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summerssover · 15 days

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𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⊹ ִֶָ

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, in which you invite the boys over to sesh with you but nate can’t go a day without turning something into a competition

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, sub!reader x dom!nate x dom!chris x dom!matt, poc!reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, SMUT! oral sex (female receiving), overstimulation, foursome, fratboy!chris, asshole!nate, loverboy!matt, whoring

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓, 3.2k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙨!

rude chris makes me foam at the mouth like a fucking dog omggg give me 5 minutes with that man😭

i know im a little late but i didn’t want to give you guys half assed writing so i took my time enjoy lovesss

▐ ❝ 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 ❞

˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

little feet tapping sounded over the wooden floor from your constant scurrying around in your california penthouse. you made sure that everything was nice and put away before turning off your main light and switched to the colorful ambient lighting. the sun was just starting to set, casting a nice ray of gold where you would be lounging soon, now waiting for your new friends: matt, chris, and nate to arrive.

you were a freshman attending the university of southern california for business, a native utahan, fairly new to la and desperate for friends. nate had saw you walking around campus and in a couple of his classes but didn’t pay any mind to it, that is until he caught you hitting your pen outside of the lecture hall before class.

“yo, can i hit that?”

his thick accent took you by surprise, ‘he’s definitely from up north’ you thought to yourself. you analyzed his character before moving forward with the interaction. nate had nice even features, pretty blue eyes and thick brows, not entirely sure due to them being scrunched a little. he wore a black snap back and a bright grin as he waited for you to hopefully grant him permission.

“for sure”

a couple weeks later the two of you would make it a habit to get high by the small pond on campus, talking about your lives away and prior to college, you guys bonded well together. soon you were upgraded from a school friend to a friend, friend, progressing the two of you to go to dinner after late classes, study sessions, you’d even made out a few times although just brushed it off, blaming it on the cannabis.

it wasn’t till two weeks before today when you met some of his closest friends. they were triplets, which was a little strange but cool at the same time. the first hangout with you and your new friends went better than okay hence you’d been hanging out with them everyday up to this one.

your body jolted at the sudden banging at your door. you made a quick stop in your room sliding on your slippers. “i’m coming”

the banging, only got louder the longer you took causing you to hurry to the door. “oh my god, i’m coming” you shouted again and dragged out the ‘g’ in ‘coming’.

the door finally opened revealing three immature boys giggling at god knows what. rolling your eyes you leaned on the door frame, “i said i was coming” the boys giggled again, this time a lot harder.

nate was the first one to pull you into a hug with hands resting on your lower back. “yeah we heard”

you also let out a small giggle and mushed his head into your house. you moved on to greet matt and chris next, pulling both boys into a hug at once. you hooked each arm around their necks causing your cleavage to be present right in their faces. pulling away you were met with shit eating grins, “hey” they both said in unison.

you walked further in the house with chris behind you and matt following after locking the door. nate had already made himself at home, kicking off his shoes and already claimed his spot on the lovesac near the cracked window.

while you watched the boys get settled you noticed they were missing one. “wait where the fuck is nick?”

“he’ll be here a little later, he’s out with madi” matt informed.

“oh there won’t be shit left for him” you chuckled out as you walked to your room again, retrieving your box of weed and papers along with a few of your essentials, then going to sit between matt and nate then placing the box down in the middle of the small circle that’d formed. the boys looked at the baby pink box with stickers of hello kitty and hearts scattered on it and laughed. chris picked up the pink rolling papers decorated with strawberries and matt picked the pink grinder. nate shook his head while laughing at his friends holding your belongings in the air.

“if your gonna’ laugh at my shit y’all don’t have to smoke” you rolled your eyes and snatched the grinder from matt. their laughter started to died down and you began to break up the bud into the container.

“who’s gonna’ roll?” you asked, looking around for who would be kinda enough to do you the favor and to no surprise matt was the only one to volunteer.

“i got you” he reached for the grounded up weed in your hand until his was swatted away by nate’s

“she can roll it herself matt, she’s a big girl” nate smirked at you while you sent an ‘annoyed’ glare at him.

“you’re so strange nathan” nate held his hands up in defense. “we’re your guest”

“yeah, show us how it’s done” chris butted in, staring at you with darker eyes than normal.

one thing you’ve noticed about nate was once he was under the influence he would get really flirty and you’d have a feeling he was already. chris didn’t really have an explanation, he was just naturally a horny person, in fact the first thing he said to you was a dirty joke when you met.

you began to roll the first blunt while six pairs of eyes were fixed on you making butterflies stir in your stomach, being careful not to mess up in front of them. it was one thing to have people stare at you while you tried to concentrate on something but you couldn’t go a minute without locking with a pair of blue orbs, each of them filled with hunger. you were now at the step where you brought the blunt up to your glossed lips, slowly licking a strip of the paper then folding and sealing it.

you heard a shuffle to the right of you, making you look to matt and notice that he had an pillow over his lap. you only chuckled and went back to sparking the freshly rolled joint then taking a long drag and passing it off to nate.

“took you long enough” chris teased you while it was nate’s turn to take a hit from the joint. you blew your smoke directly in chris’ face. “maybe you should’ve done it then”

“watching you lick all over the wood was worth the wait” chris laughed out as the rest of the boys joined in again, causing you to smack your teeth. “nate, skip him”

the rotation carried on for about four more blunts. your living room was fogged up and the sun was fully at rest and replaced with millions of tiny stars and everyone was for sure feeling it. chris and nate would not stop talking about the most random shit, literally just pulling things to say out of their asses while you and matt were on the chiller side but still engaging in conversation with your head laying on the pillow still in matt’s lap and your legs over nate’s who’d gotten a little jealous at how comfortably you lounged on matt.

you began tuning out the chatter and thought about this moment in your life. you’d never imagined yourself in la, surrounded by gorgeous men, drugs and good music, you felt like this wasn’t real life, like this was a dream and you’re enjoying every part of it.

“y/n, out of all of us who would you fuck?” nate dropped his hand to your leg that sat on his lap and gently rubbed it. matt’s fingers that’d been fidgeting in your curls fell as you lifted your head up to look at nate, his question catching you way off guard.

“woah what, did i miss something?”

“just answer the question, it’s me right?” chris crossed his arms and manspread in the second lovesac across from the couch you and matt were on.

“bro y/n/n would fuck me in a heart beat, tell em’” nate shook your legs a little.

“nate, your like three feet tall, she doesn’t want to fuck you i promise” you, matt, and chris cackled at nate’s offense to matt’s comment.

“doesn’t matter, what i’m lacking in height, i’m packing in length, can you say the same?” nate shot back at matt.

“not gone’ lie i would respectfully fuck all of you” there was a quick pause, shocking the boys (not really), hell shocking yourself, but everyone was having fun and getting really touchy so you thought ‘why not throw it out there’.

“bet i could make you cum the fastest though” nate wore a cocky grin and his hand on your thigh rose higher and higher.

“no fucking shot” chris argued.

“nah you gotta specify, there’s lots of ways you could get her to cum” matt added.

“if im fucking her i’ll give it maybe eight minutes, six if i’m raw doggin’ it” the boys debated like you weren’t even there, discussing all the ways they would make you cum and at what speed. you shifted in your spot and squeeze legs together at the heat pooling between them.

“i could definitely have her squirting by just sucking on her clit in four” they used such vulgar language and talked about such intimate acts like a group project. you were in complete heat, needing someone now, anyone.

“you good over there y/n/n?” chris asked you with a similar smirk to nate’s. he looked so good right now, all of them did.

“yeah, i’m fine”

“you think you can help us settle this, beautiful?” nate finished chris’ thought. the sexual tension in the room was now very high and everyone seemed eager for your response. thinking about this logically you knew that the boys were pretty good people and they weren’t the type of guys to record or do anything without your consent, you hoped.

“fuck it”

matt’s eyes looked as if they could pop out of his head. “are you serious right now? there’s no pressure or anything”

“matt shut the fuck up, she gave us her answer” chris jumped up after ashing the blunt and setting it aside.

“perfect” nate push your legs off of his lap and stood in front of you while you got up from your spot as well. nate started by pulling your shorts down and spreading your legs. “keep ‘em’ just like that for me” he whisper to you then took a step back

“damn, yo come look, she’s fuckin’ soaked” nate waves matt and chris over to get a good look at your dripping cunt while you could do nothing but giggle at the feeling of your head spinning, still violently high.

“oh shit, no panties either? good girl” chris looked up at you through his lashes then back to your heat and slid his fingers around your pussy, gathering all your juices and spreading it around your bundle of nerves, earning some whimpers in the process and you clench around nothing, already missing his touch.

“aw, she’s so needy” matt mumbled as he lifted your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra. you were now completely exposed in front of the window that overlooked the city and your chest heaved at the torture of them making you wait.

“wait we need a blind fold or something, i’ll be back” matt disappeared into your room for what felt like a lifetime after coming back with the satin scarf you used to protect your hair at night. he gently covered your eyes with the scarf and tied it behind your head.

“that too tight for you?” you mumbled a quick no and prayed that’d would be your last question before one of them would make a move.

“ready?” you didn’t know who that came from but you were so fed up by now that you didn’t even care. “yes, please”

with no warning you felt a tongue meet your core and repeatedly flick your clit, bringing soft moans out of you in an instant and your hands clinging to their hair.

cold hands were brought to either side of your lips, spreading them open, allowing room for his tongue to devour your walls while you could also feel hands groping and messaging on your tits and kisses on your neck, being hit with so much pleasure at once.

the point of their nose bumped against you while his tongue lapped up your slick and applied more pressure. you threw your head back and your legs started to tremble as you whined through your pleasure.

“time, time” you heard chris say before who had to be nate’s tongue pulling away from you. you remember that matt wore rings today, definitely looking forward to that.

“look bro, what’d i tell you” the three boys watched as you squirmed, whined, and clenched at the unwanted emptiness. a thick stream of cum began to pour out of you and you flinched at nate’s fingers stretching your folds back out, showcasing your pink pussy.

“so fucking pretty, good job baby” nate placed one last kiss to you core. you heard him shuffle from his knees and be replaced with a new pair. you had a feeling it was chris’ turn once a thumb messaged your clit and a tongue plunged beep in your core. your arm flung to the back of the couch as you squealed from just coming down from your orgasm.

“ughh, fuck” your words slurred out, stroking chris’ ego. he removes his thumb from your clit and stretched his arm to your chest, toying with your right nipple while another hand toyed with your left one. your breath got caught in your throat causing you to choke out a series of moans as chris slurped up your arousal.

chris’ mouth detached from you, “she came, gimme that” he hurriedly spat out to matt and nate, leading him to pause the timer.

“shit, three minutes” nate and chris laughed as they dapped each other up then did the same with matt. “not yet tho, matt about to go”

“you just told her, fucking idiot” chris chuckled as mat began to crouch between your legs.

“no i can’t do it” you whined and squeezed your legs shut. “s’ too much”

nate huffed and brushed the stray curls on your forehead back. “yes you can baby, you got it”

“i don’t have to, if you can’t handle it, okay sweetheart” matt comforts your strained leg muscles by pulling them back to the ground and rubbing your knee, still shaking from your pervious releases.

“matt she’s fine, go ahead” nate waved you off once he decided you had enough time to rest.

“i’m not touching her if she’s doesn’t want me to”

chris dramatically huffed at the stand still they were in. “bro, common, you want to be the only one to not make her cum, like a little bitch? that’s fucking embarrassing matt”

“shut the fuck” nate raised his tone, not wanting the brothers to start an argument while your bare ass was out. “she never said that” nate turned back to you as you’re just now catching your breath. “you still want matt too don’t cha’ sweetheart?” the words rolled off of his tongue so smoothly and it was like his voice scratched your brain so nicely and who were you to be the buzzkill, you’d all probably just laugh about it in the future anyways.

“mhm”

“you can do a little better than that mama” chris whispered and kissed behind your right ear while nate did the same on the other. their actions alone made you wet all over again and matt’s gaze sent tingles to your heat.

“matt, please i need you so bad”

“yea that’s what we like to hear, now you wanna’ show matt that pretty pussy of yours” nate pried a hand between the gap of your thighs and you allowed him to do so. your mind was so clouded that nothing mattered anymore, you wanted them to use you however they wanted and for as long as they wanted.

“hold her leg chris”

a small smile formed at your lips once matt enclosed his soft lips around your bud and sucked gently before he added two fingers in your hole, making you gasp from the ice-like cold of the rings.

“mmh” you vocally moaned moving your hands up to grab the boys heads on either side of you as matt left nasty open mouthed kisses on your cunt. the cold metal against your pussy and your legs being restrained brought to your attention that the boys were revealing kinks you’ve never cared to explored before.

matt pulled his fingers from you and replaced them with his mouth, making obsessive slurping sounds and lapping his tongue occasionally as you poured out into him. “fuck matt right there, yes”

both arms unhooked from nate and chris’ heads to hold matt’s down, scared of the euphoric feeling leaving you at any moment now. matt had gained some confidence, getting faster and sloppier, you offering pornogrphic moans to fill the boys ears. you gasped once more at the sudden hand rubbing circles on your clit, chris, followed by a mouth sucking on your tits again, which had to be nate, you’d peeped him staring at them all night. your back arched off the couch and your painted toes curled up in the air as you let out another overstimulated squeal, your high hitting you hard are and your cum dripping down matts throat and chin.

nate and chris unrestrained you, granting you the vision you wish so badly to have during the acts. matt remained kneeled between your legs and everyone seemed to take a moment of silence to really grasp the reality of what just happened.

“that was so fuckin’ sexy y/n/n” nate complimented, creating an domino effect of the three boys praising you while scattering to find your clothes and get towels for the cleanup. you were back to being a giggling mess with flushed cheeks.

chris went to wipe you off. “so who eats pussy the best?”

you stopped to think and you honestly couldn’t choose. everything was a blur, you just sat there and enjoyed the solid they did for you, all for the fun of it. “all of you were amazing”

“bullshit” nate came back with some snacks and water bottles for all of you then grabbing the remote from the coffee table.

“im being so serious, i felt like i was in heaven the whole time” giggled before looking at the boys who surrounded your couch with you in the middle. “matt did get the best reaction though”

matt raised both hands up in victory with a mouth full of water.

“he went over five minutes that’s not fair, i want a rematch” chris refused like a child. you four cuddled up in a blanket as each of you drifted off the sleep to pirates of the caribbean playing in that back ground and highs coming down.

“was nick ever coming?” you looked to your left seeing chris and matt passed out, then to the right, nate also being passed out.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!- @worldlxvlys @ariieeesworld @muwapsturniolo @esioleren @sturn59 @junnniiieee07 @iluvmattyb @kriissy4gov @patscorner @imsosillygoofylol @sturncakez @sturnzsblog @mattslolita

#chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #black writers #nathan doe x reader #chris sturniolo x black reader #summersover #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #x black reader #nathan doe #sturniolo smut

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amentomensmut · 3 months

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first time for everything pt2

Drug Dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 5k

this is part 2 to my fic first time for everything! read the first part here.

Summary: After an unforgettable hookup with your friend Sara’s drug dealer, Mike Schmidt, you go to a college party to try and put a stop to your constant stream of thoughts about it, and more specifically, him. However, when you wind up bumping into the man you had been thinking about non-stop at the party, you can’t help but give in to the one person who started it all.

Warnings: 18+ content, so much banter. Like, so much. Mike is a smug bastard, alcohol consumption, swearing, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, unprotected sex

Note: we are so back. also i really hope you guys like this omg. (p.s. sorry that this part has no cannabis use in it. I know that’s like kinda the whole point, but with the story i wanted to tell i couldn’t find a place to put it and i didn’t just want to shove it in randomly so i sorta just left it out.)

Like smoke filling up your lungs, Mike Schmidt has infiltrated your mind in every way possible.

Thoughts of him invading every corner and crevice of your brain, making them impossible to shake. To say the least, ever since you had the pleasure of meeting him, your mind has been rather occupied.

His lips on yours, the smoke from his mouth permeating your own, his hands on your body, your skin on his skin—it's all too much, you think. In fact, if you could go back and erase the entire interaction, you would. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to think about, and it’s all Mike Schmidt’s fault.

You wonder if he thinks about you too. You know it’s probably unlikely, but you can’t help but feel like he might. Like he also dreams about it. Like he also yearns for you again. Maybe he gets off thinking about it, like you do. You shake those thoughts away, however, when you come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to you.

"Okay, Y/n, what the fuck?” Sara's voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you.

You whip your head around to see Sara standing behind you. Her arms are crossed against her chest, and her face is painted with a worried expression.

“What?” you respond, confusion evident in your voice.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for 20 minutes.” Sara says it with an accusatory tone, like she caught you doing something you shouldn’t be.

“I’m just thinking.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. I mean, you’re not lying. You were trying to do your homework, and then you started…daydreaming. Thinking. Whatever you want to call it.

“Yeah, I know. Thinking is all you’ve been doing this week. What’s going on?” Sara sighs, and you can see the genuine concern in her face. She sits on your bed next to your desk, trying to meet your eyes. You have a hard time lying to her, and catching her gaze will only make you more vulnerable, so instead, you choose to stare down at your homework.

“This isn’t like you. You’re the most studious person I know, and you can’t even focus enough to finish a couple questions. Tell me what’s going on.” She continues. You weigh your options. You could tell her you fucked her drug dealer. She couldn’t be that mad, right? Or, you could keep it a secret, but continuing to lie to her is the last thing you want to do. You let out a deep breath and just decide to bite the bullet.

“Okay, um, remember when I went to your drug dealer's house last week?” You wearily start. Sara nods her head, signalling for you to continue.

“Well, one thing led to another, and we kinda, sorta had…sex?” The room is silent after your confession, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When you look over at Sara, you expect to see disappointment or anger on her face, but instead, she's looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen.

“I knew it!” Sara exclaims, jumping up in a rush of excitement.

“I knew there was a reason that you were practically glowing when you got back from his house!” You groan at her loudness, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment. You should’ve known she wouldn’t have been upset with you; she practically shoves you at any man who gives you some sort of attention in the hopes that you’ll break your introverted habits. “Wait,” she excitedly adds. “Does this mean you can get me a discount?”

“No, Sara, I can’t fucking get you a discount. I haven’t seen him since it happened.” You say, and you try your best to mask the disappointment in your tone. I mean, what did you expect? That he’d come running to you the next day, get down on one knee, and propose? You knew it would most likely be a one time thing, so why were you so upset about it?

“So that’s why you’ve been so out of it this week. Plagued by the thoughts of a good fuck. Trust me, I've been there. ” Sara sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she knows this feeling all too well.

“I don’t know... as cheesy as it sounds, I sort of can’t stop thinking about him? It was so good, and now it’s all I think about.” You admit, and Sara takes her place back on the end of your bed. She takes one of your hands in hers, and she nods her head in an understanding manner.

“You know what you need?” She says, and you shake your head, "No.".

“To get your head out of your chemistry books and go to a goddam party! No wonder you’ve been thinking about him; all you’ve been doing is thinking.” She says, motioning to the copious amounts of school-related papers on your desk.

“Trust me, Y/n. The best sort of remedy for this kind of thing is to just let loose and forget about all your shit for a little while, you know?” As much as you’ve tried to avoid parties and distractions during your college experience, you can’t imagine there’d be much harm in going to one party. Besides, if you can get your mind off of Mike for a few hours and just have some fun, it’ll be worth it.

“Alright. Yeah, I think you’re right.” You say, and Sara jumps up excitedly as she begins to talk about one of her good friends that is throwing a party that night, and that it’ll be the perfect excuse to get away from all stress of exams. You nod along, a smile plastered on your face as you try to match Saras excitement. You’re not quite sure if this “remedy” will work or not; however, you’d just about try anything at this point. And like Sara always says, you’re a hermit, so this will be a good way to break you out of your shell. I mean, the last time Sara told you to do something, it ended up going better than expected, so what’s the worst that could happen?

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

“Sara, I feel like I’m going to flash someone.” You say as you pull on the hem of your very mini skirt. The walk to the party wasn’t long, but your bare legs are cold and you’re itching to get warm. You’ve never really worn something as revealing as this, but Sara insisted you wear something from her wardrobe.

“Your skirt isn’t that short; don’t be dramatic.” Sara teases as she leads you towards a house that's booming with both music and people. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You haven’t been to a party during your time at college, and to be honest, you weren’t ever planning to. Focusing on getting your degree without any distractions was always your goal. An unrealistic goal? Maybe, but it had been working well for you up until a week ago. However, things don’t always go as planned, and now you’re stepping into a house full of sweaty, inebriated bodies and music so loud it makes the entire house shake. The air is thick and humid, and you’d get lost in the house’s dim lighting if it weren’t for Sara’s hand in yours guiding you through the sea of bodies. Your shoes stick to the floor as you walk through the house, and you know alcohol drunkenly spilled from overflowing, cheap solo cups is the culprit. Sara drags you to the kitchen, where all the alcohol is stashed.

“We should do a shot! To commemorate the first party of your college career!” Sara yells over the music, already pouring each of you a shot of tequila. You give a little laugh at Sara’s enthusiasm, and you nod your head in agreement. As you wait for Sara to hand you your drink, you notice just how many people there are. You watch through the kitchen window as someone throws up on the lawn. You wince a little at the sight and at the thought of how much alcohol they probably drank. You briefly wonder if going to this party was even a good idea, but you try to shake away any negative thoughts.

“Babe, you’re thinking too much again.” Sara says, waving her hand in front of your face as she passes you the shot.

“Sorry!” You half-yell, but Sara dismisses your apology with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, just have fun!” Sara replies as she effortlessly downs her shot. You also attempt down your tequila; however, it’s not as effortless, and you grimace at the sharp taste of the tequila on your tongue. It takes everything in you to swallow it without gagging, and you wish you had something to chase it with.

“Fuck, that’s awful.” You groan as you pull a face. You don’t typically drink alcohol, and when you do, tequila is certainly not your first choice. Sara laughs and places a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s what makes it good!”

The next hour or so goes by pretty smoothly. You’ve essentially been following Sara around like a lost puppy, accompanying her as she greets her friends, which feels like just about everyone at this party. You watch as Sara effortlessly navigates the room, her laughter ringing out above the chatter and deafening music. As you stand alongside Sara, watching as she converses with a group of people you recognise as being on the school's soccer team, you feel a wave of insecurity wash over you, like an invisible barrier separating you from everyone else. You feel out of place at this party, and in a way you are. You haven’t been to a party in your three years at school, and now you've realised that you barely know anyone around here. You haven’t seen one familiar face, other than Sara, in the past hour and a half since you arrived here. You begin to wonder how different your college experience would be if you just got over your fear of people and parties, and went out like Sara had. You try to dismiss your destructive thoughts, but it’s no use. You feel like somehow everyone knows that you’re not really supposed to be here, and it makes your throat feel dry with anxiety.

“Hey, Sara, I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” You loudly whisper in her ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was currently in. You’re anxiously wanting to get away from the crowd, and your body language shamelessly shows it as you bounce your leg and bite the skin off your lips.

“No, I’m okay,” Sara says, and you watch as her eyes survey your body, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you need me to come with you?” She bends down to speak in your ear, although her words are slightly slurred, and you softly giggle at the way her alcohol intake has affected her speech.

“No, I’ll be okay.” You assure her as you walk away from the group, giving Sara a little wave as you make your way to the kitchen.

You had intended on getting a drink, but when you got to the kitchen and saw the door to the backyard, your desire to escape the muggy, stale air landed you on the back patio instead. Your lungs thank you for the fresh air as soon as you step outside, and the cool winter breeze feels refreshing on your sweaty skin. There’s still plenty of partygoers outside, but it’s certainly not as packed as it was inside. You watch as people play beer pong on a ping pong table on the lawn, and the sight only solidifies your fear of missing out. The sound of hearty laughter and the smell of weed only make you want to go home more, and you sigh as you push off the patio railing to leave. You turn around to make your way back inside when you see him.

At first, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks on you. Like you had been thinking about him so much that an apparition of him was here to taunt you. Like your thoughts of him for the past week had now turned you delusional. However, his eyes lock with yours, and now you so badly want it to be a hallucination, or your mind playing tricks on you. Dread washes over you and you wish you had never come to this party. You want the ground to swallow you whole when you see him beginning to walk towards you, and for a split second, you consider running away.

You mean for your words to come out nicely; you truly do. However, they don’t come out that way, and instead you say this:

“What the fuck are you doing here?” If your words shock or hurt Mike, he doesn’t show it as he now stands in front of you with that goddamn smirk on his face.

“I have a business to run, Y/n. But you’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” You’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap him, but you roll your eyes anyway at his smug tone. He gives an unbothered laugh at your attitude and actually, you’d definitely rather slap him right now.

“Your business is selling weed to intoxicated college students?” You retort with a scoff, crossing your arms against your chest like it’s a defence mechanism. You hate that his presence is making you jittery, but you hold your ground, your eyes never veering away from his.

“Funnily enough, they’re my top customers.” Mike smugly says, and you don’t even try to hide the scowl on your face. You squint your eyes at him, trying to read his intentions. He smells like weed and spicy cologne, and it immediately brings you back to his house, and more specifically, his living room. There's a pregnant pause between the two of you, and before you can work up the courage to say something, he speaks again.

“Cute outfit, by the way. Have you dropped the innocent act yet?” He asks, obviously satisfied with his words. He's clearly trying to get under your skin, and you won't let him.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You fib, shrugging your shoulders like the question is irrelevant. If he's going to try to tease you about your hookup, you won't feed into it.

“You know, after that night, I don’t think you can really call yourself a good girl. You’d be lying to everyone. You're lying to me right now.”

“Fuck you, Mike.”

“You should come by my house tomorrow. You're probably all out of the weed I sold to you last time you were around, right?” He says nonchalantly, changing the subject. You furrow your eyebrows at the change of conversation, and your stubbornness to let Mike have any satisfaction during this conversation doesn’t falter.

“I don't smoke weed.” You quip.

“Lie all you’d like, Y/n. It doesn’t change the truth.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face before walking back into the house without giving you another look.

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

Usually people use the phrase “walk of shame” when you’re walking home from a hookup, however, that phrase pretty much sums up how you feel as you walk up Mike Schmidt's driveway.

You’re not sure how you’ve ended up back on Mike Schmidtd’s doorstep again. Maybe it was the satisfying sting of weed going down your throat and into your lungs, or the insatiable hunger for the man who supplied it to you. Either way, the front door is being opened and the man who you’ve been thinking about non stop for the past week is behind it.

“Had a feeling you’d be back.” He says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re high before any weed has even entered your system.

“Don’t cream your pants.” You mutter as you push past him and walk inside. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know why you were here, you both knew. After Mike left you at the party, you knew you were completely and utterly fucked. That any other attempts of trying to forget him would be worthless. That like a bee to a flower, you’d be back here, in Mike’s house, searching for the one thing you had been denying yourself for the past week.

“So I was right then, you’re all out of weed.” He says as he closes the front door. You take your jacket and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hanger at the door. You face Mike, who's currently leaning against the front door, watching you.

“Can I have a soda?” You ask, and Mike cracks a smile at the familiarity of the situation.

“I would’ve offered, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here.” He says, trying to bite back his smile. You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he grabs two cans of soda. Your fingers brush as he hands you the cold can, and you look up at him as he clears his throat.

“So…an eighth again?” He inquires, looking at you over his can of soda as he takes a sip.

“Mike, I’m not here for your goddamn weed.” You laugh. Mike laughs as well, and the exuberant sound is like music to your ears.

“So you came for my soda instead?” Mike teases, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I think you know why I’m here.” You say, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened last time you were in his house. Your fingers tighten around the soda can at the thought of touching Mike again, and you so badly want to reach out for him.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. You weren’t very nice to me last night at the party.” He smirks, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. He places his soda can on the kitchen counter and tilts his head at you, waiting for your rebuttal.

“I was nice enough.” You simper, shrugging your shoulders. If he’s going to make you work for it, you’ll play along.

“Say please. I can’t believe I have to teach you how to use your manners.” He coos, and you huff when you realise you won’t get what you want right away.

“I'm very polite.” You stubbornly stand your ground, but you can feel your resolve weakening with every word that comes out of Mike's mouth.

“You might be polite, but apparently you forgot how to ask for things.”

“Please, Mike.”

His lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. All the build up from the past week, all the sexual tension between you and Mike is released into the kiss. The kiss is frantic and needy, like even being this close isn’t enough. His want for you shows in the way his rough hands grab any part of your body they can reach. You blindly slide your soda can on the kitchen counter before threading your fingers through his hair, softly pulling at the root making him moan into your mouth. He tastes like cream soda and weed and his hands caressing your body send a shiver up your spine, and you haven’t felt this way since the last time he touched you.

“You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you.” He says in a gruff voice as he walks you backwards and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. You spread your legs so he can slot himself between them, and he presses soft kisses into your neck. His hands are on your waist, stabilising you as he kneads the soft skin there.

“I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” You shyly admit, and he softly bites your neck, almost scolding you for your words.

“Are you serious?” He asks incredulously, removing his head from your neck to look at you. His heavy lidded gaze makes you feel nervous, and his reaction makes you feel like you said something you shouldn’t have. Your silence serves as an answer to his question and he shakes his head at you disapprovingly as he slowly gets on his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You suck in a quick breath at the sight of Mike in between your legs, and an involuntary whine escapes from your lips when he begins to undo the button of your pants.

“Y/n, the only thing i’ve been able to think about is you.” He groans, and you lift your hips off the counter to help Mike as he pulls your pants down over your ass. Your pants hit the floor and Mike is pressing open mouthed kisses into the insides of your plush thighs. He takes his time, kissing and sucking on the expanse of your thighs, and you think you might go crazy if he continues to tease you. Your thighs slightly close around Mike’s head, looking for any friction you can get. Mike lets out a laugh and you throw your head back in frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you’d like?” Mike innocently asks, looking up at you as his mouth gets dangerously close to your pantie clad pussy. A sadistic smile paints his face and you put your hands in Mike's hair, trying to pull him closer to the place you need him the most.

“Mike, stop fucking teasing.” You pant, and a dissatisfied sigh leaves Mike's lips.

“I thought we talked about using your manners.” He mocks, and although he's the one on his knees in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s certainly still in control.

“Please, Mike. Please, I need you.” You beg, and not long after, Mike is licking a hot stripe up your covered cunt. You bite your bottom lip, your chest heaving as Mike continues to press messy, open mouthed kisses to the wet spot on your panties. His grip on your thighs is strong, and the feeling of his blunt nails digging into the soft skin makes your head spin. Soon enough, his thick fingers are hooking into your underwear and pulling it down your legs. He wastes no time, quickly latching his lips to your swollen clit and making out with your pussy like a man starved. Your jaw drops in pleasure, and your hand tugging at his hair makes him moan into you.

“Mike, h-holy shit.” You cry out, as he enters one of his long fingers into you. His tongue swirls around your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, and the sounds of him eating your pussy are absolutely sinful. Mike replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he slowly enters another finger into you.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters, and his eyes are glued on your soaked cunt and the way it sucks his fingers in. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that makes you jerk your hips upward.

“M-Mike, I’m gonna-” You start, but cut yourself off with a moan as Mike reattaches hip lips to your clit. With his fingers rapidly moving in and out of you, and his mouth doing god's work on your clit, you swear you’re starting to hear colours. Your thighs begin to shake as you start to grind yourself on Mike's face as you near your orgasm. You let out a loud moan as you finally release, the only thing you can feel is the pure pleasure surging through your body as you cum, and Mike coaxing you through it. Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your high. Mike removes his fingers and mouth from your pussy, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he stands back up in front of you.

“Open your mouth.” He softly demands, and you do, letting Mike shove his cum covered fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the digits, humming as he lets his fingers travel to the back of your throat, making you gag. “That's it.” He praises, caressing your cheek as you suck his fingers. He removes his hand from your mouth and places them on your hips, helping you off the counter. He turns you around so you’re facing away from him, and he presses a hand to the centre of your back, bending you over the counter. He presses himself into you, and pushes your ass back against his covered erection. Mike leans over you, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you up against his chest as he brings his lips to your ear.

“How could I forget about you when you look like a fucking angel when you cum.” He confesses in your ear, bucking his hips against you as he releases you, letting you fall back over the counter. The sound of him undoing his belt and pants makes you involuntarily clench your legs together, and you turn your head, watching as Mike spits in his hand and strokes himself a couple times before lining himself up with your pussy.

“Have you been thinking about this?” Mike taunts, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit.

“You have no idea.” You whine, pushing your hips back in an attempt to just get Mike to fuck you. However, Mike holds your hips steady, restraining you from grinding back on him.

“Enlighten me, then.” Mike responds, like he has all the time in the world. But to you, it feels like the end of the world with the way your pussy is throbbing and in need of stimulation. A defeated sob leaves your lips at Mike’s teasing,

“All the fucking time, Mike. I felt like I was going crazy.” You babble, and your words seem to be good enough for Mike, because he’s filling you up with his thick cock. All your thoughts, any worries you’ve had over the past week are gone. The only thing you can focus on is the way he fits perfectly inside you, and the way the grunts and groans leaving his lips sound like perfect melodies to your ears. His hips snap into yours roughly, and you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I couldn’t get high without thinking about you. You fucking ruined weed for me.” Mike admits with a laugh, like the whole thing is preposterous. His fingers work quick circles on your clit and you shiver as Mike places a hand under your jaw, lifting you so he can press kisses into your neck.

“Good. Maybe you’ll smoke it less. It’s bad for your lungs.” You breathily tease, and Mike sucks a particularly dark spot into your neck in response to your words. Mike continues his rough pace, and you clench hard around him.

“Gonna cum.” You whine and Mike only continues to fuck you, wanting to get you there. You cum for the second time, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation hits you. Mike holds your shaky body up as he cums inside of you, letting out a strained “fuck” as his own orgasm washes over him. You both stand there afterwards, catching your breath as Mike release slowly begins to leak out of you and down your thighs.

“Did I seriously ruin weed for you?” You hoarsely ask in a disbelieving voice. You feel Mike’s chest rumble as he laughs, and actually, you think his laugh is the most perfect sounding melody.

“Trust me, It’s embarrassing to admit.” He says, and you let out a quick breath as he pulls out of you. He grabs a cloth out of a kitchen drawer and runs it under warm water in the sink before cleaning up the cum between your legs. He tucks himself back into his boxers before pulling his pants up, and you follow suit.

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You jest as you button your pants.

“Maybe.” Mike says with a smile, and when you look at him, you think you wouldn’t even need weed to get high. You’d just need this feeling.

taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art, @spenciesprincess, @janitorhutcherson, @leahdhopkins4321, @pickingchoosinglovinghope, @esebabe, @under-sedationnn, @celestbarnes, @brechdan-ham, @souldzaboj, @t0byisher3, @rottingpeache, @joshs-big-toe, @p3talll

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #smut #fnafmovie #fnaf

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whatsnewalycat · 4 months

Text

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure.

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact.

So it begins.

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office.

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?”

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.”

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?”

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.”

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.”

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.”

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat.

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.”

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her.

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings.

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor.

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface.

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?”

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?”

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers.

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.”

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you.

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that.

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant.

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it.

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm.

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray.

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait.

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer.

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open.

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him.

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?”

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort.

So fucking professional.

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.”

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.”

“I can smell.”

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional.

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression.

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.”

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door.

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do.

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning.

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor.

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy.

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again.

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest.

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything.

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy.

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford.

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided.

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh.

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes.

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?”

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?”

“What’re the options?”

“Chicken roulade or salmon.”

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder.

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?”

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.”

“Dining room or room service?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.”

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?”

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—”

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.”

“But still—”

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.”

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.”

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.”

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way.

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that.

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you.

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation.

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table.

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting.

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?”

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?”

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.”

“You could eat out here.”

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.”

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him.

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.”

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.”

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality.

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you.

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision.

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.”

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there.

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.”

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping.

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass.

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable.

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.”

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile.

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.”

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.”

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?”

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?”

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.”

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to.

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.”

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head.

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish.

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.”

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.”

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like.

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting.

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?”

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.”

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?”

“Help yourself.”

“Do you want one?”

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy.

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial?

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.”

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office.

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?”

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape.

“Right now?”

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question.

“Can I shovel first?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room.

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?”

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest.

What a fucking nightmare.

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?”

“The fan doesn’t work.”

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life.

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches.

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.”

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales.

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.”

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake.

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?”

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit.

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?”

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.”

“Whadda you mean?” you frown.

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie.

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?”

You nod.

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon.

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.”

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?”

“Because we’re snowed in.”

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.”

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter.

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—”

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.”

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?”

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat.

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.”

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?”

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?”

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?”

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?”

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?”

“Here is fine.”

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise.

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box.

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open.

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants.

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?”

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.”

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.”

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.”

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?”

“In pictures.”

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.”

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble.

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still.

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter.

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white.

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party.

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you.

“Hey, you alright?”

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling.

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern.

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire.

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.”

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him.

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.”

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.”

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.”

“Is that the shitty one?”

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.”

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.”

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.”

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable.

You have a big fat crush.

So fucking professional.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face.

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring.

Curiosity prods your heart.

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob.

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut.

Dusting it is.

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity.

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you.

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like:

He-doesn’t-like-you

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage.

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him.

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds.

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something.

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him?

Can’t get far enough away from you.

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock.

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die.

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock.

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible.

Well, he seems chipper.

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area.

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss.

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway.

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?”

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.”

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases.

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!”

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on.

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.”

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES.

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room.

“Want me to carry that?”

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested.

“No, I got it.”

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.”

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder.

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms.

“Were you painting?”

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet.

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.”

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table.

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside.

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames.

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?”

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing.

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.”

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs.

He doesn’t, though.

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment.

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.”

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?”

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter.

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?”

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor.

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone.

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?”

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.”

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.”

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?”

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?”

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?”

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.”

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.”

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.”

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down.

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?”

“Will you be joining me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease.

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?”

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.”

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?”

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?”

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room.

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?”

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him.

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation.

“Fuck it, why not?”

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?”

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.”

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?”

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.”

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters.

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.”

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other.

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair.

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.”

“To the possibilities.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad.

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more.

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.”

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Can I open another bottle?”

“Go for it.”

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway.

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark.

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself?

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room.

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table.

“Of course, sir.”

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?”

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.”

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable.

“Palm reading?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?”

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?”

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.”

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs.

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod.

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm.

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting.

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy.

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.”

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.”

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?”

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them.

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you.

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though.

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite.

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his.

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.”

You do.

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?”

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.”

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy.

But really, you know he’s right.

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life.

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face.

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.”

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?”

“But what if it’s right?”

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in.

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth.

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer.

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp.

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine.

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief.

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?”

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle.

“Underwear too?”

He nods.

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.”

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.”

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello.

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.”

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?”

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?”

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.”

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.”

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly.

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length.

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face.

“God yes, please, baby.”

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down.

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair.

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin.

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in.

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob.

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan.

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?”

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them.

“Hmm?”

“It’s dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.”

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.”

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?”

“Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head.

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing.

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?”

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you.

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life.

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen?

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut.

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful.

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions.

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his.

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.”

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe.

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?”

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.”

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving.

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?”

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?”

“What’re you freaking out about?”

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?”

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?”

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.”

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug.

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.”

“You do?”

“Cross my heart.”

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?”

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?”

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.”

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart.

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter.

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.”

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter.

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday.

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras.

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen.

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work.

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky.

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work.

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner.

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since.

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it.

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial.

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?”

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.”

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.”

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.”

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.”

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body.

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.”

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302.

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room.

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp.

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face.

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.”

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair.

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.”

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?”

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader

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chosovixen · 1 year

Text

NSFW!!

so are we not gonna talk about toji smoking a blunt while you ride him?

your hands are flat against his abdomen—feeling each and every muscle tense as you steadily bounce on his thick shaft, cock stretching your cunt so dearly. he has one large palm kneading at the tender flesh of your breast and the other holding a lit blunt between his calloused fingers.

as you struggle to ride him, he only smiles. he knows you’re getting tired, and he is no help at all—pursing his lips slightly, he takes another hit from the blunt and puffs the cannabis-laced smoke directly into your face.

“toji,” you whine—coughing slightly, hips starting to slow in the process, eyes half-lidded, and head going woozy. he clicks his tongue and squeezes to breast roughly—making you let out a small gasp.

“keep your pace, okay?”

“i can’t,” you counter, beginning to feel yourself fall forward. he sighs and reaches over to put the joint out, pressing the lit tip into the ashtray by the bedside. when it was all out, he turned his focus back to you—grabbing onto your hips with both hands and squeezing gently. toji then plants his feet flat on the bed, and you whimper at how his cock slides deeper into your sopping wet cunt.

“be good now and let me use your pretty cunt how i please.” he huskily whispers before fucking up into you at a demon-like pace.

#jjk smut #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu imagines #jjk x reader #chosovixen

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itoshi-s · 1 year

Note

Bllk boys ranking though NNN also i lost bc of ur fics

PLSSSS nonnie im so sorry i made u lose !!! 😭 m happy u enjoyed it so much tho ajfhalkf now let me brainrot over how needy the bllk boys would be during the month of november !

ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ɴɴɴ !

ft: rin, sae, bachira, isagi, ryusei, reo, nagi, aiku, chigiri, kunigami, kaiser, & barou !

cw: nsfw (minors -17 dni!), characters are 18+, fem reader, mentions of rough sex, the boys being switchy, edging, mutual masturbation, sex toys, cannabis !

12. rin - doesn't participate ! ─── yep :( as a rinnie stan myself i know it's disappointing LMAO but he just knows it's unhealthy 😭 and he takes care of himself and his body so much, there's no way. cannot be bothered to take part in such challenges anyway,, they were childish to him at 16 yet alone when he's older sfkfal also is so busy, he'd be a fool to let go of any chance to touch you !!

11. bachira - a day ! ─── no. 1 needy baby ! isn't completely against the idea, actually even tells you he might try it out once you mention it - but he truly forgets all about it as soon as he comes come several hours later .. and sees you looking soooo good. pounces on you within seconds <3 also has an impressive refractory period & stamina too ! can keep going for hours on end and stuff u so full.... it just doesn't end ! he cums for the first time so quick and loses the challenge embarrassingly early but he makes it up to you so well <3

more under the cut !

10. barou - three days ! ─── agrees to your pretty pleading eyes - you want the both of you to try it out so that once the month ends, all hell can break loose ! you know shoei so well, how rough he is on the daily - the thought of him going even further, all desperate and frustrated, makes you giddier than ever. it's of course such a dumb idea to him, but since you're asking him so nicely, he might as well agree..... yeah it only lasts the few days bc he's away on a game and just isn't there to see you and touch you :/ as soon as he's through the front door you can nearly scent the pheromones on him. fucks u into the mattress so hard you're scared of how rough he could be after a whole month !

9. nagi - five days ! ─── he's all about the slow and lazy loving and rarely ever initiates something himself ((you're more than happy to take control though bc just think...... blowing him under the desk while he's gaming???? yeah think bout it)) so you're not at all surprised when he mumbles something about taking part in a challenge the guys talked abt in the group chat . nagi can be a menace with how lazy he is sometimes so you have your toys in handy anyway akfjhsa BUT you honestly would've thought he could last longer ! he might not show his desperation all that often or openly but he definitely is needy <3 ruts into you in your sleep not even a week in. as you wake him and try to scold him playfully , he just pulls you closer with a groan . "'s a pain already," he huffs, "help me out?"

8. isagi - a week and a half ! ─── takes it as a joke at first but figures that it might be fun, actually, and tries it out in the end . he's got very good self control too so is curious how well it'll work when it comes to you and his needs !! it's going pretty smoothly considering how tight his practice schedule is before his next match, BUT it all goes down the drain after said game .. comes back absolutely pumped and high on the goals he scored , on the way he absolutely devoured the other team and controlled the whole field - there's no other way to unwind than to take it out on u <3 it's the only way he knows ! is so loud once he finally takes u & makes u praise him so much ! loves to hear he's your best boy n how good he is to u <3 praise kink yoichi goes brr (yes i am still thinking about the thirst moshi ((@/saetoshis)) did !! its canon i confirm)

7. kunigami - two weeks ! ─── he wasn't rly going to take part when he first read about it in the gc but once he mentions it to you and it turns out you're actually excited abt the thought .. he just might take it up akfhf doesn't actually find it all that difficult and only ever realizes that actually you might be the one taking the hit when you openly start begging for him :( comes home to find u on the bed, teary eyed and overstimulated bc it's just been so long , and masturbation isn't all that exciting anymore ever since u have him . please ren, just drop it already. finds the look on ur face so amusing , you're so miffed as if it wasn't your idea in the first place ! quickly wipes the frown off your pretty features and replaces it with crossed eyes and lolled out tongue tho <3

6. reo - two and a half weeks ! ─── you make him do it <3 and the thought is far too thrilling for him to refuse. also...... he's a switch leaning sub anyway so :( does he even have any word in it? no not really. one look from u is all it takes to make him melt ! it drives you insane to see how he just gives a slight whine or a sigh in the mornings, hard cock straining against his boxers but he's such a good boy - of course he listens and doesn't touch himself <3 just gets up and goes on with his day , knowing better. has this haze over his mind and it shows by his glossy eyes or warm hands that start to roam around your body more frequently . you only ever let him drop it when he's nearly in tears ,, it just hurts !!!!! he cannot keep focus on practice or workouts anymore :( the ache in his tummy and boxers too overwhelming. wraps his arms around you from behind as you cook dinner for u two - sturdy chest pressing all against you, hands grabbing at your waist and there's a shaky breath by your ear. please, please i can't take this anymore. you're not that cruel, and end up praising him for being such a good boy for u for the past weeks <3

4. sae - three weeks ! ─── gets annoyed with the way you keep teasing him, even when he comes home from the longest day of practice ever, and thinks that it might actually be the perfect time to teach you a lesson ! tbh sae strikes me as a dom BUT with solid switch tendencies so !! he actually starts to regret his decision like a week and a half in lol. doesn't let it show at all though and keeps his cool,, knowing that it's exactly how to rile you up <3 giving you such humdrum looks it makes you week in the knees. it's until he sees you come out of the shower, a pretty little vibe in hand, cheeks flushed and eyes lidded when he realizes he might not have the upper hand anymore :( knows that he can keep control of his needs if he has to, but it just gets so fucking annoying, even more so when he knows he's the one that came up with it in the first place. is beyond thankful when u unexpectedly finally BEG HIM to just feel him,, and takes you right here in the moment. puts u in a mating press and fucks you silly only to flip you over and make you ride him as the prettiest little sound start to slip out. ngh- yeah, make m'cum, pretty girl. can't think straight no more. ( > ///////////// < ) cums embarrassingly fast like this as well ...... like just a minute or two of you riding him and grabbing at his shoulders or biceps and he's whining so loud. pretty baby is so flustered tho !!!

4. chigiri - three weeks ! ─── PLEASE he's such a tease ! takes up on the challenge when he hears the boys mention it and is kind enough to give you a heads up . is definitelyyyy one of the biggest menaces of them all tho with the way he riles u up so much. knows that the way he brings his hair up into a loose ponytail instantly makes u think of how he does it whenever he's about to eat you out - so he does it right in front of ur eyes, hairtie in his teeth and giving you a sly look ! makes plans with you so that you just have to go to practice with him first,, otherwise you won't make it on time - because he knows how much it turns you on to see him in the zone <3 thinks that he has it all in control until you crawl between his spread legs and give him the prettiest begging eyes, hands already palming at the sturdy muscle of his thighs, threatening to move higher - right where he now feels the dull ache and strain against his shorts. this is unfair, hyo. haven't i been good to you? isn't all that much of a hard dom,, but definitely makes you feel it how it wasn't worth spurring him on :((

3. aiku - three and a half weeks ! ─── same thing that happened with barou,, but this man has much better self control ! it gets him INSANELY hard and fucking insane to think of how you'll be dripping by the very end of this month , pleading him to finally fill you up. doesn't let you touch yourself either, though </3 so that's what it makes it even more fucked up ! he's the one to convince you to it - has to give a little push bc you're just so needy, the thought alone is enough to make your head spin - but knows that you're actually a lil excited yourself when he sees the glint in your eyes ! doesn't try to tease you all that much but pleaseeeeee have u seen this man .. he doesn't even need to try and he gets you SOAKING ! might just bust a nut himself everytime he thinks of how good it'll feel to finally have you once the month's finished. all of his plans go to waste when you end up watching a movie and smoking a blunt together tho ...... it's ridiculous how you're on top of him within SECONDS after the few first hits kjafhaskfh the weed makes you hazy too you end up going for hourssss on end :( in the morning you're smacking him in the head for even giving u the idea to smoke when you both know how horny u two get afterwards ,, maybe it was his unconscious horny self making the decision tho afhakhsaf

1. ryusei - the whole month ! ─── PLSSSS he's so deranged afafalasfa he LOVES edging the both of u. makes sure u know what's about to come days before november even starts lol and makes good use of it,, you don't even have the energy to think about fucking for the first few days of nov when he's railed u so good minutes before midnight hit 😭 is such a tease during the whole month ! would straight up edge you and bring you right up to your high, only to pull away at the very last second and leave you crying so pretty :( is mean about it, but knows it'll be worth it in the end ! looooves mutual masturbation - thinks that he just might fail when he sees u spread out in front of him, panting and moaning so sweetly, BUT ofc he doesn't let neither of you come . scares you with the way he grabs you so rough and fucks you on the literal floor as soon as the date changes to december :0 pls he's so funny i can see him checking the clock both before it starts & ends gives you the absolute best fuck you've ever had your whole life ,, you need to call in sick the next day bc your cervix is so bruised and gives you cramps :(

1. kaiser - the whole month ! ─── does it just to prove a point. you're a brat to him anyway,, so he's sure you can take matters into your own hands for just a month! (it's not like he absolutely adores the iittle attitude of yours and is the one that always spurs you on even further! definitely not ! </3) considering the world cup is coming soon, he's away most of the days anyways, but usually he'd take care of you as soon as he comes back .. this time he only gives you a good night kiss and pulls you close :( no action whatsoever ! as if you didn't exist to him in any sexual form. also doesn't let you touch him even once either - he despises any distractions after all! it makes you want to cry with desperation cause your own touch just isn't enough - it's a whole other experience to have him manhandling u around and making u do the work to please him ! he takes you to the world cup with him as well,, since he doesn't want u to be lonely ((and actually wants u there with him </3)) so you're extremely fucked . seeing him absolutely trashed and exhausted after a match ?? watching from the first row stands as he absolutely demolishes the field ?? he couldn't get any hotter than he is during the games and u know it :( you end up nearly crying when he finally allows you to touch him , thank him thru the tears and he makes you come in like mere minutes :( won't ever admit that this is the hardest he's ever been lmaoo

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kiestrokes · 5 months

Note

Omg so I can't stop thinking about high sex with ateez like ive been so insatiably horny everything I've smoked or had an edible I just AHHH i just want dick so bad

Stoned Sex with ATEEZ | NSFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader/You/Yn (vagina pov) Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Genre: headcanon, imagine, smut. Warnings: cannabis use (obviously), in theory both parties are high, so it is mutual, everyone is consenting, established relationship vibes.

Sexually Explicit Content: mentions of subspace, morning sex, rough sex, deep sex, feral (idk at this point just proceed with caution if you're just a vanilla person), rough touches, kissing, biting, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), humping, thigh fucking, surprise orgasm, orgasms.

🗝️ Note: let me know if I missed anything for the warnings, I am not really here in the realm of proof reading. Sorry, this took me a while to get to my atiny anon, hope it's enough to hold you over until you make it to a dick appt!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted here.

Park Seonghwa Hwa appears unassuming, the two of you go through the usual nightly routine but once he's got you in the bed things shift. He's a needy cat, pawing across your body, you fit snug against his hips as he rocks softly into you from behind, moaning about how soft and plush your skin is when he's like this. He doesn't want to be inside you, just nestled between your thighs from behind as his slim fingers play your clit like an instrument, stroking moans out of your body with each pluck.

Kim Hongjoong High Joong gives me feral vibes...HJ is usually so reserved. But something about the THC sends his brain into overdrive. Hongjoong can't keep his mouth off of you. It's everywhere, until it's finally exactly where you need. Between your thighs. He's rocking his hips restlessly into the end of the mattress at each squirm and thrust of you pelvis against his chin.

Jeong Yunho He is probably the most aware while high, the only thing is his grip is a little stronger than normal. Yunho basically wants to embed himself in your body. For his hands to become one with your thighs. You wake up with lovely handprints in the morning reminding you of him.

Kang Yeosang I feel like stoned sex with Yeo is going to be soft, like how Hwa talks about him being cute drunk. He's whiney and very vocally appreciative of you and your body. It's slow and maybe a little intense, missionary with you rolling on top. Yeo loses it when you press him down into the bed. He dissolves a little into subspace when he's high.

Choi San guys (non-gendered) I am so sorry but THIS man, he falls asleep before anything can actually happen. He sleepily stokes your fire, but you're left finishing the job yourself. Sorry to my San biases, I wish I felt different about this one too. He's just a sleepy man. Definitely wakes you up in the morning for some slowww, drawn out sex. He's intense from how he gazes at you to the lingering pace at which he fucks you.

Song Mingi High Mings becomes big and pliable. He's also whiney and vocal like Yeosang, but a little less articulate. Mingi wants to spoon you, which quickly escalates into something else. His hands are all over you, drifting across your body. Crushing you into his lap as he tries to bury himself in you, deeper and deeper with each thrust. The two of you fall asleep with him still inside (rip you with that uti later).

Jung Wooyoung Feral like his hyung...this guy. He can’t get enough of anything. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He wants to be melted to you. Your lips, tongue, it’s drawn-out sex because he doesn’t want it to end. You're overstimulated in the best way possible; every nerve ending is firing.

Choi Jongho Is giggly. I can just FEEL it. Jongho is laughing but also giving you that intense gaze and each touch is purposeful. You're so keyed up from the laughter and foreplay that your giddiness spills over into a quick and extreme orgasm that takes you both by surprise. Jongho has never come so quickly, and you sure as hell never have.

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moneymasnn · 7 months

Text

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly.

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris.

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.”

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage.

“Y/n?”

Max.

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler.

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table.

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement.

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room.

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel.

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked.

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through,

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward.

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied.

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner.

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing.

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point.

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj.

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder.

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you.

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”

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bellaramseysgf · 1 year

Text

Shotgun (P.P)

Warning(s); smoking,mentions of cannabis,descriptions of being high,kissing,age gap (Pedro’s in his 40’s readers in her 20’s),allusions to smut but no smut,jealous!pedro,making out.

Pairing(s); dbf!Pedro pascal x (Afab) Fem!Reader.

Summary; your dads friend catches you doing something you shouldn’t have.

A/n; pedro is so sexy🫶

You had arrived home from college for the summer a few nights back. In the few days you’d been here you’d unpacked,went grocery shopping,oh and spent the first days missing your family. Your dad took your mom and siblings on a work trip leaving you to spend your summer alone. Well it was meant to be alone.

However,you weren’t the only college student home for summer.

You had met up with a few of your friends one of them managing to steal some of their dads stash. They were rolling it up while you sat talking to one of the many guys that had came over.

“Have you ever smoked before” one asked and you nodded “that’s hot” he replied with and you let out a half hearted chuckle.

You sometimes hate the men your age, they’re so stupid. They think they’re so smooth but in reality they make you cringe up on the inside.

By now the shortening joint had been passed around the circle a few times making its way back to you. You sucked the smoke inside your lungs holding it until you breathed the smoke back out.

You could already feel the soft buzz interrupting your train of thought,your body slowly became warm. Your mind felt a little lighter as you could feel yourself relaxing into the feeling.

Suddenly you heard the door open you looked over wondering who it was, your parents wouldn’t be home for a few more weeks. You saw your dad’s friend stood in your doorway.

He wore a pair of jeans and a tight fitting shirt, the fabric held onto his arms and you could see the soft outline of his abs under the shirt.

“Oh no we’ve been caught!” You spoke a soft giggle following as pedro stood there with a disappointed look on his face. “What are you doing?” He asked and you shrugged “having some fun” you said.

Pedro noticed the dazed look in your eyes already knowing you weren’t in the right frame of mind. Your legs draped over another boys lap his hands rubbing your legs. The sight made Pedro’s hands fist up his body stance straightening just a bit making him come off as taller then he was.

“Alright, everyone out.” Pedro demanded most of the group standing up and making their way out. “What makes you the boss you ain’t her daddy.” One of the boys spoke up. “I’m in charge of her.” Pedro replied “so she’s mine,not yours. Now. Out.” He demanded again the last few stragglers leaving you with a half smoked joint.

You let out a soft sigh as pedro locked up, you taking another hit off the still smoking herb. “Guess it’s a good thing I checked up on you” Pedro said as he made his way next to you on the couch. “I wouldn’t say a good thing” you replied “but it’s never terrible to see you” you said eyeing the flexing of his stomach as he breathed.

“I see.” He commented “you gonna share?” He asked and you let out a breathy laugh before handing him the paper.

You watched him take a hit his body stiffening as he held his breath, his stomach tightening under the fabric of his shirt. His abs became taut and you wish you were the fabric covering him. He let a puff of smoke roll from his lips passing the joint back to you.

“Your friends have shitty weed” he informed you and you giggled taking another hit and blowing it out. “What do you expect from kids in their 20’s?” You asked and he shrugged “something better then this” he said as he stole the joint back from you.

You could watch him smoke all day. It fit him. It really fit him.

“Who was that little thing you were laid up on?” He asked and you shrugged “some guy named Javier” you replied taking your joint back to hit it.

A mutual silence fell as you passed the joint back and forth. What was supposed to be your last hit turned into pedro grabbing your jaw and jerking you to him shotgunning you. He blew the smoke into your mouth keeping his inches away from yours.

It took you by surprise. You stared up at him as he leaned back the smoke rolling out of your mouth. He let out a chuckle enjoying your reaction or his movements.

“What was that?” You asked “what was what?” Pedro replied “you just almost kissed me” Pedro shook his head “no,no I just was helping you smoke.” He replied simply. “Stop gaslighting me!” You said with a laugh punching his arm. He let out a chuckle looking over at you, you weren’t sure what snapped.

The two of you smashed your lips together. It was dizzying how good the kiss was. It was soft and passionate but still held so much need. It was as if the two of you had electrified each other you couldn’t stop the kissing.

You broke long enough to climb in his lap immediately devouring his lips once more. His hands rested on your hips, your hands tangled in his hair. You kissing was full of teeth clacking together and his tongue fighting yours for dominance. It was sloppy and messy you both a little buzzed, even more so from the kiss.

When Pedro finally stopped to breathe the look of you had his cock jumping in his pants. You lips were puffy and swollen from his constant biting and sucking, your eyes were glazed over and looked so pretty. He wanted you so bad. However, he knew enough to know he didn’t want you to feel used.

“Not yet” he spoke breathless, panting just like you “someday just not like this.” He explained and you nodded in agreement.

Someday couldn’t come fast enough.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #Pedro pascal is daddy #Pedro #pedro pascal smut #smut #star wars smut #the last of us

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lmccannabisyoutube · 4 months

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PREMIERING IN 10 MINUTES ON THE LMC CHANNEL!

New York's Cannabis Mayor & the Purple Haze: Shiest Bubz (Documentary)

https://youtu.be/6aJf3GtHDz8

#youtube #entrepreneur #marijuana news #cannabis education #lets talk cannabis #cannabis industry news #marketing #cannabis content #marijuana industry #cannabis stocks #LMC Luc #purple haze #Shiest Bubz #cannabis New York

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cannabiscomrade · 9 months

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It's Gastroparesis Awareness Month

Hi! I have gastroparesis and I'm an insufferable know-it-all so let's talk about it!

Gastroparesis, or a paralyzed stomach, is a condition that causes delayed gastric emptying.

This can cause a range of symptoms and complications:

nausea

vomiting

early satiety/fullness

upper gastric pain

heartburn

malabsorption

dehydration

malnutrition

Gastroparesis can be treated by a gastroenterologist, but often needs to be managed by a motility specialist due to a lot of misconceptions about the condition. Providers, especially in the emergency department, will commonly misdiagnose gastroparesis as cannabis-hyperemesis syndome, cyclic vomiting syndrome, gastritis, food poisoning, etc.

There are several commonly known causes of gastroparesis like vagus nerve damage from diabetes, injury to the stomach, and stomach surgery like hernia repair or bariatric surgery. There are also idiopathic cases with no known cause. Other causes of gastroparesis are:

Connective tissue disorders like HSD and EDS (commonly hEDS and cEDS)

Post-viral (like COVID, viral gastritis, mononucleosis/Epstein-Barr)

Restrictive eating disorders

Autoimmune diseases like Systemic sclerosis (scleroderma), Lupus, Hashimoto's

Central nervous system disorders

Gastroparesis also has common comorbidities with conditions like:

POTS and other forms of dysautonomia (POTS, EDS, and gastroparesis are a common triad of diagnoses)

MCAS

SMAS (which can also present with similar symptoms to GP)

Intestinal dysmotility and esophageal dysmotility disorders (known as global dysmotility)

PCOS with insulin resistance

Endometriosis

SIBO/SIFO

Chronic intestinal pseudo-obstruction

Migraines

Certain medications like Ozempic and other drugs in that class act on the digestive system to delay gastric emptying, which has caused people to be diagnosed with gastroparesis. Some people report that their cases have not gone away since stopping the medication, others report feeling better after stopping. Other drugs like opiates and narcotics can cause delayed gastric and intestinal motility as well, but these are commonly known side effects of those painkiller classes.

Gastroparesis is classed based on severity and graded based on how you respond to treatment.

Severity of delay ranges from mild to very severe, and this is based on your actual stomach retention calculated at 4 hours into a gastric emptying study.

The grading scale ranges from one to three, one being mild and three being gastric failure.

There is no consistent single treatment that is proven to work for gastroparesis, and there is no cure. Treatments can consist of:

Diet changes (3 Step Gastroparesis Diet, liquid diet, oral sole source nutrition)

Prokinetic (motility stimulating) drugs

Anti-nausea medications

Proton-pump inhibitors

Gastric stimulator/gastric pacemaker

Pyloric botox and dilation

G-POEM/pyloroplasty

Post-pyloric tube feeding

Gastric venting/draining

Parenteral nutrition

IV fluids

Other surgical interventions like gastrectomy or rarely, transplant

Gastroparesis is a terrible disease and I hope that if any of these symptoms resonate with you that you can get checked out. I was misdiagnosed for a long time before getting a proper gastroparesis diagnosis, and all it took was a gastric emptying study. This is ESPECIALLY true if you're having post-COVID gastrointestinal problems that are not improving. I almost died from starvation ketoacidosis because of how serious my GP got in a short period of time post-COVID (I had GP before COVID), and now I'm tube reliant for all my nutrition and hydration.

Stay safe friends!

#gastroparesis #disability tag

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tulypes · 5 months

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nsfw alphabet: dick grayson

please like, reblog or comment. ♡ open orders i'm super inspired to write, lol. minors don't read.

tw: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, insinuation of drug use (cannabis/marihuana), Dick being a goofy pervert, degradation, hc a little long

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dick is a caring boyfriend, that's undeniable. but post-sex is always a round of sleep, you both fall completely asleep and love it. aftercare actually comes after a brief nap; You wake up, you put on a blouse and Dick puts on some underwear, then you go to the fridge, eat something silly together and watch some comedy film until you fall asleep again.

Or they talk about routine, future desires, marriages, children and everything else.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's a fan of ass. He loves!! likes to squeeze, hit, bite.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Men are visual and Dick doesn't shy away from that. He likes to see you swallowing his cum (if you don't like it, he won't complain, Dick is very respectful), but he goes crazy when you suck him whole and shows that you're swallowing it like it's your favorite flavor of ice cream.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I'll give two, I don't know if you'll like the second one, but let's go.

1: you both have several folders with lots of videos and photos of you having sex (obviously you both agreed to the amateur recordings and they were just between the two of you as a kind of fun – sometimes he even threw them in your face) — look how beautiful you were in that video, look at your face begging me to eat you. Girl, what is this?

2: He likes to smoke…...... Dick knew that marijuana wasn't Bruce's or some superheroes' favorite thing, but he smoked it sometimes. before sex it made him sensitive, he was literally BEGGING for you. After sex, it was more about relaxing, staying calm. Dick loved to drink wine and smoke

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is very experienced, after he lost his virginity, he never stopped. He knows exactly what he's doing, but that doesn't stop you from teaching him something.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ok, I'll stop for a moment here. It depends on the day, it depends on what you're feeling at the moment. when you two are in a more romantic vibe: missionary. He loves to look into your eyes, tell you how much he loved you, while sinking his dick into you, my beauty. WOW, he also LOVES LOOKING at your face with pleasure and HAVING full access to your breasts.

NOW, MY LOVES, IF DICK GRAYSON IS STRESSED WITH YOU FOR BEING A DEPRAVED BRAT: doggy style. DOGGY STYLE!!!!!

He will push your face into the mattress, he will hold both of your arms behind you and he will hit your butt so hard that you will have bruises for days. Seriously, he loves your ass slapping against his pelvis, you looking at him over your shoulder… this man will cry with passion.

— I love you so much, you bastard!

he'll go even more crazy if you hold his ankles ;)

Dick loves sucking you, the son of a bitch is a pussy addict, so he loves it when you sit with your legs wide open for him, giving him full view of everything. This boy will suck you from top to bottom, side to side.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I feel like the boy Dick is a little silly, at least what's in my head is super playful…. He'll be really fucking you, then he'll remember something, like a fall that Wally took in front of everyone, or some stupid joke, then he'll laugh a lot.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he doesn't like to let it grow, but if you let it grow, he doesn't care

— I'm a feminist man, the way you give me that beautiful little thing between your legs, baby, I'm going to eat it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

you share a lot of intimacy. In addition to being lovers, you are friends. you two share everything, so there are no problems in that regard.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

those videos there? What do you think they are for? When you're far from each other, he jerks off and doesn't have the slightest shame in admitting it. He sends a photo, teases you, says he misses you, moans your name loudly like a prostitute.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

everyone knows he's an exhibitionist. Sex in public or forbidden places was her greatest joy. you have sex in the car, you have sex in the movies, you have sex during Bruce's galas, you have sex during missions, you even have sex in the Batcave (don't tell Batman). he likes air deprivation, wow. He loves squeezing your neck with all his might while you smile like an idiot at him.

HE LOVES WHEN YOU GIVE A SQUIRT, DRINKS IT LIKE WATER AND STILL SAYS IT FEELS YUMMY

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

batcave. lie, I'm joking. So, despite being an exhibitionist clown, Dick loves having sex at home. He loves the comfort that home brings because you don't have to worry about clothes or what you're going to do next. PLUS THERE IS MUSIC!!! Who doesn't love a sex playlist?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think that if he knows that you want it, that the desire is mutual, it is already a motivation. Seriously, Dick is very respectful, so if you show any hint that you're not in the mood, say no at that moment, he won't try anything.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

menage. divide you. watching you have sex with someone else. and synonyms. Seriously, he doesn't like it! THE BIGGEST SUPPORTER OF MONOGAMY OF THE CENTURY. He likes being with you and that in addition to sex, so there's no way he can have a threesome.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves them both. loves to suck you, as I said. but he also loves receiving, Dick always praises his skills with his mouth. he loves sideways 69, because the pleasure is divided for both

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day and the moment, but it is generally faster and more difficult. you both liked this!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes it a lot, but he prefers complete sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dick is willing to do anything except menage. one time, you even joked with him about being a snack between him and his brothers…. Dick got upset, girl.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The guy is a superhero and lived in a circus, he is resistance personified, but if he is too tired or injured, due to his tough routine as a nightwing, he won't get very far, okay?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

when he found out that you had vibrators stored in the back of a drawer, it was like WOW, A DEVILIAN SMILE CAME ON THAT FACE. He loves using them, touching them at full speed to your breasts or clitoris.

— you have a dick amusement park, mini Dick will be jealous

Do you know what he loves? vibrators with remote control. This son of a bitch will make a point of sticking them in you and taking you to dinner. with every step you take, it will change your speed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he really likes it! you two were a great match in every aspect, so teasing is always welcome. you're doing something, he comes up from behind, kisses your neck, says he misses you, IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU'RE TOGETHER ALL DAY, ALL WEEK. When you're on some not-so-important mission, he'll keep whispering how hot you look in the hero costume, he'll rub your ass whenever he gets the chance.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he is so noisy…

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Did you read the letter A of the alphabet? So, let's go. He always wakes up first, so he loves watching you sleep, no matter how messy your hair is or if there's drool on your cheek, he thinks you're beautiful. He will caress your waist, he will caress your scars, your stretch marks. It's not very sexual, but I think it's a good hc

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's big and thick, not in an absurd and lying way, but he's got a REALLY nice package. It's obvious that you preferred mini (or not so mini) Dick over vibrators.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

the bastard is always excited, he always makes you laugh. but in the morning…

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it turns off, ok? Don't expect much from this guy, especially after a round of weed and sex.

#nightwing x reader #dick grayson #nightwing imagine #dick grayson x reader #batfam x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x black!reader #smut

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undead-supernova · 4 months

Text

High Tolerance

Part 1 / Part 2

Masterlist

warnings: weed consumption, sickly sweet pining

pairings: bestfriend!bisexual!modern!eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie are besties and like to get high. and maybe you are yearning for one another. just maybe. juuuuust a little bit.

wc: 3.6k

I'm so proud of this, I hope people enjoy it!

Part 1: Strawberry Syrup

You and Eddie mirrored each other, your elbows resting on the glass counter as you rested your chins on one hand, listening intently to the clearly stoned woman talk about the promising high of the day.

The bottle she’d taken down from the shelf looked like a tiny juice box, with pink liquid sloshing inside and a green label with a cannabis leaf, because of course.

“Look,” she said, pointing at a thin layer of film at the top. “That thin layer right there? That's the THC.”

You looked over at Eddie, his expression matching yours in wonder at how products like these existed. He was nearly grinning, mouth twisted to the side in awe. She continued to explain the process to you—this was Delta-9 THC syrup. Strawberry flavored. Your instructions were clear: mix it into a drink, preferably soda, and have fun.

When the two of you emerged from the smoke shop, you took a sharp pivot across the street to the gas station to get sodas. The southern July heat was starting to show its unwelcome presence, beating hard on you within the two minutes it took to walk over to the Exxon.

Eddie never truly got the memo for the sun, even when you told him how hot it was going to be outside. He donned a black t-shirt with one of his friend’s band logos on the front and a simple silver chain around his neck. He still wore his leather jacket and navy jeans, denying how hot he was when you called him out for being sweaty.

“Woah! Rude!” Eddie exclaimed as you walked through the automatic doors, putting a hand on his chest. There was even sweat running down his knuckles from his rings. “I am perfectly content. Maybe I like a little sweat.”

You gestured to your own sweaty body, clad in a black crop top with red lining along the low bustline and black jeans. And you quickly realized that you were also wearing jeans in eighty degree weather.

“I’m afraid I made the same mistake and I am a hypocrite,” you empathized, catching him off guard. “My apologies.”

“Yeah, I guess you did, huh?” he said softly.

He glanced down at your outfit and you suddenly felt nervous at the exposure. You paused, realizing you’d both stopped walking. Holding his stare, you looked up at him with a slight smirk. Was Eddie checking you out? Did he really do that? And were you teasing him back? Was that what this was?

No. You were getting ahead of yourself. You were always making up shit like this.

You pivoted, skipping over to the refrigerated drinks, Eddie following in tow. “I’m excited to try this. I’ve seen it in there so many times, but I couldn’t figure out the right time to try it.”

“And you’d never do it without your bestest friend of all best friends, right?” Eddie asked, a playful smile settling on his lips as you flitted around him.

“That is correct.”

Eddie settled on a Sprite while you decided to grab a strawberries and cream Dr. Pepper—despite the sound of disgust leaving Eddie’s lips.

“That,” he pointed to your drink, “is nasty,” he said before dramatically shooing you away. “Get it away from my face. You've failed me, sweetheart.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, you replied, “Excuse me, but it’s already strawberry flavored. Wouldn’t that logically help it taste better?”

“No. Nope.” He pointed to the bottle again. “That is what’s killing the children. Dr. Pepper having a strawberries and cream flavor? We’re truly failing as a society.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm lightly and pointing towards the checkout counter. “Let’s get going. I wanna try it out.”

When you got into Eddie’s van, he quickly put your drinks in his half-broken cupholders. Your fault, three months ago. Talk about greening out when you kept trying to shove a drink in and repeatedly hit the plastic until half of it snapped off. The van was pretty clean today, surprising Eddie. He’d tried to clean it out the best he could this morning, getting up way too early to do so. Maybe it was to impress you. Who knew. He certainly didn’t. Not at all.

You twisted off the caps as Eddie pulled the strawberry syrup out of his pocket.

“Half for you, you sick fuck,” he said as he carefully poured the pink liquid into your Dr. Pepper. You let out a hearty laugh as he let the rest drip into his own. “Half for me.”

You put the caps back on your drinks before carefully mixing them together, teetering them back and forth to reduce the likelihood of an explosion. Eddie grinned at you and you couldn’t help but smile back, tapping his bottle with yours.

Before either of you could take your first sip, Eddie said, “Hey, don’t shotgun it.”

You feigned offense. “What? Me? Why would you dare accuse me of being so irresponsible?”

But you knew why. You knew precisely why. There was something about trying stuff with Eddie, from his fresh edibles to the slushies on tap at the hemp store, Jailbait Hemp. (The name was absolutely cringe worthy but you and Eddie swore it was the best place in the city.) Then there were the pre-rolls, the dabs, the potent gummies. You didn’t want to get Eddie started on how many chocolate bars you’d scarfed down before getting a stomach ache and needing to lie down and watch three movies. It wasn’t necessarily unlike you to get ahead of yourself, downing whatever was given to you immediately, especially ones with high doses. Just to see what would happen. Just to have the experience.

Eddie both loved and hated that about you. You’d never thrown up or done something stupid because of it, (other than the tragic cup holder incident), always a little quieter depending on the level of inebriation you were operating on. He loved it the most when the two of you got high in public, like today. Neither one of you were ever loud or obvious about it, usually giggling with one another in hushed whispers. It was actually quite nice.

But, most of all, he loved getting high with you in public because you held his hand. Anywhere you went, whether it be to walk around Hobby Lobby or taking in nature at a nearby park, you held onto him as tightly as you could. You’d told him once, in a haze of one of those blue raspberry Delta-9 slushies, that you felt safe by his side, knowing no one could hurt you when he was there. His mere presence left you feeling more relaxed than at any other point of the day. Even when you were sober.

He’d looked at you after you said that, stunned by your admission. You’d said it simply, as if it was just a well-known fact that he should’ve known already. Even when you’d looked away from him to gaze back out over the Chattahoochee River, surrounded by loud families and barking dogs, he couldn’t help but soften around the edges. Water had collected in his eyes, nearly slipping out and over his rosy cheeks. But he’d forced himself to look away, to fight the urge to confess that you made him feel the same way. (And then some.)

Eddie only hoped he’d see the day where you took his hand without the THC in your system.

“Yes, you, Weirdo.” Eddie shook his head. “Do you not remember when we made that beer cheese with that Delta-Whatever shit your sister got us for your birthday and then you took half of the cheese and—”

As he spoke, you quickly tipped the bottle into your mouth and began to chug.

Eddie said your name with an exasperated sigh. “You’re literally the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

Unable to respond verbally, you winked at him and threw up a middle finger, letting the seamless mixture of Dr. Pepper and artificial strawberry flavoring slide down your throat. Usually there was an aftertaste of THC in different products. But you couldn’t even taste the syrup. It was like there was nothing else in the drink. Brilliant.

Eddie only shook his head with a smile, knocking back nearly half of his drink just to give in to your antics. Why not? It was a lazy Thursday, anyways.

This was one of those rare occasions when you and Eddie had the same day off of work. It usually happened once or twice a month, leading you both to take the opportunity to go by Jailbait Hemp, find something new to try, split the cost, and see what happens.

As the bottle left your lips with a small pop, you couldn’t help but let a loud burp ripple through the air, smiling proudly. Eddie squinted his eyes with a serious expression on his face, pretending to listen intently like he was interpreting art.

“That might’ve been my best one,” you admitted, your face a bit smug as you slammed the empty bottle back into the pitiful cup holder.

Eddie shrugged. “That was about a six, Weirdo.”

“A six?” you asked incredulously. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever reached that octave before.”

“Sweetheart, you forget that you have the world champion in front of you.”

“Prove it!” you exclaimed, leaning in and scrunching your nose at him. Taunting him further, you added, “You won’t.”

Eddie mirrored your expression, the two of you looking at each other like mischievous little kids. The kind of misbehavior that would get you sent to the office in middle school with a threat of suspension and mud smeared over your clothes like a 1st Place ribbon.

“Fine,” he said before beginning to down his Sprite. Before you could compliment him on his shotgunning abilities, his burp rang through the van, loud and deep, clearly ten times better than anything you could muster.

Even in your obvious defeat, you had to suppress a laugh, trying as hard as you could to continue the bit. “That was obviously a two,” you said. “They should’ve crowned someone else.”

Eddie swatted your arm and you did the same. “You’re an absolute menace, you know that? And a liar.” Before you could offer a witty retort, he said, “Now, come on. This’ll hit soon and I don’t wanna be driving when it does. We got shit to do.”

“What’re we doing at the aquarium?” you asked as Eddie pulled into the parking garage. There was a banner above it, fading from a penguin swimming in the ocean to three more resting on rocks. You’d always found it adorable, filling you with excitement.

“Uh, well, uh,” he stumbled as he stretched through his window and grabbed a parking voucher. “Yeah,” he continued as he set it on the console and drove through. “I just thought that the syrup would go well with the fish, you know? And it’s deserted right now, being Thursday and all. Also, don’t worry about a ticket. I got you covered.”

You gawked at him. As Eddie parked and reached for the seatbelt latch, you placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Eddie, it’s, like, fifty dollars to get in. Let me get my own,” you pleaded. “Or we could go somewhere else. I know money’s tight for both of us as it is.”

Eddie shook his head, his smile beginning to falter. “You like to come at least once every summer,” he murmured, looking down to fiddle with the seatbelt still in place. “I wanted to do something nice for you, you know? You’re my best friend.”

Your heart ached a bit at the way he said “best friend.” It sounded removed, like a placeholder for something else, something more. He looked up to meet your eyes again and you felt some part of you wince as a wave of emotion bubbled inside your chest.

Because that was just the thing, wasn't it? He wasn’t just your best friend. He was the one you spent most of your time with, the person you swapped places with for a sleepover almost weekly. The person you went on mindless adventures with to explore Atlanta, window shopping all of the mansions out in Buckhead for when Eddie would become a rockstar and (jokingly) leave you a tiny guest house in the back.

The person who had remembered an insignificant detail about you and decided to give you a present.

All you wanted was to lean over, to lightly brush your lips over his, slowly leaving remnants of a soft Thank you. But you couldn’t. No matter how much you suspected Eddie’s affections, you couldn’t attempt to make a move.

So you opted to slowly headbutt his arm and get out of the car.

“You’re so weird,” he teased as you walked around the side of the van.

“So-rry that I’m showing my best friend affection,” you joked back. “We don’t always have to hate each other.”

Eddie snorted, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Ah, yep. Definitely. We hate each other so fucking much.” He stopped suddenly. You raised an eyebrow as he turned to you, jumping into a fighter’s stance before waving an imaginary sword in your direction. “I am here to avenge my father’s death!” he exclaimed, mimicking a warrior’s bellow. “You will pay, scoundrel.”

You jumped into a similar position, moving your imaginary sword closer to his chest. He moved with you, as if to block your approach. “Thee foul fiend,” you started with a British accent. “I will vanquish thou and feed you to the dragons. Purge you in the fiery—uh—fires of the dungeon moats.”

Eddie couldn’t keep going, bursting into a fit of snorts. You broke too, your laughter making every passerby stare. He put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you walked.

“‘Fiery fires’?” he asked. “That has to be the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed at your ridiculous word choice. “Yeah, I don’t know, man. I panicked.”

“I think I’m starting to feel it because I seriously haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

You could be wrong. That’s what you reasoned with yourself. You had a possibility of being wrong, so you did nothing. After that first time you accidentally held his hand on sheer impulse due to the half cup of Delta-8 beer cheese you chugged, you kept doing it. He thought it was funny. He also said it was cute. Something you did was cute to him. So, whenever you were inebriated, you disguised the action and made the most of it. He always let you hold it, let you cling to him wherever you went. He never even commented on it, just accepting it when you made the contact.

And you could’ve been wrong, but Eddie was looking at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world and he was looking at your mouth and not your eyes and there was something verging on romantic about this moment.

But there was that chance, that tiny glimpse of doubt that led you to believe you were destined for the wrong timeline. The one where it wasn’t true. You were the delusional girl in the film that would never get the love interest at the end. The one left behind.

So you held his hand tighter and looked away.

You were like a little kid when you went to the aquarium, nearly running around to each pane of glass. Looking at the different plaques, you’d search for each individual species listed, tapping on the glass each time. And that hadn’t changed. You just so happened to be a little bit more amazed by the beauty of sea life from the high.

How wonderful it was to be surrounded by a different existence! Something that humans could never truly fathom living. They moved differently than us. They felt different. Saw colors differently. They even breathed differently. Life was much bigger than just you, despite it always feeling like you and Eddie were the only ones left in the world.

For some reason, Eddie seemed a little more reserved today. He wasn’t bouncing off the walls like you were. Instead, he took his time. He responded when you spoke, of course. When you asked if it was okay to run ahead, he promised it was. He’d always catch up with you eventually, pointing out fish you hadn’t spotted yet. But he always made the time to stand back with his hands in his pockets and stare, like he was just as captivated as you were, maybe just in a different way.

Eddie didn’t tell you that he’d put aside that $100 to use once he asked you out on a date. But he’d desperately wanted to see this look on your face, your slightly red eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in awe as you witnessed the beauty surrounding you. You were nearing the end of the moving tunnel, surrounded by fish on all sides. There were even a few divers waving at the glass. The blue lighting made you something to marvel at, the ebbing water spreading dappled light over you. He knew this look, the one where you were somewhere else, in a deep appreciation of the world around you. It was when you were keenly aware of the meaning of life. He’d know it anywhere.

And it was him you were holding through it all. For some astonishing reason, you’d let him in to witness the rawest emotions overcoming you. The ones that others couldn’t be privy to, wouldn’t be. When you turned to look at him with tears in your eyes, your lips stretched across your face.

You smiled that smile, the one that told him something was hiding there, like there were words written on your lips that couldn’t be shared. While everything else was his to know, this one smile was not on the list.

Because, every time you smiled like that, Eddie asked, “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Like it was a challenge. Like he wanted to push you to say what you were thinking, even if it was just out of spite.

And you’d look away, waving your hand around, saying, “What? Nothing. I’m not looking at you like anything.”

And he’d respond, “Yeah, okay, sure.”

So, like every other time, Eddie asked, “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

But this time you shrugged, holding his eye contact. “I just, uh,” you stumbled, your smile only growing. “I just really love, um…”

Eddie’s eyes began to widen at the implication of something more, something brilliant. His back straightened, the haze of the high nearly intensifying the moment. Everything was perfect. This moment was perfect and this was going to be it. You were going to finally say something.

“I just really love what you did for me,” you finished. “I appreciate it a lot.”

And just like that, Eddie was cracking under the disappointment. The high settled back underneath his skin and dragged him down. Of course you didn’t say anything. Why would you? He’d only gotten his hopes up based off of a wild theory he had. One that he knew he’d made up just so he could live in some fantasy where you were together and in love. He just wanted to project how he felt onto you. It was as simple as that.

But he couldn’t help being disappointed by it.

He only hoped that you didn’t see him deflate.

“Yeah, sure,” he responded finally, turning to look back at the fish as you stepped off the moving track. “Don’t mention it.”

You didn’t drop his hand, but as he looked away from you to keep walking, nausea began to pool in your stomach. The tank was starting to slosh you around its current and you moving along with it was making it worse.

You immediately excused yourself to go find the bathroom. When you found it, you proceeded to throw up in the trash can. Luckily no one was in there, but you still felt awful. It was an utterly embarrassing feeling, knowing that you’d just thrown up in a public space because of sea sickness that you’d never had before today from being blasted on THC syrup. Oh, and you’d almost just told your best friend that you loved him. While holding his hand. While he was also blasted from THC syrup.

God dammit.

You didn’t mention throwing up to Eddie. In fact, you’d managed to collect yourself for the rest of the day, walking through the aquarium for another hour and a half before Eddie was sober enough to drive back to your apartment. You ended up cooking enchiladas and watching two movies (The Proposal and The Invisible) before Eddie was snoring next to you, stretched out across the couch with his legs in your lap. When you realized he was asleep, you quietly turned the TV off and moved his legs carefully to rest on the couch. You draped a blanket over him and lifted his head to make sure the pillow was positioned at the right angle so his neck wouldn’t ache in the morning.

And here you were, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the errors you’d made. How you’d almost confessed your undying love for him. How you spent the rest of the day inching towards him despite feeling humiliated. How you couldn’t help but lean further in as if he was the only one who could provide you comfort from fucking up so bad.

And when Eddie found you puking from the stress at four in the morning, you knew that this was bad. It was getting harder to keep it in. This was going to boil over and it was going to be soon.

Fuck.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #eeeeep I'm actually posting something yay

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jessikahathaway · 9 months

Text

Cannabis Connoisseur - MYG (M)

Hello all! I had stoner yoongi brain rot this time. And this is the culmination of it all. Pretty much just pwp, but hopefully that’s alright. Please enjoy the filth my loves.

Pairing - Min Yoongi X Reader

Rating - 21+ (This story is 21+ because of the nature of the content in regards to cannabis and the information pertaining to it)

Genre - Pwp, Stoner!AU, College!AU

Words - 6.9K

Warnings - This fic has a lot of information about cannabis and dispensaries, if any of that makes you uncomfortable then this is not the story for you. Full stop right there. Otherwise - Smoking, weed, insomnia (reader is a sleepy gal). Smut Warnings: Oral sex (F. receiving - Yoongi’s Tongue Technology oop-), intense make out session, protected sex, dirty talk (Yoongi’s mouth my God-). (If I forgot anything else please let me know - thank you).

Special thanks to my sweet bb Ella @oddinary4bts for listening to me rant about this Yoongi and reading a bit of the story for me, I appreciate youuuu <3

Summary: Yoongi is the local “cannabis connoisseur.” Every college student who smokes started with a Mr. Min Yoongi. Not only is he the image of slick and cool, giving even the male sports stars a run for their money in the looks department. Insert, you, a study bug who currently is having insanely bad bouts of insomnia. Lucky for you, Yoongi has something for that.

~~~

“Y/N, jesus fucking christ you look like you got steam rolled,” your family’s neighbor, chef Kim Seokjin, called at you while he watered his small garden.

“Thanks Jinnie I am aware I look like death, I thought we were supposed to represent how we feel on the inside,” you said, waving a disinterested, but mainly tired, hand.

He walked up to his fence as you got to your car. “Did you not sleep again last night? There’s no boys or young ladies or-um, other identifying individuals in your life right? If so, I’m proud of you but also-don’t get your back blown out every night because-”

You sighed deeply and Jin stopped his incessant barrage of usual stupidity to see that you were genuinely exhausted.

“Hey, you know they have a local dispensary,” he said, nodding towards the city. “It’s called the ‘Magic Shop’, I know the guy who runs it. His name is Min Yoongi, tell him I sent you, he’s got lots of different stuff. He might have something that will help you sleep,” he said, a worried expression on his face.

“I don’t know Jinnie, I’m so busy I don’t really have time to sleep anyways,” you joked half-heartedly.

Jin frowned before telling you to wait. You did so and when he returned ten minutes later there was a cute, simple Korean styled lunch sitting in his hands. “Take this, it’ll give you energy!” he said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said softly, taking it and giving him a good natured squeeze. “I’ll see about the dispensary on my next day off-thanks again Jinnie!”

Apparently your lack of sleep was even noticeable to your professors.

Mrs. Fleming saw your exhaustion as you walked in for your smaller lecture. She approached you almost instantly. “Miss Y/N,” she called, following you to your seat.

You went to a smaller university in the city so the teachers were much closer to their students, actually getting to know you and your personalities throughout the semesters and different classes.

“Yeah, Mrs. Fleming?” you asked, looking at her with sleepy eyes.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” she asked, petting your head gently. Mrs. Fleming had taught one of your classes practically every semester as one of the main art professors. You were in several different forms of art over the years. Painting, drawing - real life and abstract - as well as pottery, animation, the list goes on.

Art had always been your passion and first love, hence why when most students were out enjoying the summer months, you were still in classes. The arts program worked weird anyways, the more specialized classes went during the summer and the general major programs went during the fall and winter semesters.

However, ever since the weather had gotten a touch warmer, you’d been struggling to sleep. Probably around three months at this point. Just at the beginning of your summer semester, you were hard pressed to see a solution.

You’d downed melatonin and even tried the stupid sleep hygiene. Nothing seemed to work. Soothing music, thunderstorm sounds, changing your sheets. Hell, sleeping naked! All of them combined, and you still tossed and turned, only getting a few hours of broken sleep before having to roll out of bed at 6:45 to head to class by 7:30.

So when tears started streaming down your face, Mrs. Fleming was startled to say the least. “I just want to sleep,” you cried softly, head resting on your arms.

Mrs. Fleming patted your back gently as a parent would their child. Yours were traveling for the summer and had left you to care for the house in their stead. Since you were going to be home for classes anyways. They’d worked hard for years and you knew that a summer together was going to make them extremely happy, so you’d encouraged it. Plus, a summer alone in your home didn’t sound too terrible to you either.

“Go home, Y/N, try to rest if you can. If you can’t then you might want to schedule something with your doctor if you can,” she suggested. “Or, you know, there is a few dispensaries that have opened up around here. If you’re looking for something a little less intense as sleeping medication. Maybe see if that works a little better,” she said with a kind tone.

Looks like you needed a trip to the magic shop.

A few days later, and with a little research under your belt you went to the magic shop as Jin suggested. You parked your car and noticed the building was decently busy. Nothing horrific but it seemed to be doing well. People of all walks of life were going in and out of the place.

It was cool to see that even the more affluent individuals of the city were taking advantage of the business as well.

You strolled up and were surprised to see the level of security and care that was taken into account for the patrons and the workers. You’d never seen anything quite like it before. You were stopped at the counter and asked for your ID to make an account with the establishment so they would know who you were upon return if you chose to do so.

“Are you looking to pick up an online order or did you want to shop with us?” the lady at the counter asked you.

You wrung your hands and answered honestly. “I’ve never done anything like this before, I’m just... I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping and was hoping to find something a little uh... less serious than medicine?”

The receptionist nodded at you knowingly. “Of course, I’ll see if Yoongi is available to help you out. He’s one of our most experienced tenders,” she said, talking on a walkie talkie as she unlocked the door to the shopping area for you. “Head through those doors, Yoongi is gonna take care of you today,” she smiled.

You nodded your thanks to her and walked through the door. The smell hit you right off the bat. As someone who had been to parties and such before you were familiar with it. But everything was so clean and sterile it almost felt like a medical office at first.

Then, a very handsome man approached you. His eyes were dark and he wasn’t wearing the classic uniform as everyone else was. “Hi, you must be Y/N,” he said with a calm expression. He was slightly taller than you, but his features were cool and his hair was longer and dark. He looked like someone out of an old hong kong noir film. His voice was deep and smooth like coffee, you could almost feel a flush trying to sneak onto your features.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a soft voice.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked over you quickly-so fast you almost didn’t notice. But, you couldn’t help but feel a rush flood through your body.

It had been a while since you’d been this attracted to someone right out the gate. But you swallowed that for now, you didn’t want to start looking more like an idiot.

“Cool, come with me,” he said, leading you over to glass cases that had different candies, gummies and even tinctures that had oils and such inside of them. “It says here that you’re having some trouble sleeping?”

You sighed deeply and nodded. “I’m in summer classes at the community college and I’ve been having insomnia for almost three months,” you said.

Yoongi hissed in a breath through his teeth. “Damn, that sounds rough. Well, luckily for you-I have plenty of stuff that can help you sleep.”

With that he led you towards another glass case and pointed at a few different gummies as well as some pieces of chocolate. “So, are you looking for edibles, flower, pre-rolls or concentrate? Have you ever smoked before?”

You flushed and nodded. “I did but-I didn’t do it a ton and I never really felt anything from it,” you said softly.

“Well, we have some pretty good strains that come in concentrate pens that could be beneficial. Take a few hits off of that about half an hour before you’re wanting to sleep and it can put you out decently enough. I recommend Northern Lights, Harlequin or Wedding Cake to help put you to sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled when you gave him a confused look. “So, to break it down, there’s three ‘types’ of weed. Sativa, which gives you energy-helps you get stuff done, Hybrids - which are a blend of the two parent kinds of Sativa and the last one Indica - hybrids help you relax after work or studying, give you a good buzz to help you chill and just have a good time. Finally, what I’m recommending for you, is Indica. It’s the kind that really makes you unwind and can help you fall asleep. When I talk about strains-it’s almost like how there’s different kinds of coffee, right? Each one has a little different caffeine content and different flavor. The ‘strains’ I mentioned are like the different flavors of weed in the indica family.”

Well, when he said it like that, it made a bunch more sense.

“Right, so what do they do?” you asked.

Yoongi was well versed and answered any and all questions you had as you shopped around with him. He didn’t make you feel stupid for asking any questions, the entire experience felt extremely non-judgmental. The more he spoke the more you could see why Jin recommended him.

He was cool and didn’t seem to be bothered by any questions or multiple people approaching him. And when you say multiple-you mean several.

It seemed he was quite popular with the crowd that came in. College students to elderly alike. Everyone seemed thankful that he was helping you out, all of them ensuring you that you were in good hands as they went to pick up their own orders or do their own shopping.

At the end of everything, you’d gotten two packs of gummies - a hybrid and indica both and then a pen with a one gram cartridge of Northern Lights that would help you sleep on the bad nights.

Yoongi took you up to the counter and as he rung you up you thanked him again.

“Thank you so much, seriously, I can’t wait to sleep for three years,” you chuckled.

Yoongi gave you a crooked smile. “I’m happy to help,” he said.

“Oh, by the way, my neighbor said he knows you, he’s actually the one who recommended I come here in the first place,” you stated.

“Yeah? Who’s your neighbor?” he asked, scanning your items.

“Kim Seokjin,” you said.

Yoongi’s face soured for a second. “Aish, that guy, tell him he owes me a lunch! He bailed on me last time, ‘cause he had a bad hair day. I was so hungry and then I had to go to work, brat,” he said. But then a gentler smile took over his features. “He’s a good guy though, tell him I said hi.”

With a soft nod you handed over your money and he rang you up.

“Please let me know if you don’t like anything or if you have any side effects,” he said. “You can stop in or give us a call. And Jin has my number if you have any questions,” he said with a small smirk. “That’s between you and I though, I also owe Jin a favor.”

“I’ll see you soon then, hopefully I get some sleep,” you said with a happy grin.

“Let me know how it goes!” he waved kindly before helping the next person in line.

You felt like a schoolgirl, blushing profusely as you walked out of there. You hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so... fucking attractive. You were almost mortified at how lame you sounded asking him all of these questions but he reassured you the entire time.

“I’d rather you ask questions now than get hurt or something happen to you...”

After two hours of struggling to fall asleep, you were officially upset at Min Yoongi.

You’d taken the edible like he said, you’d even smoked the pen a bit. But all it did was make you giggly and high. You didn’t feel any more tired, which was a big minus to a Mr. Min Yoongi.

Perhaps it was all snake oil as you feared and you’d spent a decent amount of money on something that really wasn’t going to work. You wanted revenge. How?

You really had no idea.

The next day you woke up after perhaps five hours of sleep-more than you’d gotten in a while, but not enough for Min Yoongi the Charlatan to be off the hook.

Jin waved you down from his fence and you approached, he held out a cup of coffee with creamer in it and you accepted that as his peace offering for your very grumpy expression. “So what’s wrong this morning? I have a very interesting piece of information that you did go to the dispensary like I suggested.”

“Did Yoongi tell you that?” you asked.

“Well he texted me asking who my ‘hot neighbor’ was and if you’d asked for his number yet,” he sighed. “Also inviting me to a party for tomorrow night, and was hopeful you’d come along.”

Your tummy, despite your upset at the aforementioned man, fluttered with the idea of Yoongi-first of all-calling you hot and second of all wanting to see you at a party. Jin could see your hesitancy written across your face. But he knew Yoongi would complain endlessly if he couldn’t be a wingman for the ‘missed lunch’ fiasco he was yelling about in his text conversation before you’d even been mentioned.

“Please? I don’t want to go alone and face his moody ass after not giving him that lunch I owe him, help soften the blow with your pretty face?”

“I fail to see how a missing lunch date is my problem,” you stated plainly. “But, I haven’t gone to a party in a while so-I guess I can tag along. What time should I be ready?”

Jin smiled.

“Nine o’clock sharp.”

You had your favorite dress on, a burgundy wine color silk slip dress that had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder straps. It hugged your waist and flared out softly. You’d done your hair in curls and had black stockings on with your favorite strappy sandal heels.

Jin’s mouth dropped when you climbed into his car while holding your dress down.

“Hi Jinnie,” you smiled, your makeup done to perfection. Jin seemed stunned to say the least.

“Who the fuck are you and where is my tired and sweet Y/N?” He said with a shocked expression.

“She’s exhausted and decided to stay home and take a nap, while I go out and have some fun away from studying,” you chuckled. Jin didn’t look half bad himself. He had a nice button up done only halfway up with snug jeans hugging his legs and his rings and necklace shone in the street lamp light. “But let’s go, I want to get some dancing in,” you smiled.

Jin didn’t need to be told twice, driving off towards the party, not before adjusting himself in his seat. You smirked as you looked out the window.

You came to the decision you wanted to tease the fuck out of Min Yoongi this evening. If it leads to more, wonderful, if not-then perhaps the next time you meet you can fuck his brains out then.

But honestly, sex was the only thing you hadn’t tried yet to make you pass the fuck out. Maybe you just needed your back blown out before getting a good night's rest.

If so, the universe needs to say less-because you can think of several less fun ways of trying to fall asleep. Forget sleep hygiene, you think Min Yoongi might have just the thing to help you get some good rest after all.

When you pulled up to the party, Jin let you out first. “I won’t leave without knowing you either have a ride or you’re in the car with me, okay?” he promised as you climbed out.

“Thanks Jinnie, I appreciate it,” you said, giving him a little wave as you headed into the party.

You found some of the girls in your classes and chatted a bit before you found the stoners in the corner. Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook and Yoongi all sat on the couch smoking blunts or joints-and fuck they all looked incredible. Namjoon had a girl in his lap who you’d remembered as his girlfriend-Yoona, and then Hoseok had Jungkook next to him with his girlfriend Elsie. Yoongi-conveniently enough- was alone.

Not for much longer however.

Just as you watched him light another joint and stick it in his mouth you approached. The sway in your hips matching the music as you stalked towards him with purpose. It seemed every eye in the party was locked on you-and you loved moments like this. You were a study bug, and were very much so in love with the work you were doing at school. But many people misunderstood that when you let loose, there was much more to you than that studious aspect.

Yoongi seemed to be discovering this as you leaned down and took the joint from his mouth and held your hand out for a lighter. You didn’t know who handed it to you, but you assumed it was Hoseok. You lit the joint again as Yoongi’s eyes trailed over your body with a ravenous look in them, but his exterior remained cool as ice.

With a deep inhale you felt the head rush hit you. “This shit is better than that garbage you sold me, couldn’t put me to sleep worth a damn,” you said before exhaling the smoke into his face.

You could feel your skirt hiking up your rear end but honestly, you were more focused on Yoongi at this point anyways.

“No?” Yoongi asked. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he cooed, going to reach for another joint when you stuck the lit one back in his mouth. His eyes locked with yours, swirling with interest.

A soft smirk made its way to your face.

“Mmm, I’m sure you are, hopefully you have something else worth my time,” you grabbed a candy from the table and stuck it in your mouth. No doubt an edible but you’d already felt what they could do to you a few times before. If it got bad you knew Yoongi would help you, but this level of confidence was almost more euphoric than the THC.

“Come find me later,” you said with a sultry glance, tossing the lighter on the table and walking away, the same sway in your hips as you found the dance floor.

You notice Taehyung, a guy from one of your photography lectures last semester, was dancing on the floor so you approached him. It was only a matter of time before Yoongi found you, but you were having fun and wanted to have some more while you waited for the attractive male to make up his mind.

“Hi Tae!” you called kindly, he’d never been super chatty in class but you admired his work ethic. You two had done a few projects together and he was nice enough.

“Oh wow, Y/N?” he answered, making space for you in his little space with his friends. Jimin and Seulgi were both chatting with him, it appeared. “It’s good to see you,” he said with kind eyes than ran over your body for a moment. You smiled softly at him before nodding at Jimin and Seulgi.

“You look incredible,” Seulgi smiled, giving you a gentle hug. You and Seulgi had shared a few basic courses and she was friends with a few of yours as well.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “It’s nice to see you too, Tae, I was wondering if I could bother you for a dance?” you asked.

Jimin and Seulgi smirked, looking over as Yoongi seemed to watch the entire display. “Sure you want to test those waters?” Seulgi commented. “Seems like you’ve already made your interest for the night clear.”

“Just because I’m interested doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun,” you said with a sweet smile.

Taehyung grinned. “I’m the designated driver tonight, I don’t mind dancing with you for a while,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Come on,” he encouraged, leading you to the floor.

With a smile you let him pull you in close and sway to the beat. You turned and Taehyung’s hand found your lower stomach and held you there, his head resting in your neck. You sighed at the feeling of another person being so close. Taehyung’s body towered over you and it was nice to be enveloped so completely. The tempo was steady and you two danced against one another, the heat rising in the small space.

“Didn’t know you liked to party like this, Y/N,” he said, no malice in his words. Just genuine curiosity.

“Just because I don’t doesn’t mean I can’t,” you informed him with a teasing grind against his front that caused him to lose his breath momentarily.

He grabbed your waist tighter, not enough to be uncomfortable but enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder. “Clearly,” he said with a smile against your skin. “Yoongi huh?”

You smiled and nodded.

“He’s on his way over here,” he murmured, releasing his hands from your waist.

You barely had time to register his words when a deep voice called from your side.

“Mind if I step in?”

Taehyung looked up then down to you. You gave him a gentle nod and thanked him for dancing for a while.

“Have a good night, Y/N, see you around,” he said with mischievous eyes before walking off into the crowd.

Yoongi moved to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he settled his hands at the small of your back. “You said what I gave you didn’t work?” he asked, the smell of weed stemming from him but also with a spicier undertone to it. “Could you not sleep?”

You smiled as a more upbeat tempo song came on, making your body sway with his in a tempting rhythm. “I did but it wasn’t much better than before,” you answered honestly.

“I’m sorry, you might have a stronger tolerance that I didn’t account for. Did you try taking more?”

Was he really going to talk business when all you could think about was kissing him? His lips looked so warm and perfect to bite. Fuck...

“I tried, still didn’t work,” you whispered, his hands trailed down your back. They rested right above your ass.

Yoongi’s eyes were zeroing in on your lips. Glossy and sweet looking. Your own eyes staring at him with this faux innocence that had his cock hardening in interest. He shouldn’t act like he wasn’t anticipating you showing up when he helped his roommate plan this party at their shared house. Yoongi would gladly let Jin off the hook for their missed lunch if he got to have a night with you. Possibly something…well, that’s a bit too much thinking for right now.

Because your body was grinding against his and there were only so many ways he could react to that. His cock was stiffening in his pants and he didn’t want the entire party to see his raging hard on.

“No? Well... I might have something else upstairs that would help you,” he said.

You actually laughed at that terrible line, but it was the soft smile that he had on his face that completely decimated you. “It better be good then,” you taunted lightly.

“I’ve yet to have any complaints,” he said back.

You texted Jin that Yoongi had found you and he merely responded with the thumbs up and water spray emojis. You rolled your eyes but Yoongi was impatiently dragging you towards the stairs. Yoongi had his arm wrapped around your waist and had you heading towards the room towards the very end of the hallway.

When he opened the door you quickly found yourself pinned against the wall. Yoongi was kissing your neck and shoulder as he was wrapping himself around you. You gasped and let out a soft moan as he attacked your skin. “Y-Yoongi,” you whined softly.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about you since you showed up at the dispensary-fuck,” he growled.

“Yes, yes!” you said, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please, need you to help me sleep baby.”

You tested the term on your tongue and Yoongi sucked a harsh kiss onto the top of your breast. “Pretty tits,” he growled softly. You mewled and he smiled against your skin. “Don’t whine too much or I’ll fuck you on the floor.”

His aggressive words had you clenching your thighs together as he finally connected your lips. You tangled your fingers in his hair and grabbed at his shoulders desperately. Your hips bucked against his front as you made out against the door of this room. His tongue slid against the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth with a hot breath. His mouth devoured yours, eager tongue licking between your lips in search of your own tongue. You pushed yours forward and soon Yoongi had your neck in his hand as he towered over your form trying to kiss your mind away it seemed.

“Touch me,” you pleaded, breathless voice stunning even you. Your hand leading one of his to your chest. He didn’t have to be encouraged much more as he squeezed your breasts as he captured your lips again in an aggressive kiss.

“Gonna fuck you so hard, that’ll put you out nice huh? Pretty girl...” he cooed mockingly against your skin.

“Please~” you whined. “Please baby, need something,” you pouted.

Yoongi growled against your mouth before pulling you from the wall and walking you backwards to the bed. You stumbled onto the mattress and you felt Yoongi cover you as you continued your kiss. Yoongi swirled his tongue inside your mouth and he tasted like weed, but something else as well. A hint of sweet cinnamon.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, hands moving from your waist to your thighs. Without much pretense you nodded, spreading your legs for him. He gave you a crooked grin before his hand moved under your dress to touch your soaking core.

You let out a shaky moan, hips lifting slightly in search of more. “Please, please Yoongi,” you begged.

He tutted and silenced you with a kiss to your lips. “You wait for my cock since you wanted to be a needy little bitch,” he warned, tugging your panties to the side and cupping your heated sex with a dangerously arousing expression.

Although, his aggressive words held no real harm in them. You could tell in the gentle way he stroked your soaking cunt that he really wasn’t going to be this way unless you played into it as well. Yoongi’s brow furrowed attractively as he felt how wet you really were.

“Damn, you’re fucking wet,” he said, voice dropping low in hunger. “Want me to eat this pussy?”

You could barely speak with the way he was caressing your lower lips with his rough fingers. “Yes... Please,” you said, voice whiny and pitched.

He seemed eager as well, not waiting to move to the floor and pulling you to the edge so your legs rested over his shoulders. Yoongi licked his lips, a ravenous look crossing his face. “Can I take your panties off?” he asked, looking at you with more serious eyes.

“Yeah, you can take them off,” you said, voice trembling but wanting.

He didn’t tease this time, pulling your panties off and pushing up your dress to your waist so he could have easier access. You were panting softly, his longer dark hair was falling in his face and you ran your fingers through it to hold it back from his face. Yoongi smirked softly. “Hang on tight,” he said with a greasy smile. You narrowed your eyes and tugged his head back from your center with a harsh jolt. Yoongi merely laughed, before biting his lip. “Pull it harder,” he groaned.

You smiled at him before pushing him closer. “Make me...”

The power play dynamic was tantalizing. The electricity and sexual chemistry seemed almost palpable. Yoongi dove into your center, tongue immediately licking into your slick with eagerness. He moaned against your core, hands moving to your thighs to keep your legs open. You whimpered in pleasure, hips jutting against his hot mouth.

“Fuck... yes, just like that,” you sighed, hand tugging his hair gently as he ate your pussy.

“Such a hot little cunt,” he groaned, licking your clit with deft precision. You cried in pleasure, biting your lip with soft mewls escaping as he continued to eat you out. His tongue drew pulsing patterns along your folds and paid special attention to your sensitive clit.

Yoongi slid his thumb up to your clit as he teased your entrance with his tongue. “Yeah baby, so sweet,” he growled, easing his tongue inside.

You gasped at his hot mouth against your pussy. “Fuck! Fuck!” you cried out. “F-Fingers... put your fingers inside... feel how tight I am for you...”

He didn’t have to be told twice, moving his mouth from your hole to your clit once more as he pushed two fingers inside. He groaned at the feeling of your snug walls sucking his fingers inside. “Fuck... fuck baby feel so good,” he said with a hot kiss to your clit.

Your thighs trembled as the hot pleasure rose in your stomach. The feeling of his fingers working inside of you caused sharp waves of heat and bliss to curl down your spine. Your toes tingled from the sensations his tongue and fingers pulled from you. If he kept up like this you would cum in no time. You brought one hand to your breast, kneading the flesh and rubbing your nipple to only double the heady desire coursing through your body.

“Y-Yoongi, holy shit-baby!” you cried, head falling back against the pillow.

“Yeah baby, cum on my fingers. Cum on my fingers before I pound this pretty pussy,” he said, mouth moving back to your clit as he started to suck.

A pitched cry came from your lips, grinding against his mouth. “Please, make me cum-oh fuck! Cumming!” You shivered, release coating his mouth and fingers as you whined softly.

“Yes, give it to me, good girl,” he cooed, easing you through the peak of your orgasm. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. Yoongi licked his lips as he moved up your body, kissing in random spots. Sucking and nipping as he sat you up and pulled your dress and bra off. Leaving you completely naked while he was still fully clothed.

“Yoongi...” you bit your lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and upper shoulders. He pulled you in, kissing you passionately. You tugged on his shirt and slipped it off, leaving him in his undershirt and pants. “Take more off...”

He smirked, pulling his undershirt off and tossing it to the side. You eagerly grabbed at him, making him smile as he kissed your shoulder and neck. “M’ so fuckin hard baby,” he groaned, palming himself through his pants. “Gonna let me inside? Gonna let me fuck that tight little pussy?”

You nodded, eyes big as you looked at him with eagerness. “Please... want it so much,” you whimpered. “Need your cock baby.”

Yoongi nodded, taking his pants and underwear off in one swift movement before grabbing a condom from his wallet. You reached for it, and he handed it over without fuss. You marveled at his length and gave it a few firm tugs before rolling the rubber on. His dick wasn’t massive but your mouth watered at the perfection of it. The tip was nice and pink while the base was tantalizingly thick that would no doubt fill you perfectly. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside of you. Yoongi sighed as you stroked his cock, head tipping back just a touch. “Fuck… put your ass up,” he said, licking his lips as you did as he asked.

You wiggled your hips in an alluring fashion that had Yoongi growling above you. “Fuck me, fuck me please,” you cried, pouting and making your features docile and sweet. “Wanna be full of your thick cock.”

“Hold yourself open, wanna see that sweet pussy needy for me,” he said, voice husky and deep, rumbling from his chest in an attractive manner.

Without much pretense you did as he asked. You used your hand to spread your ass cheeks apart and reveal your throbbing and wet core to him even more. “Need something inside Yoongi, baby~”

A dark chuckle escaped him, a harsh swat landing on your ass cheek causing a sweet yelp to fall from your lips. “Pretty pussy wants my cock?”

“Yes! Yes I need it,” you pleaded, turning your head as best as you could to encourage him with your needy eyes.

Yoongi felt a rush of lust swirl inside of him at your watery eyes and tensing hole on display. “Then you’ll get it sweet thing,” he purred, finally-finally lining his cock up with your dripping core. You felt the tip catch on your hole before finally sinking inside with a firm push.

Your eyes rolled back in your head for a moment. Your already sensitive pussy swallowing his cock inch after inch with hunger. “Fuck-fuck yes!” You huffed out, voice thin at the sheer bliss of having his thick dick moving inside you.

“Tight-fuck, snug little cunt right here huh? Needed my cock that bad baby?” he teased. Your walls gripped him so nicely, eagerly sucking him back in each time he gave a tentative thrust.

“More, please more,” you mewled, gripping the sheets tightly between your fingers. Yoongi groaned out his agreement before starting his pace. You both rocked slowly at first, getting used to being connected to intimately.

The soft clapping of your skin together made your mind whirl with tantalizing pleasure. However, his cock jabbed slightly too deep and you felt the jolt of pain rock you. You grabbed his hand, hissing softly and he took notice, adjusting slightly to ease the tenderness. “There baby, is that better? Feels good?” He reached around to gently rub your clit, almost in apology for the slight pain. “Sorry baby, let me know if it hurts again.”

With his next thrust the pain was all but forgotten. The only thing on your mind was how nice and thick he was, the glide much easier after his attentive thumb rubbing your clit expertly.

Yoongi felt his lower stomach clenching in heady pleasure from your tight pussy caressing his cock. The tight heat of your cunt causing hot pleasure to run down his spine in pulsing waves.

“You feel so fucking good baby, so wet and hot… fuck, can I go faster?” He asked, still tentative to make sure you were adjusting well.

“Yeah, give it to me,” you said, your head dropping and hanging in bliss as Yoongi picked up the pace.

His cock was pushing inside you much quicker, and his thrusts were becoming shorter but harder. You couldn’t stop the staccato moans from slipping past your lips as he kept up his pace, your needy cries and whines music to his ears.

Yoongi wasn’t a stoic lover either it appeared. He didn’t seem to be extremely vocal, but the way he let out soft growls almost to answer your cries of pleasure made your pussy throb and leak more slick to coat his cock. Yoongi moved forward to grab your hands and pulled your arms back carefully. The only thing keeping you from face planting into the bed now was Yoongi. His cock in your cunt and his hands locked in yours as he started to pound into you.

“Y-Yoongi! Holy shit! Fuck! Please,” you cried, the sound of loud smacks and the wetness of your pussy swallowing his dick falling into white noise as your ears almost started ringing. The pleasure nearly suffocating.

“Good girl, you take it so well,” he praised, his hips rolling into yours. He slowed his thrusts down, grinding his cock inside of you before letting your arms down so you could stretch them.

“I-I wanna be on top,” you said, fighting the whine when he pulled out to accommodate your request.

“Okay baby,” he said, moving to lay down and you climbed on top of him with ease. His cock was red and throbbing, precum collecting in the tip of the condom.

You got yourself on top of him, carefully grinding against his sensitive cock causing his hips to rut against yours with a heady growl. “Fuck…” you trailed off, holding his cock and rubbing your clit against it a few times to gather more of your wetness before moving his cock back inside of your sticky cunt once more.

“Y-Yes, fuck yes,” he moaned, hands finding your hips and rolling them towards him. “Snug little cunt…”

“Yoongi!” You whined, grinding down against his cock in a pleasurable roll. “Fuck me, fuck me baby,” you sighed, head lulling back on your shoulders.

The thickness of his cock filling you almost constantly made your throat dry and heart pound in your chest as you felt yourself get that much closer to your orgasm. His hands trailed down to your ass, gripping the flesh as he started pulling you on his cock, helping guide you over and over to fill the deepest parts of you with a pleasurable burn.

It almost felt like the air was caught in your throat and each push of his dick into your slick heat jolted the moans out of you. His stroke was so good, filling you perfectly each time.

The wetness from your pussy was starting to leak onto his lower stomach. Yoongi moaned at the sight of your walls swallowing him, sweet lips pillowing around his cock as you bounced. He reached up and gripped one of your tits, watching as you tipped your head back again, pretty moans and cries falling from your swollen lips.

Yoongi felt that familiar pooling in his blood, he was gonna cum and soon if you kept it up. You were so pretty whining for him like that, his mind was racing with the urge to finish but wanting to see you under him one more time.

With a soft yelp you fell back on the bed with Yoongi hovering over top of you. Your breaths were mingling as he leaned down to kiss you again. Your tongues clashing and swirling as he started a slow but firm pace inside of you. He pushed his hips against yours in a tantalizing manner, mind focused on the goal of getting you to cum again.

“Almost made me cum, holy fuck you feel so good,” he groaned, kissing your jaw and sucking harsh bites into your skin. You whined and wrapped your arms around his neck as he kept his pace inside you firm.

“S’good,” you slurred, mind slowly becoming drunk off the sensations you were experiencing.

Yoongi smirked at your glazed expression, eyes rolling back softly as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. “Yeah? Cock filling you nice baby? Look so pretty getting fucked out on my dick like this, pretty tits and pussy just swallowing my cock-fuck,” he growled, fighting off his orgasm for as long as he could.

You cried out for him again when his thumb met your throbbing little clit. “Y-Yoongi!” You yelped, feeling yourself tightening up in response to his touch.

“Yeah, just like that huh? Want you to cream this cock baby, cream my dick while you cum like a good little slut,” he snarled, leaning down to bite into your shoulder.

Wound up to the point of tears you squeaked out in pleasurable pain before that rush of bliss flooded you. Your vision blurred as Yoongi fucked you harshly through your orgasm. It made your mind reel, the heady pleasure that was pulsing in your veins.

“Yeah that’s a good girl, soak my dick,” he purred. “Fuck-gonna make me cum, mm, fuck-fucking shit,” he said, voice husky and dark as he pounded inside you a few more times before filling the condom.

You ran your hands down his back and kissed his jaw as he shivered in his own pleasure, your afterglow singing through your body.

Yoongi huffed a laugh out before pulling from your heat, a sensitive hiss coming from between his teeth. “Shit, damn near passed out myself,” he teased, looking at your sleepy features before heading to get a cloth for the mess between your thighs.

Did it really just take a solid good fuck to put you out? If so, you weren’t going to be one to complain.

“Should… should I go?” You asked, sitting up with a yawn.

Yoongi came back with cool cloth and gently cleaned you up. “Nah, you can stay tonight, I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

You nodded slowly, eyes fluttering in exhaustion.

His soft laughter was the last thing you heard before falling sound asleep.

Finally.

#btsafterdarknet #52 Hertz #Bangtan Sorcerie #Min Yoongi #Min Suga #Suga #Yoongi #Yoongi Smut #Cannabis #Min Yoongi Smut #BTS #BTS fanfic #BTS smut #Stoner Yoongi #reader insert #BTS reader insert #Jessika Hathaway

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hobiebrownbrowser · 10 months

Text

Heated Jealousy

Hobie Brown x Jealous Punk FEM!reader

🔞No Kids Allowed🔞 not my problem if you get traumatized.

Summary: Jealousy can get someone hurt.

Ever since the 'new girl' joined the band it was hell and back. Watching everyone act fondly with her as if she was here from day one. Even Hobie liked her, which was surprising. Considering things hardly peeled at his interest.

You can't deny it. You weren't going too. You were 'jealous'. You weren't jealous of how everyone liked her. You were jealous of how she acted with your boyfriend, Trying to get close to him every time they were together.

Swatting your presence away when you two stood near each other. She was a bitch, you could see it clearly. Yet you couldn't muster up the courage to say something. Swiping her off like she was nothing but a pest, She was one infact.

You watched her small tantrums when Hobie denied going somewhere with her. Bluntly stating how you were the only one for him straight to her face. You felt proud to hear that melody fall from his lips. Yet she never gives up that easily it seems.

She started crossing the line, Touching his arm as you watch him pull away. Annoyance plastered on your face as he walks towards Gwen or Miles for company. You wanted to beat the breaks off that bitch for making your man feel uncomfortable.

She was a two-faced slut who'd probably only wanted to get into Hobie's pants. The thought sickening you as you resist the urge to punch her. Simply walking up to her and speaking like a normalized citizen.

"He's mine. A bitch like you can't have him." She just scoffed, Lying to your face as she doesn't understand what you were talking about. A fake smile plastered on her face as she reapplied her makeup.

You were inches away from making her bleed if Hobie didn't stop you. His fingertips intertwined with yours as he asked if you were hungry. You silently agreed, your blood still boiling as you say fuck it, turning around and punching the shit outta her.

Hobie stopped you, his hand gripping tightly onto your arm as he pulls you away. Making sure to get further enough, pinning you against the wall. His lips attached to yours as you peer up at him in confusion.

"Took you foreva' to do that luv." You glared at him before pulling him in for another kiss, laughter filling the alley way as you both scurry off, Leaving the bitch too taste her own blood.

//--------------------------------------------------------\\

You both arrived home shortly after, your arms in the air as you stretch out your worries. A hefty sigh escaping you once the tension in your body melts away.

"What's the deal luv?" You hummed as Hobie wrapped his arms around you, planting a kiss on your cheek before setting the food on the kitchen counter. You simply said nothing before following his lead, grabbing your dinner for tonight and sitting on the couch.

Putting something random on TV before enjoying your meal. A few minutes had past since then, The scent of cannabis in the air as you lit a blunt, Letting the drug take you on an adventure.

Soothing music playing in the background, you both were burnt out, silently enjoying each other's company. You weren't even paying attention to the TV, the man below you captivating as he rests on your lap.

You had the urge to shower his face in kisses. Leaning down and planting the first one on his cheek, Letting your lips guide you. Despite Hobie feeling all of them he didn't move, opening his eyes and simply smirking at you. He sat up, pulling you onto his lap before returning the kisses. His cold hands roaming up your shirt.

It led with both of you being naked on the couch. Your nipples pinched between Hobie's fingers as he traced your stomach with kisses. Your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. His tongue flicking your clit, Earning rewards that slipped from your mouth.

His cold lip piercing sending shivers all throughout your body. His tongue parting your folds from one another. Your head in the clouds as he dives his tongue into your cunt. Your back arching off the couch as he fingers your pussy.

Your grip on the couch tightening as you feel your orgasm growing near. Hobie's name unconsciously escaping your lips as you grasp onto his wicks. His hands holding your hips down firmly as he assaults your clit with his tongue piercing.

A loud cry filling the air as you cum all over his face. You eyes seeing colors as your orgasm hits you harshly. A groan leaving the man below you as you clasp your knees together.

A hum overstimulating you as Hobie slowly pulls away. His chest heaving heavily as he takes in a deep breath. Cooing you back from your euphoria by slapping your cunt, Earning more whimpers from you.

Your legs being pinned down as the tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, Stretching you out. The thickness of his dick sending your nerve systems into a frenzy. Feeling every inch of him as he slows down. Putting a pillow under you before he'd started to abuse your pussy, Giving it a harsh slap as he puts pressure on your clitoris.

Lovely incoherent words emitting from you as you plead him to go faster. Your pussy clenching around him as you try to pull him in deeper. Soft mewls crumbling from you as you grasp onto his forearm. Your eyes seeing the back of your eyelids as he kisses your cervix.

Nails digging into his skin as you feel your second orgasm already approaching. Your shortened breath making your throat dry.

"H-hobie!" His name slurred from your mouth, Overstimulation taking control as you cum on his cock, Your arousal coating his dick as you twitch violently from the aftermath. Tears swelled in your eyes as Hobie chases his orgasm, Pulling out and cumming all over your abdomen.

His body collapsing onto yours as he gives you a tired kiss. Your eyes seeing black as you slowly succumb to the slumber that took you.

AUTHOR NOTE: I didn't intend to make a small jealousy chapter 🧍🏾‍♀️ I'm running out of ideas

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shuadotcom · 5 months

Text

Smoke & Mirrors (M)

🎡 Summary: You’re feeling uncharacteristically adventurous and your boyfriend just can’t say no to you.

🎡 Pairing: Stoner!Seungcheol x Stoner!Afab Reader

🎡 Genres & AUs: Smut, established relationship au

🎡 Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🎡 Warnings: Marijuana usage, profanity, hair pulling, pet name (baby), dirty talk, blowjob, unprotected sex, mirror sex, sex while high, semi-public sex, creampie

🎡 Words: 3.6k

🎡 Note: Written for @k-vanity's Wanderlust Festival.

Genre/ride: smut - ferris wheel Trope/event: petting zoo - established relationship

Thank you to my beta bby @horanghater mwah 💋

Taglist: @duhnova @gyuwoncheol @multi-kpop-fanfics 💗

“Oh my god. The carnival is in town.” You spring up on the couch from where you’ve been lounging, head in Seungcheol’s lap. He nearly drops the bong in his hands, but manages to keep it in his grasp.

“You wanna…go to the carnival?” He asks, his sentence coming out just slightly slower than usual. Your Saturday date nights with Seungcheol typically consist of getting stoned, watching tv, stuffing your faces, and then fucking a few times, but you’re feeling restless and adventurous tonight and are itching for something else to do.

Saying no to you has never been one of your boyfriend’s strong suits, which is why you make the short walk from your apartment a couple of blocks to the fairgrounds. Living in the city means easy access to things you need and it helps that it’s the middle of fall, so the air is chilly, but not uncomfortably so, making the walk enjoyable.

“What if people figure out we’re…high?” Seungcheol asks after you arrive and purchase your tickets. He looks around and whispers that last part as you file into the entrance.

“They won’t as long as you stop acting suspicious!” Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at you and purses his lips.

“Me? Suspicious?” You blink back at him, two of you having an impromptu staring contest before bursting into a fit of shared giggles. You likely look insane to the people passing by you standing off to the side, doubled over in laughter, but you don't pay them any mind. Seungcheol’s wide smile and infectious laugh are all you can concentrate on.

When you finally get a grip on yourselves, you take his hand and drag him behind you onto each ride you can. Typically, you’d be hesitant about getting on a ride that came out of a suitcase, but the weed makes you more daring and puts you in a good mood. It helps that Seungcheol, who normally would prefer to stay on the ground, goes on each ride with you, even if he’s a little more apprehensive than you.

Seungcheol lets you drag him around to all of the fast-paced rides first: the tilt-a-whirl, the pirate swing, the slingshot ride, bumper cars - anything that satisfies your cannabis-induced need for speed. He even lets you buy some feed to give to a few farm animals in the small petting zoo. Unfortunately, he does need to practically lift you in his arms to lead you away from the piglet you attempt to steal numerous times. (“We can name him Wilbur!” “That pig is not ours, Y/n!” is the last thing the animal’s owner hears, frowning as you’re taken away.)

Between putting your life and trust in the hands of bored looking carnival workers, you and Seungcheol make it a point to eat. You had left your apartment before you got too deep into your munchies stash, so you had to make up for it with as much funnel cake and kettle corn you can inhale without getting sick.

“Can we please go on the ferris wheel?” Seungcheol pouts at you after you finish off your pretzels.

You’re surprised, eyeing the giant wheel a few feet away from the picnic table you’re sitting at.

“You wanna go on the ferris wheel?”

“I need a break from all the fast and furious rides and that’s the only one that will slow your crazy ass down.” He laughs and you can’t help that your eyes stay locked on the way his eyes squint and his nose crinkles when he lets out the sound - one of your favorite sounds.

You relent because of course you do, and you let him take you to the ferris wheel with him. Seungcheol holds his hand out to help you enter the ferris wheel cart then files in after you, the ride worker shutting the door tight behind you. Seungcheol sits close to you in the small box, his thighs pressing against yours as you wait to start your ascent.

Once the ride finally starts to move, you marvel at the way everything beneath you gets smaller and smaller the higher you move, even if it’s slow and easy-paced. Seungcheol glances out the window on his side here and there, but the weed doesn’t seem to be doing enough to ease his mind at the new heights you reach on the wheel.

To distract him, you reach out and hold his hand, startling him, but he recovers quickly and grips your hand. His fingers are cool as they link with yours, his hand soft and secure.

Something in you stirs and you let your eyes wander, refamiliarizing yourself with the shape of his hands. Your eyes trail up to his arm covered in a jacket that isn’t too tight but still hugs his biceps enough. It’s not zipped all the way so you can see his chest underneath, the cotton shirt underneath hugging his defined pecs (and by god are they defined).

It only takes you a few minutes to feel your stomach churns with a familiar need for Seungcheol. You squeeze your thighs together as you eye his neck and up to his face. All of the skin along the way is much too clear and mark-free if you do say so yourself.

He’d taken his beanie off when you got on the ride and you can see how messy his hair is, especially after he ran his hand through it as many times as he did while you waited for the ride to start. You want to run your fingers through the dark strands so bad.

So you do. Seungcheol is surprised but doesn’t shy away from your hand. He does the opposite in fact, bringing his head closer to make it easier for you. Seungcheol has a lot of qualities you like and one of those is how even though he’s usually in charge in the bedroom, it takes little to no time to initiate intimacy with him.

He simply cannot say no to you.

Knowing this, you start to move your hand down, giving his hair one last comb through before grazing your fingers over his thick neck, fingers tapping the sensitive skin as you go. Seungcheol sighs, leaning into your touch and you go down to his bicep, squeezing it as you keep going until your hand lands over the crotch of his sweatpants.

That seems to break Seungcheol from the daze he had slipped into when you started touching him. He looks at you wordlessly, red-rimmed eyes half-lidded but still asking you a million questions. What are you doing? Are you sure? Here?

Wordlessly, you give him your answer by squeezing his already half-hard cock. You’re so damn lucky that weed makes your boyfriend just as needy the same way it does for you.

Seungcheol groans but doesn’t stop you and instead spreads his legs wider, inviting you in.

Without hesitation, your hand slips into the waistband of his sweatpants and his underwear

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, head slowly angling back to the window of the cart.

“Want you so bad, Cheol,” you whisper even though there’s no one around. “Wanna suck your cock. Can I please?”

“Shit, baby of course.” Seungcheol helps you pull the waistband of his sweatpants down enough to expose the opening in his boxers. You fish out his cock, the heaviness of it weighs in your hand and you can feel just how sticky your panties are against you. You have enough sense to glance out of the ferris wheel card window and you notice that you’re still inching at a snail's pace to the top.

Bending over still in your seat, you give the head of Seungcheol’s dick a few kitten licks. A deep sound rumbles in his chest and it almost makes you moan in response just hearing him.

But time is of the essence, so you swallow him down your throat in one go, the man bucking his hips and yelping in response. His hands fly to your hair, fingers weaving into the base of your strands to tug.

Moaning at the slight sting, you bob your head, letting his dick slide against your tongue, making sure to hollow your cheeks as you work him. Seungcheol loves it when you gag around his length so you do it for him, letting his cockhead nearly hit the back of your throat each time you bring your head down.

“Fuck, babe. You’re so fucking good at sucking my cock…” his words draw out as he starts to fuck your face, albeit lazily. You hum out affirmatively around him, your pussy clenching at the praise.

Your hands wrap around all of him that you can’t take, moving in tandem with your head as you gulp him down, listening to his heavy grunts echo off of the cart walls. It mixes with the wet sound of your mouth working him up and taking him in over and over again.

When Seungcheol starts to pant frantically, you know he’s close.

“Mmm, want you to cum in my mouth,” you drawl around his length, only coming up for a big gulp of air and to tell him what you want.

“W-wait, I wanna fuck you.” The fingers that are tangled in your hair still as he tries to lift you from his cock.

You let him fall from your mouth and sit up, pouting at him. “I don’t think there’s enough room, Cheol.” He seems to remember where you are and how small the space you’re in is.

“Y/n, I can’t wait till we get back to your place. I might cum in my pants on the walk back.”

The thought makes you giggle which earns you a sharp smack on your thigh. You can feel the sting through your leggings and it only serves to make you wetter, your panties inevitably a complete mess.

“Hmm…how about when the ride is up if you can find someplace to fuck me we can do it here.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Seungcheol’s expression turns serious, clearly a man on a mission. He finally turns to take in the ground beneath you, scanning for some place, any place, to take you away from prying eyes. Just long enough to fill you with his seed and watch the look on your face as you cum all over him - for him.

The ferris wheel is beginning its descent as he tucks himself back into his pants and you think he sees something that may be promising, a determined look on his face. When you safely reach solid ground and your cart door opens it’s his turn to drag you around the grounds.

You walk past plenty of rides with their bright lights and loud sounds trying to distract you from what you both want - no, need - right now. All of the booths and rides seem to be running and packed with patrons, nowhere private in sight as of yet.

The answer comes to you when the two of you stumble upon a mirror maze attraction. The building has a ‘closed’ sign on the front doors which are assumedly locked tight.

This doesn’t deter Seungcheol as he simply sneaks with you around the building, looking for some way to get you both inside. When he finds that the back door to the attraction is way too conveniently unlocked, you think of it as a gift from the universe. The universe obviously wants you two to fuck and has handed this to you.

Seungcheol holds your hand tight as he goes into the door first, tiptoeing into a back room, presumably where workers would be when the attraction was live. There is another door that leads you right into the maze. The lights are dim, but they’re on and you can’t help but wonder if someone plans on coming in here at some point.

He takes you far enough into the attraction that you’re surrounded by nothing but yourself, but you’re still close enough to where you came in. The last thing either of you want is to get lost and need to call for help.

“It’s so weird seeing myself so many times. Do I look silly?” You question out loud, eyes sweeping over all of your reflections surrounding you. It makes you a little dizzy seeing so many copies of yourself.

“Of course not, baby. You look as beautiful as always.” Seungcheol’s words echo through your mind when you finally notice he’s behind you now, meeting your eyes through the mirror when you look up.

He's pressed up against your back, his hard cock obvious against you. “So pretty and all mine.” Seungcheol grabs your jaw and turns your head to the side to bring his lips crashing into yours. His tongue immediately pushes through the seam of your lips, wrapping around yours as he grinds against you fully clothed.

You moan into each other’s mouths as his hands move to grab at every part of you - your tits, your stomach, your thighs, your ass. Seungheol explores your body and your mouth and it leaves you as nothing but absolute putty in his hands.

When he pulls away from you, you whine in protest and he places a peck on your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart, but I need to be inside that pussy so badly. You want that too, right?”

“God, yes, please. I need you so bad, Cheol.”

“Fuck yeah, you do. Gonna give you what you need, baby.” He hurries to pull his sweats and his underwear down enough for his length to be free, letting the fabric rest around his thighs. He helps you shimmy your leggings and panties down your legs and drop at your ankles. You’re close enough to the mirror now that Seungcheol bends you over, your hands resting on the cold glass.

“Look at you already, baby. Already dripping for me just from sucking me off and making out?” Seungcheol taps the head of his cock against your ass then down to your pussy lips. He nudges it against your folds once before pulling back, and you whimper at the loss.

“Yes, please, Cheol. Need to feel you. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck, baby and I will.”

Through the mirror you watch Seungcheol bring his hands around you to your mouth, offering you his index and middle finger. “We have to be quick, so can you help me get you ready?”

Without a second thought, you’re nodding and when he brings his fingers around to your mouth, you suck them in greedily, making eye contact with him through the mirror. You suckle on his digits, wrapping your tongue around them just like you did to his dick.

When he deems his fingers sufficiently coated, he pops them out of your mouth and brings them to your sticky folds. His first stop is your clit, rubbing a few circles into the sensitive nub. Your head falls forward as a long, drawn-out squeal leaves you as soon as he makes contact. You’re already so wet and wound up that you don’t think you’ll last very long at this rate. Lucky for you, your boyfriend is at the same point, his breath shuddering as he slides his fingers inside of you, reveling in how warm and tight you are.

Seungcheol’s thick fingers piston in and out of you, scissoring them with each plunge back into your heat. You love the feeling of him prepping you. He always takes his time to get you ready to take him, giving you extra care, but this is different. You’re not in one of your beds or even the car; you have to be quick to avoid getting caught, but you also need him badly.

“Cheol, please just fuck me, please. Can’t wait anymore.”

“I wanna take my time with you, but fuck, I can’t wait either.”

When he pulls his fingers from you, you look up again and through the mirror, you watch him suck on them, eyes fluttering closed momentarily as he savors your taste. Then he’s grabbing at your hips, his cock nudging your entrance.

Your eyes roll back when he finally slips in, sheathing himself perfectly into your walls. The two of you share a noise of pleasure, his much deeper than yours, and you swear you can hear the bass in his voice vibrate through him and into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Seungcheol’s hands take hold of your hips, starting at a pace that already has you breathless. Your palms lay flat against the mirror in front of you, fingers splayed to keep you balanced. He fucks into you frantically and with power, the slaps of his pelvis smacking into your ass sound bass-boosted to your ears and it’s your favorite sound at this moment.

The weed always makes feeling Seungcheol inside of you so much better than it already does when you’re sober. Coupled with how he’s driving into you so quickly and so harshly, you feel that much closer to floating away. All of your senses are on hyperdrive as he pistons his hips harder and harder, only making your cries and mewls for him that much louder as your eyes slip closed.

“God, you sound amazing, baby. But you look even better.” Seungcheol cups your face to keep you focused on the mirror in front of you. “Open your eyes.” It’s a demand, not a question, so you do.

Sweat beads at your forehead, your droopy, red-tinged eyes staring back at you looking wild. Your tits bounce even from underneath your jacket due to Seungcheol’s thrusts. The mirror is fogged up where you’re breathing and your hands keep readjusting to keep you up, leaving sweaty prints in their wake. Seungcheol looks no different behind you. His eyes are tired but still boring into yours with each thrust, his tongue darting out to lick his already saliva-slick lips as his face glistens with sweat.

His broad chest rises and falls underneath his layers and you can’t help but think about just how good he looks when he’s not bundled up. The thought makes you clench around Seungcheol’s dick and it only serves to make him fuck into you harder, shoving his length so deep into you that you swear you feel him in your chest.

“Fuck me, Cheol, fuck gonna cum!” You sob, legs trembling to hold you up as your words slur together.

“Yes, yes, come on, baby, cream all over my fucking dick.” Fingers that know your body almost better than you know yourself reach around you, pressing between your thighs and rubbing your clit.

It takes only a few tweaks to have you falling apart, mouth hanging open as you do your damnedest to bite back the squeal you want to let out. Shockwaves roll over you as Seungcheol’s powerful hips thrust into you one, two, three more times and then he’s cumming too. The warm, sticky feeling of him milking himself into you has your eyes rolling back and your body going lax against the mirror.

With the only sounds now being just you and Seungcheol breathing heavily, you become acutely aware of just how fucked out you look. You wonder if people will be able to tell that your boyfriend just rearranged your guts in such a public place.

“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupts your train of thought by tapping your thigh to bring your attention to him. You meet his eyes in the mirror and he flashes you a warm, reassuring smile. “Let’s get out of here?”

He helps you right yourself and pulls your leggings up, then redresses himself. He takes your hand once more and you’re able to sneak back out of the attraction, easily avoiding getting caught.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you snicker, your earlier adrenaline rush quickly returning now that you’ve gotten away with what you wanted.

“That’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” he mumbles and you agree with him, sharing more laughter with him as you loop your arm through his.

Could you curl up right now and take a nap? Yes. Could you also do a lap around the fairgrounds like a crazy person? Also yes. But, when you catch sight of Seungcheol’s disheveled hair that he’s run his fingers through a thousand times tonight and his red lips that he’s still biting between his teeth, you only want to do one thing.

“We can do something else crazy if you want,” Seungcheol glances over at you, curiosity written all over his face as he takes in your words.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Mmm, well the outdoor loveseat on my patio is spacious enough for both of us. And there’s a chance someone could see us up there if you were feeling up to being daring again.”

“Since when were you so open to exhibitionism?”

“Since I let you fuck me in a closed-down carnival attraction that anyone could’ve walked into at any time.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip again and you want so badly to have that be your tongue on him.

“Let’s go back to your apartment,” he finally decides (not that it takes him very long to do so). “But I wanna eat you out first. Gotta have you ride my face for everyone to see.” His words go straight to your cunt, wetness already pooling and mixing with his cum still tucked inside of you.

And just like that, you’re thanking the past, much more stoned you for feeling adventurous. You have a feeling after tonight, even more adventures await you and Seungcheol, and all of them more than likely involve you crying out his name.

You can’t wait.

Net tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf

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