and coordinating with the printing companies, it will be cutting it close.” 
You stared at him silently for a long moment before placing the espresso cup back onto the tiny saucer with a soft clink, releasing a heavy sigh. “If I agree to do this, to help with the edits, probably fuck up my sleeping pattern and might potentially be fired from my job unless I can use some of my PTO, what will I get in return?” 
He smiled. “Abigail will be the one to pay for publishing and marketing fees. I can extend the deadline for the revisions by a week. And you will be paid for your time, of course. There will be no need to come here to drop off revisions either. All correspondence will be through email. As an agent, I am qualified to be your representative during press conferences, so you will not have to be present. All I would ask of you is to turn in the final manuscript on time and not say anything on social media until our legal team is fully prepared.”
“No need to worry about Twitter or Facebook. Haven’t logged  on to my account in years.” You raised the espresso cup to your lips. “Too much politics.” You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled frown stretching across your face. “Any chance I could get all of this in writing? I might need to get a lawyer if Abigail tries to take it to court and sue me for defamation.” 
Yandere!Literary Agent nodded. He opened up a blank document and immediately typed up the contract, including everything that you have discussed and a few other variables. Once he finished, he printed it out, handing it to you. You read through the contents carefully before handing it back to him.
“It looks good - it’s all here and I’m agreeable to the terms.” You said.
Humming under his breath, Yandere! Literary Agent signed the bottom. You signed your name next to his, with today’s date and the time. 
He ignored the tiny tingle that crawled up his spine when your fingertips brushed against his as you gave him back the pen. You agreed to stay until the matter with Abigail was over, and he would email you the manuscript so you could go through everything when you get home. 
As it turned out, you did not have to wait much longer for the best-selling author to make her entrance at Board Room 3. Exchanging numbers with Yandere! Literary Agent you would wait in the adjacent room until he sent you a text to make your entrance. Melissa escorted you to said room when he received a message from Abigail that she would be here in ten minutes. 
It’s time. That was the message he sent you. When you opened the door, revealing yourself to the staff and the flustered Abigail…she snapped. 
She rambled how she needed a book, just one more successful book, and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t lose her penthouse, she would still be considered a worthy rival to Cindy Chen, and above all else, she could still write as she had always wanted to do since she was a teenager. You already had a normal job, you had a steady income, you weren’t even a writer. Being a hobbyist writer did not count. Yes, she took your manuscript, but it wasn’t a big deal! You could just write another book when you had time between shifts at the hospital, right? 
The look you gave her…it was resignation. Hopelessness. Disappointment. 
“Abbie…it wasn’t just a story I wrote. You should know that. Writing is so much more than that. I’ve tried to be nice, to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry it’s come to this, I really am.” You said. That was the last thing you said before you were escorted outside of the door. Seeing your part in this is over, Yandere! Literary Agent took control of the room. 
“Whether it is a hobby or professional writing, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole someone’s work and tried to pass it off as your own.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are a thief, nothing more and nothing less.” Then the lawyers approached Abigail, presenting her with the fees she will need to pay. If there was an issue, going to court would not be an issue as he had all of the evidence needed to ruin the once best-selling writer Abigail Crowley. 
Her reaction was….amusing. 
After security had escorted the screaming woman off of the premises, Yandere!Literary Agent went to search for you, thinking you had gone back to his office to wait for him. You weren’t there. Melissa said you did stop by her desk, only to leave a message on a sticky note that you needed to go home but promised to get the revisions done as fast as you could, and thanks for the espresso it was really good. 
Yandere!Literary Agent smiled softly at the hastily written chicken scratch, pocketing it in his trousers before going back inside his office. You weren’t like any of his other clients. And he would like to get to know a bit more. Who knows? Perhaps….he could persuade you to sign a contract with him, be your agent. You shouldn’t hide your talents from the world. There were people who would love to read your stories, and he had no doubt that the company would benefit from it too. 
But there was no need to rush. There was a month until the book was to be released. That was more than enough time for him to work his magic. He is good at his job, after all. 
Taglist
@impeakcharacterdesign
@faesdreaming
@faux-ecrivain
@majestichugs
@abelheilonwife
@suiana
@lxdymoon0357
@dxmoness
@tired-of-life-86
@imperfectbloodmoon
@lovely-nightmares
@yandere-dark-cupid
@beardedblizzardexpert
@d10nsaint
@likesugarandcyanide
@justcressida
@mooly-artistic
@cassanderasblog
@swallowtailcherry
@amidst-the-tempest
@usernames-are-so-hard-to-create
@navierkalani
@yanderefangirl
©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024
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soraphic · 4 months
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this isn't proofread at allllllll i rlly couldn't be fucked i'm sorry. (babydaddy)plug!connie (with abt a paragraph of eren🙈),smut,dirty talk,connie has a breeding kink,unprotected sex,creampie.. that's it?
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𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 — 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢 (𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝)
you were being practically folded in half atop the crisp,white sheets of an uncomfortably sanitised hotel room as your phone rang.
a loud groan was let out from the man above you,but he allowed you a slither of space to pick up the facetime as you argued - "what if something's happened?"
you had entrusted your son with his daddy for the long weekend as your new,although not inherently a stranger,boyfriend pampered you with a trip from philly to new york.
he had coerced you into a sex-filled getaway with the notion that,as a 'single mother',you deserved some time off and that your son would adore some quality time with his dad.
you agreed on the promise that your baby would be out of all that 'gang shit',to which connie swore on his life he would keep.
that now left you and your son in different states and a slightly uneasy feeling in your stomach for the majority of the day. however,as if connie telepathically knew when his presence would be most annoying,he decided to call you just as things were progressing with you and your new beau.
you picked up the facetime,watching connie's face light up the screen with a shit eating grin. "hey,mami."
he had the dark hood of his custom all-black clothing pulled over his head,the slight peak of a ski mask able to be seen framing his face,highlighting the small cross decorating his cheekbone,as well as your name in cursive bending just above his eyebrow.
immediately conscious of the lack of the noise on his end of the line,you asked,"where's my son at,connie?"
"relax,ma,he sleepin' right next to me." he shuffled the camera to display your baby's sleeping figure,lips pursed and long lashes touching the fat of his cheeks as he slept. so serious,just like his daddy.
the phone was then brought back to connie,his jawline sharp as he pushed his tongue into his cheek,reaching over to adjust your son's blankets with the end of a pacifier hanging out of his mouth,phone resting against his chest.
after sorting your son,he looked back toward you,readjusting in his seat against the cream-coloured couch to take in the sight of you.
your hair was strewn out all over the pillows,your dark lip liner smeared down your chin and a content expression on your face having seen your child. although he had the joys of being blissfully unaware,seeing connie beside your own state through the facetime had you slightly reconsidering. you looked nothing like how you usually did after a fuck with connie,your makeup and lashes usually cried off with smears of drool down your chin simply from the delicious feeling of him pounding you. you shook off the thought almost as quickly as it came,not allowing yourself to indulge in it until you were at least back home.
"you been feedin' my baby?" the way you said it held a warning to it,but it never really worked with connie.
"you think 'ion know how to look after my son? he been eatin' good,ma,none of that formula shit."
you hesitated to praise him,not wanting to irritate your boyfriend further with any ex-to-ex pet names.
there was a few moments of content silence,but it was short-lived as it always is with connie,"so you not out with all your lil' girlfriends tonight?"
you had almost forgotten you had told him it was a 'girls vaca' to blow off some steam,mikasa and sasha covering for you while cosied up in their own homes.
eren scoffed beside you,dropping his head to laugh into his chest. you slapped his arm,demanding him to be quiet with your eyes alone,hoping to god connie hadn't heard the deep grumble of a painfully obviously male laugh.
"yo,you got someone else in there wit' you?"
the immediate reaction probably should've been to deny,deny,deny,but instead your instinct was to clap back at him just as hard.
"'n what if i did? we not dating,connie,you just the dick that impregnated me."
"no puedo creer," he mutters with a hand to his forehead,"who the fuck is it?"
"why do you care?" you knew you were being defensive,but who was he to stop you seeing other people?
"estupida,you on some fuckin' bae-cation with this mámon?"
"leave him alone,connie!"
"oh,so he there 'n he not gon' speak?coño."
you began to formulate an argument to fire back at him,as well as eren opening his mouth to speak,but the 3 of you were cut off by the shrieking sounds of a baby crying as your shouting had awoken your son.
connie was quick to place his phone down,carefully taking your son into his arms. he then leaned down to pick you up,bouncing your son on his hip as he pointed toward the camera,"look,you want your mami? say hi to mami,chico."
your son almost immediately settled,nuzzling into his daddy as connie pressed his lips to the swell of your son's cheek,giving a few kisses before moving to place one against his forehead.
you stopped your cooing at the screen to snap at connie once your son with settled. "look at you,now you done woke him up!"
he didn't reply,just continued to rock your son,now hyper aware of the fact that there was some guy balls deep in his baby mom listening in on your conversation.
"so you not gon' answer me now?"
"watchu want me to say?"
you were almost speechless. it wasn't like connie to ever avoid an argument like this,usually by this point having severely lost his shit. did he not care anymore?
you huffed,shifting around in the bed uncomfortably,pursing your lips,"'kay,i'll call you tomorrow morning before my drive."
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your bags made an awful screech across the hard wood floors of connie's home,one the two of you previously shared. it had been up to you to design the interior,and not a day went by that you didn't severely regret your choice of flooring.
you quickly rid yourself of your scarf and jacket,hanging them neatly beside an array of both yours and connie's coats. even after moving all your important shit out,there was still bits and pieces of you filling connie's home,one that he still considered to be just as much yours as it was his. you were left in the knitted two piece you travelled in,paired with the chestnut uggs connie had gotten you last year,a fact about most of your outfits eren wasn't privy to. the beige tracksuit was one connie had always appreciated you in,which maybe contributed to your decision on the outfit this morning,although you'd never admit to it. it really did look good on you,but whether you mostly believed that because of his words and inability to keep his wandering hands off you you weren't exactly sure.
you practically skipped into the sitting room,having missed your two favourite boys for 3 days. the cheesy grin you were wearing grew ten fold when you were greeted with the sight of your son cuddled up on the couch in your baby daddy's arms,both almost completely immersed in connie's phone.
his eyes flickered up to meet yours for just a second,before breaking the contact and staring back at the screen. you couldn't help but frown slightly,almost dragging your feet over to him as you bend down to pick up your son,his eyes growing when he recognised your face. connie almost felt smug when he noticed your long nails curling around your son's chubby torso,ones he had paid for with his initial tattooed into your ring finger.
"you gon' stay silent the whole time,connie?"
his gaze snapped up to your face,feeling almost caught out by the cat-like grin spread across your face as you cuddled into your son.
"nah,jus' thinkin'." he shrugged.
"about?"
"-how good you gon' look wit' another one of my babies in you."
he leaned back with one arm spread across the headrest of the couch,a shit eating grin plastered across his face as he eyed you watching him,jaw dropped and spluttering for words.
"that's! no,connie.. i told you,that's not gon' happen again."
"what's not gon' happen? you lettin' me fuck you or gettin' you pregnant?" his grin only grew,head cocked at you with narrowed eyes,taking deep pleasure in catching every bit of your reaction.
"enough,connie!"
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"gon' put another baby in you,yeah?"
you shook your head desperately,hot tears wetting your fresh lashes and cascading down your red cheeks. "no,,no—" he clamped a hand down over your mouth to stop your wailing,shushing you as he leaned down to press his lips to the back of his knuckles. the fog clouding your brain and the bruising snap of his hips had you convinced you could feel his plump lips brushing against your own as he spoke.
"shh,ma,you gon' wake him up."
your heavy-lidded eyes drifted to the sleeping figure of your son,wrapped up next to the two of you in the portable bassinet you insisted connie bought to transport your son between houses when the two of you split for the third - or fourth - time. shallow breaths were leaving his full,parted lips. you couldn't help but feel shame bubble inside you at the feeling of your wetness spread embarrassingly over connie's thighs while he drilled you.
you opted to close your eyes,leaning your head back with connie's hand muffling your cries. the bastard laughed at you,leaning back to readjust the angle at which he ploughed you,now using the hand against your jaw as leverage to his thrusts.
"you wan' a lil' girl this time,ma?"
you whined in response,pushing against his hips in a feeble attempt to get him to let up on your abused pussy.
"she gon' look jus' like you.. dios mio.. all pretty n' shit.."
he started to pant,pushing his thumb against your lips. you opened your mouth to him,too fucked out to deny him any longer. he pushed the digit flat against your tongue,allowing your lips to close around him while he tipped his head back,letting a loud groan out into the room.
you hummed around his thumb,pulling him toward you with a tight hand around the bone of his hip,tits almost smacking you in the face with the force of their bouncing as he sped up.
he brought his unoccupied hand from your waist to rub at your overstimulated clit,pouting his lips at the pure horror that wash over your face,"one more so i can fill you up n' i'm done,baby."
you felt your next climax crash through you almost immediately after he came in contact with your sore nub,too overstimulated to hold out against his teasing. he spilled inside you soon after,fucking his cum into you as he kissed at the fat of your cheek,doting on you after such aggressive sex.
his eyes moved to the side of his head to quietly check on your son,still soundly sleeping,while you fought against passing out and staying the night.
though,you eventually woke up to connie's aggravating snoring right in your ear and a heavy,tattooed arm slung over your waist.
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soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.
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moonstruckme · 5 months
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Hey love!
Was wondering if you could write a poly!maurader x fem!reader fic where (boys being boys) they had a bet who could go longer without sex and about a week reader decided to tease them a lil bit where she would flirt or like bend over to pick up smtg.
Thanks for requesting lovely!
cw: mature themes
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
It’s so boy of them to discount you like this. Like, the bet had been funny at first, each of your boyfriends doing whatever they could to put the others in hot and heavy situations with you and each other, but after you and Sirius had gotten locked in a closet for the better part of an afternoon, they’d decided to take things down a notch. And as far as you’re concerned, that was when the fun part came to an end. 
The thing is, they’re guys. While they’re having their little stint of celibacy, they can at least still get themselves off. Multiple times a day, if they feel like it. It’s not that easy for you. So for you to not even have been involved in the bet, and yet be the one feeling its consequences most acutely…well, it’s beginning to grate on your nerves.
So you decide to make it fun again. 
“Oh, shit.” You say, getting James’ attention from where he’s going through the closet, trying to find a pair of pants to wear. “I dropped my wand under the bed.” 
He moves towards you. “I’ll get it for you, lovie.” 
“No, no, that’s alright.” You say, getting down on your hands and knees. “I’ve got it.” 
James falls silent as you arch your back under the pretense of reaching under the bed, letting your short skirt slip up to show the pretty, barely-there panties you’d picked out this morning. You linger for a bit longer than necessary, letting James take in the view from where he stands across from the bed. 
“Got it.” You emerge with the wand, sitting back on your legs and turning to James with a smile. 
His mouth is slightly open. He blinks, eyes dazed and pupils blown behind his lenses. “That’s, uh…” He blinks a few more times, faster. “That’s great, sweetheart. Glad you found it.” 
♡ ♡ ♡
“Gods.” Sirius nearly chokes when he sees you in the kitchen. “You’re looking nice today, angel.” 
You almost roll your eyes. You’re only wearing a tank top and underwear, but apparently that’s all it takes when your boyfriend’s been so long without any of you. Instead, you plaster on a coy smile.
“Thanks,” you say, as though you hadn’t noticed. “You look nice, too.” 
Sirius is making eyes at you as he leans his elbows on the counter. Like you’re the one who needs to worry. “Whatcha making, sweet thing?”
“Chocolate mousse. I’m just working on melting the chocolate right now.” You dip your forefinger into the warm, gooey liquid, bringing it to your mouth and sucking the chocolate off. You keep your eyes on Sirius’, so you can see the exact moment when his darken. “Mmm, want to try?” 
Sirius swallows. “Huh?”
You don’t bother looking innocuous, letting your eyes go droopy and suggestive in the way you know how. “I said, do you want some?” 
He’s silent for so long you think he might ask you to repeat yourself again, but then he clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, no—no thanks, doll. I’m good.” 
You pout. “It’s really good, though. Here, have a taste.” You cross the few steps between you and kiss him. 
Sirius takes a second to kiss you back, but when he does it’s so wanting that you don’t even have to be sneaky about winding one of your hands into his hair while using the other to bring his to your ass. He squeezes, and you moan into his mouth, grinding your hips into his just slightly. 
Sirius gasps, breaking away. He takes one step back, then another, putting distance between you as he tries to blink the glaze from his eyes. “Minx,” he whispers accusingly, and flees the kitchen. 
♡ ♡ ♡
“Thanks, baby.” You bat your eyelashes up at Remus as he brings you a glass of water from the kitchen. 
He lets out a low chuckle. “I know what you’re doing.” 
“No idea what you’re talking about,” you hum. 
Remus gives you a deadpan look, but there’s a glint of amusement in his amber eyes. “Earlier this morning, I went into our bedroom to find James, pantsless, with a hard-on.” It takes every ounce of control you have not to grin, but Remus quirks a brow like you have anyway. “And then a little while ago, Sirius came running out of the kitchen like something was chasing him, and he could barely speak. You didn’t have anything to do with that, dovey?” 
You let your eyes go wide and innocent as you shake your head. “Maybe they’re just getting sick of your competition.” 
“Mm, unlikely,” Remus hums, and his surety of his own willpower only worsens your determination to make him falter. “But if that’s the story you want to stick with, that’s fine.” 
You frown at him, the glass of water slippery with condensation in your palm. “Well, I—oh, damn!” you tip the glass of water into Remus’ lap, soaking his pants. He freezes, gasping at the cold. “I’m so sorry, honey. Here, let me help.” Luckily for you, you’d (completely coincidentally, of course) left a tea towel nearby earlier. You take it, blotting at Remus’ crotch with touches that start urgent but become lingering as you go on. After a minute, there’s really nothing left to sop up, and Remus hands are laid flat on the couch, every inch of him tense as you dab at his bulge with slow, tantalizing touches. 
When he speaks, his voice is low, gravelly. “You’re a lot more conniving than we give you credit for, you know that?”
You let your lips curl into a smile, leaving your hand to rest on his crotch. “I know.” 
Remus tips his head back, letting his eyes slip closed as he takes a slow, deep breath. “Fuck it.” 
You blink. “Huh?”
In the next second, Remus is gripping your hips and hoisting you up against him, your chest pressed to his. You inhale sharply as he stands, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he’s kissing at your throat, master of multitasking while he carries you into the bedroom. 
He nips at your jaw, and you giggle deliriously. “I won?” you ask, hardly believing it. Of all your boyfriends, you thought Remus had the least chance of breaking down before the others. 
His chuckle reverberates through you, and warmth flares in your core in response. “Sure you did, sweetheart. Though I think by the time we’re done here, who exactly won will be a bit more debatable.”
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number1jeonginstan · 2 months
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Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!
A/N: My second installment!!! I wrote this one in one sitting, hopefully, y'all like it, please give me feedback because I love to read it <333
Pairing: FWB!Hyunin x Reader
WC: 2.5k
Warnings: Unprotected sex (obvi, it's me, Ju...), sex dice, foot job (m! receiving), fingering, cumming inside, fluffy sex but also not??!
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Hyunjin, your best friend from high school, the man you had been sleeping with for the last 5 months because neither of you could find anyone to work around your schedules to sleep with, the person who you were getting drunk off of the expensive wine he was gifted, was begging you to roll a sex dice. 
It all started with the two of you deciding to spend Valentine’s Day together, instead of falling into cheap marketing tricks of spending upwards of hundreds of dollars on your significant others, you decided to spend it with your fuck buddy.
You had come to his apartment at around 7 at night, holding a box of chocolates that your co-worker had given you as well as takeout food for the two of you. 
The two of you sat down, watching a random show while munching on the Chinese food you had brought. 
“They definitely fucked after the episode was shot” Hyunjin giggled, taking a bite of the egg roll that was in your hand causing you to let out a quick “hey!” 
“I believe it” you replied back, taking note of their on-screen chemistry. “Their chemistry is just a bit too good” 
“Kind of like ours?” he giggled, stealing another piece of your food even though he had his own on the plate in front of him. 
“I aspire to be as delusional as you” you giggled, stealing a bite of his noodles as a way to get back at him. “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around his plate to try and hide it from you. 
“So when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it hell freezes over? That’s not very kind of you Mr.World Renound Model”  
“Exactly!” he grinned, kissing your lips before going back to the show in front of the two of you. 
Your brain short-circuited for a second, he had just kissed you, on the lips, when the two of you weren’t having sex. This is the first time he’s ever done that, maybe it was on accident you thought to yourself, trying to distract yourself, you quickly asked him if he had anything to drink. 
Maybe that’s what you had to do, loosen up, maybe you were just being a bit too up-tight because it was Valentine’s Day and you had vowed to never do couple-shit, but here you were with Hyunjin, but the two of you were just friends with benefits, right?
That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched him open the bottle of wine for the two of you. You watched as his muscles flexed, his body ridden in only a black wife beater and grey sweatpants, the outline of his dick could be easily seen. 
You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him, no wonder he was so famous, he’s fucking beautiful. 
“I don’t have glasses anymore” he groaned taking out two mugs from his cabinet. One was littered with cats and the other with Minho’s face. 
You looked at the mugs gobsmacked as it took you a second to process them, and as soon as you did, you busted out laughing. “Holy shit, are these the only things you have?” you giggled, watching him pour the contents of the bottle into the mugs. 
“Hey, they were a gift from the cat lover himself” he replied, an offended look on his face. 
“I’m just kidding, this will do just fine” you grinned, taking the cup with Minho’s face from him only to be stopped. “I don’t want you drinking out of this one” he quickly stated, handing it back to him only to grab the one with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. 
Little did you know the reason was because Hyunjin felt possessive over you, he didn’t want you drinking out a cup with another man’s face, an attractive one at that. 
He watched as you took a sip of the drink in your hands, the way the red liquor stained your lips, the slight blush on your cheeks as the two of you drank out of your designated cups. He could feel his cock slowly stir in his pants, the sight of you was enough to get him hard, but it wasn’t just that.
He wanted to kiss you for hours, go on dates, and cuddle with you, but he was too scared. Too scared to ask, too scared that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. He sighed as you ate one of the chocolates you brought, watching the way you licked the caramel sauce off your fingers, grinning at the sight of your childish ways.
The two of you reminisced as you drank backs pressed against his couch, each sip of the fruity smooth liquid causing more and more of your secrets to slip, your laughs overlapping one another. It was peaceful, the sound of his laughter sounded like home, and for him vice versa. 
As more secrets spilled from both of your lips, he stated something that caught your attention. “Hannie actually gifted me sex die for Christmas as a joke” he chuckled, reminiscing on how he glared at him as he saw what was in the velvet box. 
“I thought they were the earrings I really wanted, but nope sex die. He did actually give me the earrings too, so not all was lost” he giggled, pouring more wine into his mug. 
“Want to try them out?” you shrugged watching as he almost gagged on his drink. 
“You really want to?” he stuttered, wiping the bit of wine that dribbled out of his mouth with the back of his hand. 
“I mean, why not? We can put that gag gift to use!” you grinned, crawling over to him, and straddling his lap. “Come on Jinnie, do you not want to?” 
You looked up at him with the doe eyes he was a sucker for. He couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had asked ever so kindly.
He picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips arms around his neck as he walked you to his room, gently laying you on his bed as he rummaged through his desk for the die. 
You were on your back, hair splayed around you as you watched him, his eyebrows becoming unknit as he finally found them in the back of a drawer. 
“Here” he giggled, giving you the die to roll. “Let’s see” you whispered, looking at what it landed on. 
Right there, clear as day, the body part had landed on foot, the act was job. “Guess I’m giving you a foot job!” you giggled, watching his face go from one of worry to one of perplexity. 
“A what!” he shouted a bit too loud, causing you to laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you are scared. Plus, aren’t you the one who wanted to and I quote “eat my feet”?”
“I was, but this might be uncomfortable for you” he whined, not wanting you to do something you weren’t one hundred percent sure about. 
“I’m not uncomfortable, plus I want to try it. If I don’t like it, or you don’t we don’t have to do it again” you explained to him, getting up on your knees to be face to face with him, your lips kissing his in reassurance. 
“I mean if you aren’t opposed to it–” 
“I knew it, Seungmin owes me 100 bucks” 
“You bet on me having a foot fetish?” he stuttered out. 
“Yes, now lay back” you stated, dragging him onto his bed, his back against the headboard as your foot brushed against his cock. He let out a groan at the contact, his dick already hard as soon as you brought up the die.
You slowly rubbed your foot against his sweatpants, watching the way his head was thrown back, slight moans leaving his lips as he pulled down his joggers. His already erect cock slapping against his stomach. 
You slowly brushed your pedicured foot along the underside of his cock, watching the way he bit his lip as your toes ran along his tip. “Fuck baby, just like that” he groaned, a hand slapping over his mouth as your toes curled along his length. 
Each pump of your foot around his cock made him closer and closer. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” he whined. You slowly got up from your position across from him, straddling him as you kissed his lips. 
His lips formed a pout as you pulled away, your hands gravitating towards his head, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Has anyone told you how pretty you are” he whispered out loud, taking in the rise and fall of your chest.
He slowly pulled your shirt off your body, groaning at the sight of your tits, a black lacy bra adorning your breasts. “Fuck, these are so beautiful too” he whispered against your collarbones, kissing and biting them as he slowly traveled to your breasts.
He reached behind your back, unclipping your bra only to hear your breath catch in the air as he slowly pinched one of your nipples, sucking on the other one. 
“Jinnie” you whined, your hand running through his hair once again as he continued to abuse your chest.
“Such a whiney baby for me, I love it” he groaned as he left marks all over your chest, cupping your breasts. 
“Need you” you whined feeling your pussy drip at every passing moment that he wasn’t inside of you. 
“My baby needs me?” he chuckled, kissing your lips before slowly pulling down your own sweats, and throwing them somewhere in your room, along with your underwear. 
Before you could even do anything, he flipped you over, your body underneath him as he took sight of you. Your chest is littered with hickies, and your lips plump from kissing him over and over again. 
You were heaving as your hair surrounded your face. You were art and he wanted to stare at you forever. He took sight of your leaking pussy, his fingers trailing across it, catching the juices.
“You are so wet for me sweetheart, can’t believe you were trying to help me without taking care of yourself, such a selfless little girl” he whispered before slowly pushing his fingers into your cunt, stretching you out on his long fingers. 
“Just for you Jinnie, want to be such a good girl for you” you whimpered, your walls clenching around his fingers. 
“Yeah, you are a good girl for me, such a good girl, the best” he chuckled, kissing your lips as his fingers continued to abuse your cunt. He wanted to find that spot inside of you that made you go crazy. 
“You want to cum baby? Want to cum for me?” 
“Want to cum on your cock” you whined as you felt your high get closer as he slowly brought one of his fingers down to your clit. 
“My poor baby wants me to cum inside her, is that what’s it?” 
“Yes, want your cum Jinnie, please want it deep inside of me” 
“Who am I to deny such a sweet girl?” 
He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, eyes blown out at the sight of you whining at the loss of contact. He slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, watching as your poor little hole clenched around nothing but the air.
He gently slapped the tip against your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips before dragging it down and slowly pressing his cock into your cunt, watching you as your eyes rolled behind your head as he sheathed the entirety of his cock into your tight little cunt. 
“Take my big cock” he groaned, slowly thrusting inside of you, your back arching slightly off the bed as he thrusts into you harder, lifting your hips up so he could hit the spot he had with his fingers minutes prior.
“Is it good baby?” 
“So good, such a good cock, only cock I want” you whimpered as his thrusts began to get faster, a finger trailing down to your clit giving you the extra stimulation you needed. 
“There we go baby, come on, cum on my cock. You can do it, cum on Jinnie’s cock” he groaned into your ear, feeling the way your cunt was wrapped around him, sucking his cock in as he fucked you. 
“Ah– too deep” you whined, you could feel him hit your cervix, the tip of his cock thrusting against it, but he didn’t stop. 
“There we go baby, good girls cum on my cock” he groaned, he could tell that your high was nearby the noises that escaped your lips, and the way your thighs were wrapped around his torso. 
It only took one more particularly deep thrust for your cunt to spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper.
“So good!” you screamed, your head lolling to the side as he continued to pound into as he chased his own high. 
“Fuck, gonna cum into this tight little pussy” he whined into your neck, his thrusts getting more sporadic as he came deep inside of you, your walls drinking up every ounce of his cum. 
He fell on his back as you wrapped your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you. 
He looked at you, brushing the hair off your face. 
“I should get going” you whispered to no one but yourself. Before you could even get up, he stopped you. “Don’t please” he whined, his hand wrapped around your wrists. 
“Please baby, I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with you. I want to take you on dates, I want to make you breakfast in bed. I want to do every sappy thing we said we hated about couples with you. Please, let me do this for you, with you” he pleaded, kissing your cheeks and then your lips.
He pulled away, waiting for your response, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. 
“As long as you don’t poison me with your terrible cooking, I would love to go out with you” you giggled, kissing his lips.
“This isn’t a dream is it?” he whispered out loud, thinking to himself. 
“It isn’t” you giggled, cuddling him closer to your body, your head laying against his chest. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t as bad as you thought. 
666 notes · View notes
whore-era · 1 year
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1-800-GIRLS
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☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: where ellie dials the wrong number and meets you instead. ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, mentions spitplay/breathplay/overstimulation, mentions sexual interactions with men, dirty talking, guided masturbation (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames (babygirl, sweet girl, pretty girl, pup, puppy) let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: i feel like this kinda sucked bc towards the end i kinda rushed it, but i couldn't shake this idea n knew i had to write it. hope u like it bbs<3 also thank u to my bestie @elskittie for helping me figure some things out w this fic ☁︎ word count: 4,463 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 2
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phone call style story — reader is in italics, ellie is in bold.
monday, 12:45am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)
thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, hot stuff?
uhh.. i just wanted to order a pepperoni pizza..
oh yeah? you want something hot and ready? i have something hot and ready for you.
ummm..
you hear some shuffling in the background, "jess! i think you gave me the wrong number!" the person comes back on the line again.
this isn't papa tony's cheesy pizza place?
....do you want me to roleplay as papa tony's cheesy pizza place?
woah woah woah! roleplay?? who the fuck am i on the phone with?
this is sugar from 1-800-GIRLS.....a sex hotline...for you know? phone sex.
PHONE SEX?? you hear the girl's voice yell in the background, "jesse! you ass! you gave me the number to a phone sex hotline!"
"does she sound hot?"
"well yeah, but—"
hey, you do know it's $1 a minute right? you've been on the line for almost 5 minutes, babe.
HUHH?? hell no..ok thanks sugar bear, or whatever. bye!
the line clicks off, and you shrug. sitting back in your bed to continue watching your favorite netflix show. you feel your work phone vibrate again, the name flashing 'bobby', a regular who frequents the hotline.
sighing and picking up your phone and holding it to your ear, you take a bite from your sandwich as you answer your 15th call this evening, "thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, big boy?"
tuesday, 2:12am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)
thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you tonight, cutie?
hey....sugar.. i just- er- wanted to apologize for yesterday. my buddy got your number confused with a pizza place we really wanted to try. didn't mean to sound rude last night.
it's no issue, babe. don't sweat about it.
.......
.......
soooo.... is that the only reason why you called?
ellie didn't want to admit that she was attracted to 'sugar's' voice and that she'd been thinking about it all day during class. but also, ellie was high as a fucking kite, which gave her the courage to even dial the number again anyways.
i— uh— well— how does this whole thing work?
what thing? the hotline?
yeah..
well, you call me, we have phone sex or talk or whatever, and then you hang up. again, it's a dollar a minute.
okay, okay, i get it. so we can just talk? about anything?
yeah, if you want to.
sick.
ellie takes another drag from her joint, before speaking again.
so, do you like doing this? being an operator or whatever?
you let out a laugh, which ellie caught.
specify what you mean by 'like'?
i mean— this is your job. do you enjoy doing it?
ehh...i guess.
c'mon. you can be honest with me.
well, being a sex hotline operator has it's downsides. obviously helping old men jack off gets a little weird sometimes — they have some unusual fetishes.
oh yeah? what's been the weirdest one so far?
uhhh..i have this one regular who has me pretend i'm a ghost. apparently, having sex with ghosts is a real turn on for him.
what the fuck. seriously?
mhm, it's true.
shit, dude....i don't think i could ever do what you do. i dunno how you can do it.
well when you have college tuition and rent to worry about, the downsides don't seem all that bad.
holy shit, you're in college? how old are you anyways?
19.
that's crazy. we're around the same age. i figured you were a bit older.
how 'bout you? how old are you?
21.
not bad not bad. you're way different from the clients i usually get.
yeah? how?
considering my usual clients are 40 to 60 year old men who are married with kids and have secret fetishes, i'd say you're out of my ballpark.
ellie laughs.
how do you know i'm not secretly an old, 57 year old man who's married to my wife janet with three kids? and i have a balloon fetish?
you let out a giggle, adjusting your sleep shorts as you lay back down on your bed, completely invested in your conversation with this girl.
well, how can i appease your balloon fantasies?
i'm just fuckin' with ya. definitely not a man and i have the more normal kinks and fetishes.
is that so? what are the 'normal' kinks and fetishes?
uhhhh....well i'm into bondage, i love tying girls up..i dunno, just seeing them open and vulnerable does something to me. i'm into breathplay, spitplay, overstimulation, and i'm definitely a dominant so—
all you could do was gape as the girl went on her tangent, listing off every kink she could think of. you gulped, suddenly getting a bit nervous from this topic of conversation. you were experienced in the field of phone sex, but actual sex was a totally different world you had no practice in.
so, how 'bout you sugar?
...uhhh....i'm a virgin actually.
the other girl went silent on the other side of the line.
what? but you work as a sex hotline operator.
oh yeah- but— hold on, i'm getting another call. i'll speak to you some other time.
you hung up and threw your work phone across your bed, laying your head down on your pillows. talking to men was so much easier for you, so why do you get all caught up when you talk to a girl?
it was nearly 3:30am, so you decided to turn in and call it a night, mentally preparing yourself for a busy day tomorrow.
wednesday, 11:45am
sitting next to professor adams, patiently waiting for the students to turn in their quizzes, you try to focus on the text of your 'philosophy 101' book.
you were grateful that professor adams gave you the opportunity to be his teacher's assistant for a little bit of extra cash, and you weren't complaining either. the tasks he gave you were easy for a mere $16 an hour. still, it wasn't enough to support all of your bills, so you couldn't drop the hotline gig.
"and time! everyone hand your quizzes in to my TA, regardless if you finished or not," professor announced. all the students shuffled towards the front, handing you their quizzes as you neatly put them in a small pile.
"ah shit— let me put the date on that," a girl, with a very familiar voice spoke. looking up, you're greeted with the most attractive girl you've seen in your life. she had brunette hair and green eyes, with a small scar on her right brow. was this..? no, it couldn't be. that would be insane.
handing you the paper, her hand brushes against yours. you look down at her quiz, seeing in messy, scribbled black ink the name ellie williams.
slinging her backpack on one arm, she heads out the door, "jesse! wait up for me!"
leaving you in a daze, you were completely speechless by the idea that one of your new, favorite clients from your nighttime job is actually a student at your university.
saturday, 1:45am → 1:14:34 ongoing call with 401-890-6798 (cranston, RI)
thanks, sugar. will be calling you again at the same time next week.
no problem, sir. goodnight. dream of me.
sure will, babygirl.
the line clicks as the older man hangs up, and you shudder a bit, feeling uncomfortable after having to roleplay as a ghost, again.
sighing heavily, you place your work phone on your desk and pick up your real phone, opening instagram and scrolling on your feed as you mindlessly snack on some gummy bears.
you double tap to like some of your friends pictures, wishing you were out at a party, drinking some lukewarm beer and dancing with your girls to the latest tiktok hits.
but instead you were cooped up in your apartment, dirty talking old men through their fantasies and bearing witness to their guttural groans and masturbation. it was a shame that friday and saturday nights were your busiest evenings.
taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment, your finger hovering over the instagram search bar.
fuck it, you thought, typing 'ellie williams' and hitting search.
the username @_elliewilliams pops up, and bingo. it was the same girl from professor adams class.
luckily her profile was public, so you take your time carefully combing through her instagram account, mindful not to accidentally like her posts or anything.
ellie's feed consisted of smoking weed, eating out, and hanging with her friends, jesse and dina. there were only two selfies she had posted — one of her and an older gentleman and one mirror picture of her in a grey hoodie and a light brown canvas jacket that made her look so good.
the ringing from your work phone caught you off guard, causing you to jump in your chair and exit out of the instagram app. you take a look at the number, and speak of the devil, it was ellie herself. she was the only jackson number that ever contacted you.
saturday, 2:10am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)
thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, sugar speaking. what can i do for you, handsome?
hey, sugar. just wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went. i probably pushed a boundary or something— i'm not sure if you're supposed to talk about personal things with customers— so, i'm sorry.
you let out a soft laugh.
why is it when you call me, you're always apologizing?
'cause i'm a fuck up, that's why.
nooo, that's not true. besides, don't worry about it. your question just caught me off guard, you know? never had clients ask things about me before i guess.
ahh, gotcha. so...were you busy before i called?
you shake your head, even though she was on the phone and couldn't see you.
uh, not really. my line doesn't usually get busy until...12 midnight ish.. it slows down by like 2 am though. how about you? what are you up to this friday night?
i just got back home from a party. business was slow and it was getting boring, so i dipped.
business? what business?
ah— well—
ellie silently cursed to herself, not wanting to scare you away with her current occupation.
if i tell you what i do, promise you won't get freaked out or anything?
you're talking to a phone sex hotline operator. don't worry.
you can hear her laugh from the other end.
well, fuck it, cat's out of the bag. i deal weed on campus and shit.
ahhh. i like that. is that how you can afford the minutes you spend calling me?
yup. i can stay on the phone for hours if we wanted.
maybe you'll be my only customer.
i wouldn't complain.
speaking of customers, do you want me to save your number under a specific name or nickname or anything? since i'm assuming you're gonna be a regular?
trying to confirm if it was indeed ellie you were speaking with, you sat on the edge of your chair, anxiety building in your belly.
what nicknames do your clients usually pick?
uhhh. master, sir, king, mister, alpha— umm and daddy.
something stirred inside ellie hearing that last nickname roll off your tongue.
you could just put me down as ellie.
got it.
what do i call you? do i just keep calling you sugar?
well, you're a customer. you can call me anything you like, but, for formalities and privacy, i can only tell you my hotline nickname — sugar.
okay, okay, that makes sense. you're not really allowed to have any personal or close relationships with clients, huh?
no, not really. mostly for safety purposes.
ellie was a little disappointed to know that she wouldn't be able to get to know the girl she was talking to beyond calling on the phone. she already felt herself getting attached. your voice was alluring and enticing, and she couldn't help but want to hear it more, and possibly put a name and face to who it belonged to.
but, i could bend the rules a little if i really wanted to.
yeah? let's see about that.
saturday, 4:45 am → 2:43:03 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)
oh my god! did you and your ex get caught??
you were enamored with ellie. the way she could keep a conversation going and the stories she told — you didn't wanna hang up.
no, no, no, luckily we hid behind a dumpsters before the cops could catch us. it's hilarious thinking about it now, but we were dumbass 18-year-olds back then.
you both were in fits of laughter, your belly aching and tears watering in the corners of your eye.
as you calmed down, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking a question that's been racking on your mind.
so, how long were you and your ex together?
uhhhh, about 2 years.
ohhh okay........are you seeing anyone right now?
ellie lets out a laugh, and you can hear her smile, even through the phone.
why? who's asking?
well, i was just— uhh—
i'm just fuckin' with you. nah, i'm not seein' anyone right now. single af.
okay, okay. good to know.
how 'bout you?
nope. i'm single too.
seriously?? how?
i dunno. just never found the right person i guess. also, working for this hotline has made me lose hope for relationships in general, some of these dudes call me and say all this stuff — while having a whole wife and family at home.
i think you're looking in the wrong place then. try talking to people at school or going out to parties—
can't. if i'm not doing homework or studying, i'm working and doing this. i gotta make a living somehow.
ellie couldn't help but feel bad, knowing if she could, she'd support you full time and take that weight off your shoulders.
hmm, maybe you'll meet someone who could support you and take care of your bills and stuff.
oh? where would i find that? sounds too good to be true.
maybe they're closer to you than you think.
your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say next.
i— uh— i have to go. it's 5am.
oh— uh— yeah. of course. goodnight, sugar.
goodnight, ellie.
sunday, 11:37pm → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)
hey.
hey. where's your usual greeting?
you're not a usual customer, so i think we're past that now, ellie.
ellie's heart thumped in her chest hearing you say her name.
good. anyways, what are you up to tonight?
just studying for a quiz tomorrow morning. how about you?
smoking, just finished some homework.
what class was it for?
uhhh, just this calculus class.
you clamped your mouth shut, suppressing a gasp. it was for professor adams class.
....uhhh, i could never get calculus. it's so hard.
yeah? maybe one night i can tutor you.
i'd be a terrible student.
i think you'd be the perfect student. i can teach you, i got you.
you couldn't help but think there was another meaning behind her words, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions. it would be embarrassing if you got her message all wrong.
what's your quiz on anyways?
energy transfer between cells, it's for biology.
i know a thing or two about that. here— why don't we do this, just explain to me what you know and we'll go from there.
okay, i can do that.
you and ellie spent the next two and a half hours talking about cell function and energy transfer and everything else in between, with her correcting you and adding in important things you missed.
alright, sugar, i think you're ready for this quiz tomorrow.
you think so?
i know so. you're such a smart girl.
there she goes again, praising you.
uh, th-thanks.
don't worry, okay? i know you'll do great.
a smile curls on your lips, flustered from all her support.
you should get some sleep, so you can be focused and ready for tomorrow.
m'kay. thank you, ellie, for all your help.
of course. always. goodnight, sugar.
goodnight, ellie.
monday, 5:32pm → 45:21 ongoing call with mister j (corpus christi, TX)
yeah, babe? you want me to fuck your tight ass?
mhm, yes mister.
c'mon. beg, sugar.
please. fuck my tight hole, mister j.
ah, hell.
you can hear his belt buckle clanging, and the soft buzz of a zipper.
what's wrong with 'ya tonight, sugar? you're bein' a real buzzkill, 'ya know that? fuckin' turnin' me off and makin' me soft.
i-i'm sorry, mister j. please, jus—
yea, yea, save it. we'll jus' try 'gain tomorrow.
the line clicks on the other end. tossing your work phone on your desk, you fall back on your bed and stuff your face in your pillow. weeping into the plush material, you let yourself fall apart and break down.
but your sobbing session is cut short as you can hear the familiar ring of your work phone.
wiping your tears, you walk over to your desk and answer.
monday, 5:45pm → 00:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)
thanks for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's suga-
woah, woah, woah are you crying?
e-ellie?
yeah, baby, it's me. sounds like you're crying. what's going on? talk to me.
today was just a really, really bad day and then i opened my hotline a little early and one of my first clients just lashed out on me because i wasn't responding the way he wanted me to and—
you sniffle.
— and i'm just really stressed out by everything going on in my life right now.
i'm sorry. i wish there was something i could do— someway i could comfort you or take the weight off.
i-it's fine, ellie. talking to you is making it a little better.
ellie was silent for a moment, thinking carefully and planning her next moves accordingly.
do you trust me?
....y-yea, of c-course. why?
i'm gonna help you ease the tension. okay?
okay.
first of all, where are you?
i-in my room, sitting at my desk.
okay. go lay down on your bed.
with your phone pressed to your ear, you pick up your legs and stride over to your bed, laying down on the fluffy, material of your blanket.
okay, i'm on my bed.
good. what are you wearing?
foreseeing the direction this phone call was heading in, apprehension builds in your stomach.
ellie, you really don't have to-
hey, i want to help you. if that's okay with you. if not, we could talk about something instead.
biting your lip, you fold.
i-i'm okay with it, but i-i've never— played with myself with a customer before. i don't really do anything with myself even when i'm not working anyways.
that's okay. don't think of me as a customer, think of me as a...teacher. i got you, remember?
okay.
good girl. now, what are you wearing?
uh.. a tank top and shorts.
cute. take them off.
gulping, you follow her orders, shimmying out of your top and shorts.
done?
mhm.
good. so obedient.
i want you to rub your boobs for me. rub your nipples, pull on them, just feel the skin under your hand for me, baby.
rubbing the soft skin along your breast, and tugging on your hardened nipples, you bite your lip, savoring the way your body feels under your touch.
how does it feel?
feels good.
bet it does.
ellie couldn't stop her mind from imagining you, on your bed, perfectly naked. and how she'd give everything up, just to sneak a peek.
now, i want you to just rub your hands against the sensitive parts of your body. be slow and gentle, we're not rushing anything.
as your hands drift from your neck, down to the hills of your breasts, and to the edge of your panties, ellie speaks through the line again.
doesn't it feel nice, baby?
mhm.
wish i could be there, to watch you, touching your pussy.
you instinctively clamp your thighs, feeling heat rush to your core.
alright, take your panties off. slowly.
you slowly peel the piece of material off, looking at the small, wet spot that formulated on your underwear.
okay, they're off.
such a good girl, following my every command.
you gulp, her nickname for you sending shivers up your spine.
slowly feel the skin on your legs. stroke your inner thighs, tease yourself a little.
hanging off on her every word, you let out a shaky breath, the heat in your cunt growing only bigger and bigger.
god, i wish i can be there to see this right now. bet you look so good, thighs spread apart, pussy all wet— all because of me.
i- i'm aching. i need more, ellie.
i know, baby, i know. i wish i can help you more. if it were up to me, i'd have you bent over your desk, taking you from the back. fuck.
your mind drifts to that image, of her fucking you, taking you as hers. a stream of your slick begins to leak out from your pussy. god, you wanted her so bad.
slide a finger between your pussy, baby. let me hear how wet you are.
spreading your thighs apart, the tip of your fingers slips in between the folds of your pussy lips, the slick sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room. loud enough for ellie to hear.
fuuuuuck.
i-
you tried to speak, but it comes out sounding like a pathetic whimper. ellie's brain was going insane, she couldn't believe where she had you, writhing from her mere words.
go ahead, pretty girl. rub slow circles on your clit.
the pads of your pointer and middle finger gently rub steady, figure 8's against your hardened nub. closing your eyes, you imagined ellie, and how it was her hand instead of yours. the thought had you panting, faint breaths releasing from your parted lips.
your pussy sounds so wet, holy shit. you sound so fucking good for me. so fucking perfect.
as your fingers continue massaging on your sopping, wet clit, a pool of wetness gathers right below your ass.
how does it feel, baby?
f-feels amazing, ellie.
you let out a low whimper.
i wish you were here.
me too, pup. me too.
you can hear her heavy breaths from the other end of the phone.
i wish i could be there, kissing your neck. trailing my lips down to suck on your nipples. fuuck, wanna taste every inch of your skin. i wanna feel your pussy tighten around my fingers.
you let out another pitiful moan, only to hear ellie curse under her breath again.
rub your pussy faster for me, angel. imagine it's me, pumping my fingers in and out. would daddy's pretty girl like that?
you couldn't respond. all you could let out was these weak whines, yearning for ellie and her touch. you added a third finger, building onto the pressure and picking up the speed.
your moans sound so pretty. wonder how'd they sound when you're taking my strap. gonna have you cry out my name, yeah? isn't that right?
mhm, yes, daddy.
good. that's what daddy likes to hear, such a polite girl.
with your eyes rolling back, you could feel your orgasm building.
i-i'm gonna— ellie, i—
you gonna cum for me, puppy? huh? c'mon, rub faster, baby. i know you have a little bit more left in you.
your fingers speed up, the sound of your wetness gushing out reverberated in ellie's ear.
oh my god, daddy can i? please? can i—
arching your back, you knew you were close. the feeling was getting to be too much and you were about to fall over the edge.
look at my baby, so respectful and asking permission. come on, pretty puppy. cum for daddy. let daddy hear how good she made you feel.
that was it. letting out a penetrating moan, you rode your orgasm out and finished all over your fingers, making a mess. you were heaving, chest rapidly rising and falling.
god, i made a mess.
oh, yeah? do one more thing for me. suck your fingers clean. puppies clean up their messes.
monday, 8:57pm → 3:01:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)
after your little self-care session with ellie, she took it upon herself to get your mind off of today's events, filling your conversation with stories and interesting topics.
oh, forgot to ask, what'd you end up getting on that biology quiz?
ughhh, i got a 65 out of 100. one of the reasons why i was so upset today.
seriously? how?
i don't know! i asked professor gonzalez and she told me that i was focusing on the wrong thi-
wait, did you just say professor gonzalez? holy shit, you're taking biology 201 with professor g? do you fucking go to school at university of wyoming? in jackson?
oh shit, you didn't mean for that to slip out.
i— uh— i have to go—
wait! sugar! please. hear me out.
you stay silent, waiting for what she had to say.
if we really do go to the same campus, please, let's meet up. i really want to see you.
.....why?
i just— i love talking to you. spending hours with you on the phone is what i look forward to when i get home. besides, i really want to take you out, on a date.
you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.
listen, if you want to see me too, meet me at the library in building B, by the comic book section. okay? tomorrow at 1pm.
....
i really hope you come.
the line clicks off, and you spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to see her tomorrow.
tuesday, 2:50pm
ellie eagerly checked her phone again, bouncing her knee in distress. her mind was running rampant — fuck, she's not gonna come. maybe jesse was right. maybe i was wasting my time.
looking up for the 80th time, she scans the comic book section, seeing no one else but some dude with his face buried in a wonder woman comic.
as ellie gets up from her chair, she turns her head, and she freezes.
there you were, looking like an angel who entered from the garden of eden. ellie's heart sped up, seeing her girl standing before her. you were everything she could've imagined and better.
walking slowly towards the brunette, you brush a piece of hair from your face, and smile meekly.
"hi ellie, it's me."
pls let me know how this fic was, i tried out a new writing style & read pt 2 here <3
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onelittlespiral · 7 months
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FML:Relax
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From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.
“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”
“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”
“You looking to top or bottom?”
I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”
A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.
“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”
Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,
“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”
Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.
He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”
Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.
I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.
“So, what have you got?”
“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.
“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.
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I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.
“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”
Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.
“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”
What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.
My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.
“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”
I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”
He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.
“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”
He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.
The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.
“First time here, bro?”
“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”
“Ye…yeah…yeah.”
“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”
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bbyjackie · 9 months
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𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!
relationship headcanons with one piece feat: luffy, zoro, kid, law
warnings: fluff
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(header by Loni)
𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁𝙔 has a constant need to be around you. he follows you around absentmindedly everywhere like a puppy, sometimes it can be a bit of a nuisance.
"y/n it was so funny! usopp's hand was just stuck in the pipe and he was screaming for like an hour 'til franky saw him!" luffy cackled, a gummy grin etched onto his features as you felt your finger grow numb by the second. "hm, i bet.." you let out a light hearted scoff, trying to pull your hand back. it felt like with each tug of your hand, instead of loosening the grasp luffy had, it only made his arm stretch further. "but luf, i need you to let go off my finger!" you groaned under your breath as you felt your back grow sore from the odd angle. you were shrimping with your spine feeling like it was bent to a full right angle just trying to pull away from the - sorry, your rubber boy as he made very clear. you couldn't see him but you could already envision his dopey smile turn into a massive pout. "ehh? why do i need to let go?" "because if you don't want me to become an usopp and start screaming you're gonna have to let go sweetie!" "i dont see why i have to.." "luf as much as i love you, i'm not taking a shit with your hand snaked through the door like that."
we all know 𝙕𝙊𝙍𝙊 has the worst sense of direction, but it always becomes comedy, especially when you're mid argument with him.
"stop being so dramatic!" zoro groans as his fist pounds against the wooden door of your bedroom. "come on out y/n!", he waited for a moment only to be met with silence. you had turned away from him mid workout after he told you that he doesn't need someone to smother him like an over obsessive mother. you must be pissed. not that it's your fault, he shouldn't have turned you away, you were just worried for him. letting go of his pride, zoro's hand loosens as he purses his lips and thinks for a moment, "hey, 'em sorry, i shouldn't have said that." again, there is just utter silence. feeling dejected, zoro turns his back just to see you with an amused smirk and hands crossed against your chest and usopp giving him the most massive side eye from around the corner of the hallway. "that's great and all that you apologised marimo," you giggled, usopp jumps in, "dude, that's the utility closet."
𝙆𝙄𝘿 is always in stage one: denial. every time anyone brings up the fact that he is utterly whipped for you, his face blows red and he gets soo mad. but the thing is, he secretly keeps small trinkets of yours just so he can feel closer to you.
kid was busy at work with a screwdriver in one hand and the other keeping this small steel mechanism as still as he could. his crimson red eyes staring down intensely at the work on his bench. every time he gets concentrated like this, you could almost see the vertex of his tongue poking through the corner of his red-stained lips. "kid!" you shouted, scampering around the room, as you finally landed behind him, hands secured on either side of his broad shoulders. "hah?" kid gruffed, head leaning backwards, hitting against your chest as he looked up from his desk, "what?" "have you seen my bracelet?" you pouted, tilting your head slightly to the side as you noticed from your peripheral that the arm that was not mechanical twitch slightly. "i can't find it.." kid immediately scoffs, turning his head back down to his work. "no how would i know where it is!" "hmm okay, just asking.." when kid finally leaves his workbench, killer glances at him from the side of the kitchen. "y/n was looking for their bracelet." "yeah i know." "did you find it?" "why the hell would i know where it is?" "so the silver bracelet with a pink bunny pendant on your wrist is 100% yours?" "shut up - yeah it is mine so what!" "okay sanrio girl calm down."
𝙇𝘼𝙒 has to remind himself that he loves you dearly. you're the first person to make him feel this way. so when you're absolutely eating it up in the middle of his study with ice spice blaring through the den den mushi, he tries his best to live laugh love.
"HE SAYS THAT I'M WHAT?!" you shout, hand gripping the makeshift pen mic up to penguin as law tries his best to concentrate on the med book he has in his hand. he swears to himself that next time he'll never let you in this room again. "GOOD ENOUGH, GRABBIN' MY DUH' DUH' DUH'" penguin answers, nodding along as bepo stands utterly in the corner with the den den mushi in his hands. "THINK 'BOUT SHIT THAT I SHOULDN'T HAVE!" before you can really show your shit, law immediately shambles you guys out of the room. "law, i'm sorry!!" you plead from outside his room as the boys stand awkwardly behind you, ice spice still playing yet way quieter than before from bepo's hands. "c'mon!!" law swears he loves you, but if he hears another t-that boy's a liar! that boy's a liar! he's going to rip his ears off.
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the-resident-vampire · 6 months
Text
guys my age. | l. kennedy
summary: "And it makes me wanna hold on and it makes me wanna be all yours."
pairing: leon s. kennedy x f!reader
disclaimer: this is not my normal content but this idea's been stuck in my head as I've been reading a spicy book called Praise by Sara Cate where the mc's ex boyfriend is trash and she becomes a secretary for the ex's dad and they have a whole relationship . so anyway, smut just purely smut, a praise kink, oral both m! and f! receiving as well as fingering, and like I said - this is just porn. ALSO READER IS WELL INTO HER TWENTIES LIKE 23-25.
minors fuck off.
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He was a temptation you couldn’t resist.
Now, were you a bad person? No, not really. Would some agree that maybe fucking your ex’s dad is probably not the way to deal with a bad breakup, oh most definitely. But if they were to meet Leon, surely, they’d understand. The man was blessed with all the beauty and the ability to age gracefully, he was perfect. Beyond perfect.
His lips on yours burned like sin but you were addicted to it, the two of you alone in his bedroom. He goes to lift your shirt over your head, piece by piece did the clothing disappear until you were standing naked before him. Parts of your brain, the more rational parts, screamed for you to pick yourself up and leave.
But you can’t tear yourself away, instead you dropped to your knees before him and he looks down with a small grin as you got to work on stroking his cock, his pink lips part to let out a groan - a sound you’ve committed to memory before you shut your eyes and took him past your lips, taking as much as you could.
He tasted good, which was still so strange to say.
He slowly rocks his hips into your face as he groans breathily, “Fuck, sweet girl, you’re so good at this.”
The praise made you feel on top of the world, especially when he called you that - pretty girl is one thing but sweet girl sent a whole different wave of butterflies through you. Hollowing out your cheeks as you suck him off, he reached down and made a fist in your hair, holding it as he continues to rock his hips.
“So fuckin’ eager,” Leon groans, he normally wasn’t this talkative but since he started hooking up with you, you’ve made him learn new things about himself as you were learning things about you, “shit, baby girl, you’re so perfect.”
And one of those things was that you loved hearing praise.
Opening your eyes as you look up at him through your lashes, the ways his cheeks are dusted pink and how pretty he looks when he parts his lips to let out a groan or how he bites down on his bottom lip. You ignore the fact spit was dribbling down your chin as you tried to meet his thrusts, your nose brushing into the patch of hair, you could do this allll day.
You whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth, and he chuckles lowly, “Next time, sweet girl, get on the bed.”
Almost too eagerly, you stood up and walked over to the king-sized bed, falling back on silky gray sheets as Leon walks over. No matter how many times you’ve gotten into this position with him, it still excited you. He was just so much better than anyone you’d been with before, and it made you rethink being with an older guy.
You shove the part that he’s your ex’s dad far from your mind.
His hands run up your thighs as he gazes almost lovingly at your naked body, he hums as he thinks exactly how he wants you before he speaks, “Think I want you on my face tonight, just for a little bit.”
You sit up, as you blushed hard, “Y-You sure? What if I hurt you or something?”
“Sweetheart, I can handle it,” Leon assured you, “besides if the worst happens, surely dying by being suffocated while eating your pussy isn’t the worst way to go.”
You rolled your eyes as he goes to move onto the bed, laying back and closer to the pillows, you straddle his chest before he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to his face with a yelp escaping your lips.
“Jesus,” You said in a giggle, “No fear about this at all?”
“Nope, I can breathe through my nose,” He says as he looks up at you, “Now sit, been dying to taste you all day.”
Almost too eagerly, he pulls you down and you moan as you feel his tongue against your folds before he moves up to your clit. It all felt so new and different, without even thinking, you were rocking your hips against his tongue as you chased the high of it all.
You set one hand on the headboard and the other ran through his hair as you rode his tongue while he devoured you, he had his hands on your ass. Squeezing tightly as he was drunk on the taste of your slick, and he thought to himself; they’re right that forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.
He’s committed the sounds of your moans, the tiny gasps, all to memory. He’s saved those audios you sent him, and he’ll listen but it’s never as good as the real thing. He normally doesn’t go for women younger than him but then came you -
When his son first brought you home, it was like a cruel joke - everything he would’ve wanted and he couldn’t have it. But he forced himself to just be the adult, and then - all his silent prayers were answered when you ended things with his son.
One night which was supposed to be the last time you’d ever step foot in his place and now here you two were, you were riding his face, his nose bumping against your clit as you were lost in the euphoria washing over you.
You cried out as you came against his tongue, Leon slowed his ministrations as you came down from the high, his lips and chin drenched in you. He waits before gently lifting you off his face, the two of you lay close to one another as you come down.
“Hey, sweet girl,” He says softly as he lifts your chin to make you look up at him, “What color is it.”
“Green.”
He smiles softly, “You sure?”
“Mhm, just need a second,” You said softly as he pulls you close to him, “that was more intense than any other time.”
He chuckles, “Take your time, baby, we have all night.”
“I know, I know,” You say as you take a deep breath and collect yourself - your body was still buzzing.
His fingertips against your skin felt like a burn in the best way possible as he traced the curves of your body, “You’re so perfect.”
“You think so?”
He smiles, “Of course.”
It was supposed to just be fucking - for you, maybe it was more of a revenge against your ex but for him, it was just a cure for loneliness but somehow along the way, it became way more than that.
His lips find yours as you shift to lay under him, he’s between your legs and he takes a moment as he grabs the base of his cock to rub against you to gather the slick before eases inside you, you lift your legs up to wrap around his waist as he snaps his hips and pushes all of him in.
You let out a low moan as you cling to his shoulders, nails digging in and close to breaking skin just from how large he was. He moved slow but deep, making sure you felt all of him.
He plucked noises out of you that your ex could never even imagine hearing. Soft moans and whimpers, music to his ears. Your favorite sound was his grunts and groans and the occasional moment he’ll swear.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He groans in your ear, his hips slapping against yours.
You couldn’t verbally reply, all you could do was moan in response. He chuckles as he goes to leave bites all over your neck as he fucks you, his pace picks up.
Maybe you were a bit in love with your ex’s dad, and that was okay because he loved you just the same. It didn’t need to be said, no grand moment of confession because the way he held you so close while he felt so deep inside, was enough of a reminder.
When you wake up tomorrow and remember those hickies, your heart will flutter when you remember where they came from or more so who they came from.
At some point the positions change, you’re riding him like you have a million times before, his hands grasping yours as you grind your hips, your gaze not leaving his. Letting him see the way your lips part as you mutter his name like prayer. You could hear the bed creak and you lost count for how long the two have you been going at it, there’s a strain in your legs but you don’t care.
You feel too good to care about anything else other than the man underneath you.
Guys your age were so vastly different from guys like Leon, they were sometimes so immature and sometimes so goddamn dumb when it came to things especially like pleasure, you felt lucky when it came to Leon, and he definitely felt the same.
In one way or another, you were never going back to any man your age again as long as Leon kept inviting you over like this.
You were so goddamn in love with him.
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sourcherryandsprinkles · 11 months
Note
Ethan is trying to do work and the reader distracts him which turns into more. Just Ethan being flustered and trying to focus while reader teases him. 🤗
I've done a version of this with Mindy
Warnings: nudity, teasing
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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‘’Did you see my green highlighter?’’
‘’No. I have a blue one, here.’’ You fished it from your pencil case, but Ethan didn’t take it.
‘’I can’t use blue.’’
‘’I have pink, yellow and orange if you prefer—’’
‘’No. That’s not what I meant. I have a color code. Green is for the things I understand, blue is for what I don’t understand and the glittery gel pen is for underlining things that I think are gonna be in the exams.’’
Fondness filled your stomach. He was so precious and nerdy at the same time. You reached across the bed to grab the collar of Ethan's henley and kissed him sweetly.
‘’Eh…what was that for?’’ Ethan asked, a little dumbfounded. ‘’I love your kisses, it’s just that we really need to study—’’
‘’You are such a nerd.’’ You kissed him again, lingering your lips on his. ‘’But I love you.’’
Ethan’s cheeks flushed the cutest shade of pink. ‘’I love you too.’’
You went back to studying, reading pages of textbooks until your eyes burned. Why was there so much to read in econ? Maybe you should switch majors?
‘’Have you read the chapter about taxation?’’ Ethan asked, a pen in one hand and a highlighter in the other. ‘’My mind is literally going to explode from the amount of information.’’ His eyes were fixated on his textbook, concentrated on what he was reading.
A breath of air left your lips. ‘’I have not. Sorry.’’ You ran a hand through your hair, flicking through pages with your other. ‘’I’m like…two chapters behind.’’
Ethan snapped his head up. ‘’Two?! What have you been doing all this time? Mrs. Coleman is gonna question us about these chapters next lesson.’’
He was right, but you had been studying for over three hours and nothing was sticking to your brain anymore. Your learning batteries were full for today. Maybe you’ll bring your textbook to your shift at the campus library tomorrow. Thursday afternoons are always quiet.
Before you, Ethan had returned to his reading, pen cap between his teeth while he was underlining long paragraphs. Sometimes, you wished he wasn’t so serious during study dates. School was important, but it doesn’t mean you can’t take a few makeout breaks.
You tried getting back to reading, but the words were not sticking. So you threw a paperclip at Ethan. It hit his chest and you grinned amusedly.
‘’Hey! Stop throwing shit at me,’’ he scolded, throwing it back at you.
‘’Let’s take a break.’’
Ethan shook his head. ‘’Can’t. I have another chapter to read and then I’m meeting with a study group.’’ He checked the time on his phone, making sure he wouldn’t be late.
A study group? You thought you were going out for late dinner at the café right outside campus. They have this new breakfast all day menu and you couldn’t wait to have waffles for dinner.
You pouted in disappointment. Guess there won’t be any waffles tonight…
‘’Can we at least cuddle before you go?’’ you asked, impatient to wrap your whole body around Ethan like a koala and kiss his face while he holds you back with his strong arms.
Your question was left pending and you were tempted to chuck a pillow at the curly haired nerd before you — but you didn’t. Instead, you took advantage of focused attention and removed your shirt and bra without him noticing. You felt a shiver up your spine when the cool air of Ethan's dorm hit your warm skin, causing your nipples to peak.
Ethan was addicted to your tits. Maybe he’ll put down his textbooks for a few minutes.
‘’This part is really important. Do you think we should make flashca—’’ Ethan cut himself and you heard him make a little noise, his bambi eyes falling on your breasts exposed right before him. The pen he was holding fell from his grasp and you smirked.
You felt the weight of Ethan’s eyes on you, all the information he just read suddenly swept away. ‘’What is it you were saying?’’ You let your hand crawl up his jeans-covered thighs and a swallow bobbed its way over his adam's apple when you almost reached his crotch. ‘’Cat’s got your tongue, love?’’
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but your hand was getting higher and higher. A whimper slipped from his lip when you reached your desired spot, feeling him growing stiff beneath your palm. It’s so good to tease him.
He reached for your breasts, his palms enclosed over them, kneading into them as his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.
You sighed in pleasure, grazing your fingers along Ethan’s jaw. ‘’How many chapter do you have left again?’’ 
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zepskies · 7 months
Note
Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like
Dean: Hey baby
Reader: She's busy
I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭
Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏
Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850
Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.
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Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.
They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.
Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.
Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?
A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.
Yeah, just getting a few things.
Dean rolled his eyes. Right.
For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?
Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.
Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.
Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lawrence, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.
He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.
But...you didn't answer when he called.
Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.
Hey, baby. You up?
He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...
She's busy.
Dean frowned. What the hell?
Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?
But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.
Stop messing around.
Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."
She'll call you back, dude.
Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.
What the fuck is this?
She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.
All right. WHO is this?
Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.
A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.
Then he responded.
Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.
Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.
"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.
"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.
"You make it too easy," you replied.
He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.
Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.
"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"
"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.
"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.
That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"
For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.
In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.
Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)
Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.
"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.
"When are you getting home?" you asked.
He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.
"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."
"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."
He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.
"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.
Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.
He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?
...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.
"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."
"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.
"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."
And she's about to get punished.
The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
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AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!
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