#they end up meeting up just for drinks and a laugh as often as they meet up to fuck
AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.
Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.
Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 8.1k
A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-
The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father.
Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.
And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.
Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-
“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”
You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close?
You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was.
Oh.
At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”
You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”
“Oh? Here with anyone?”
“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”
You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you.
“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”
“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.
He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.
Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.
“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you.
“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”
You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.
“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting.
And oh was it interesting.
Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.
Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion.
All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.
So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second.
“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.
You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”
“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”
“Satoru.”
“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”
Ah, there it was.
It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?
“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”
“Hey!”
Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?
Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought.
It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were.
“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh.
After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.
Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-
Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often.
“Ah! Wha- Sato-”
You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart.
Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards.
Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-
“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach.
“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment.
Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”
And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son.
You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”
He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”
“Why? Jealous?”
“Yes.”
You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”
“Fucking yes.” There it was again.
But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”
“What do you-”
“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined.
Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”
A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”
And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop.
Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.
His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not.
Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner.
Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.
“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-
“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”
Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.
You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again.
But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you.
Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom.
“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat.
Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting.
You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?
Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.
It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”
Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have.
As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?
Turning to the mirror and-
Oh. Shit.
You better have brought your make-up remover.
God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.
Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.
With a groan, he leans against the shut door. Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?
Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily.
Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?
Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously.
Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins.
“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.”
And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”
Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing.
But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way.
“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”
He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.
“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.
What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.
“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest.
Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-
And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.”
Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb.
“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.”
God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him.
Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full.
So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.
And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that.
“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”
“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”
And then he’s cumming.
A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-
You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-
You, at the arm of his father.
Shit, he needs to shower. Again.
---
Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed.
At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father.
But that was exactly the problem.
Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out.
And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself.
But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.
Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right?
You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?
But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.
“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”
That wasn’t your sugar daddy.
Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice.
Success.
“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.
“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”
Oh.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?
You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”
It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”
“Aww, must be some important business.”
He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”
“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would.
“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”
And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.
The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you.
Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck.
All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips.
“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”
“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth.
Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission.
Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”
And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find.
“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”
Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight.
Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away.
Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”
Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy. Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet.
“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.” he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting.
“You were the one that-”
And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds.
And then it was like something snapped.
Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams.
“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”
But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.
And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”
“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-
“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue.
“W-what?”
“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”
You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”
And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before.
Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him.
Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it.
“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls.
Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-
“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face.
“Mhm?”
“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”
He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”
And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him.
And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high.
Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do.
Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip!
And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one.
Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you.
“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”
And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.
Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed.
“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.
“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”
You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin.
Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.
“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.”
Shit had you said that out loud?
Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you.
Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs.
And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh.
“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”
“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need.
You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”
“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”
“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”
He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.
“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”
“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now.
Of course, you were not one to be out-done.
Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-
“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”
“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle.
“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth.
“I’d make you cum harder.”
Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet.
“So, better than him or not?”
But shit was it hard.
Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”
And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards.
“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”
With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips.
You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-
“Who’s got you feeling this way?”
“You, Toru.”
And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust.
But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch.
“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in.
“No.”
“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”
“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.”
One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing.
And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all.
“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”
And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?
“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.
And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”
His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”
You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”
“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”
And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you.
“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”
You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life.
“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”
You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”
“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”
Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high.
Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you.
And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough.
Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams.
Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven.
That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”
A/N. How we feeling???
Plagiarism not authorized.
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I love the way you smell
ironstrange 😇
I couldn’t resist doing this as an A/B/O fic. I do love that trope, and scent is such a big part of it. 😀
This is not connected to my other A/B/O drabbles. It’s also not relevant which of them is the alpha and which is the omega in this particular scene. You may imagine them as you choose! 😀
-
Tony circulates through the crowd at the alpha/omega mixer more or less on autopilot. There isn’t a lot of turnover at high security mixers like this one; most of the people here know each other already. They keep coming because someone finds their match just barely often enough to give the rest of them hope. They’d all have better luck at a more publicly available event, but Tony had tried that once since becoming Iron Man and ended up needing the armor to get out again.
Celebrity does have its downsides.
Finishing his drink, Tony is considering heading back to the bar when someone behind him says, “Excuse me.”
Turning, Tony smiles. “Stephen! Fancy seeing you here. Wizard Academy doesn’t run their own mixers?”
“Tony!” Stephen looks startled, for all that he was the one to address Tony first. “They do, but I thought I should branch out.” He pauses and then says, “I didn’t actually realize it was you until you turned around.”
“Then why—” Tony breaks off as realization dawns. They’ve only really interacted in professional settings until now, which means they were both politely wearing scent blockers. But tonight…
Stephen nods. “I caught your scent,” he says.
Tony’s heart rate kicks up a notch. “Would you like to double check?” he asks, gesturing at his throat.
“Please.”
Tony lifts his chin in invitation and Stephen steps in close, leaning down until he can trail his nose delicately up the line of Tony’s throat toward his jaw. Tony shivers at the prickle of sensation and inhales deeply, catching a hint of Stephen’s scent as he does. It’s smokey, a little like incense, and Tony enjoys the thread of it, though he knows it’s only the top notes.
When Stephen pulls back his eyes are dark and his lips parted, like he’s still trying to pull in Tony’s scent. Silently, he tilts his head in invitation.
Up close, Stephen’s smokey scent takes on tones of honey and something else, something sharper. Tony finds his eyes closing as he breathes it in. No one has ever smelled this good. He doesn’t want to retreat, doesn’t want to return to polite conversation. He wants to taste.
“Tony,” Stephen murmurs, his voice a low rumble.
“I love the way you smell,” Tony says softly.
“The feeling is mutual.” Stephen’s hands come to rest on Tony’s hips. “Perhaps we could take this somewhere more private?”
That’s enough motivation for Tony to pull away enough to meet Stephen’s gaze. He’s smiling, eyes bright. It hits Tony all of a sudden, what all of this means: He’s found his mate.
“Your place or mine?” Tony says, waggling his eyebrows, and Stephen laughs.
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punctured tires and sunsets.
jean kirstein x reader, modern a.u. , roadtrip headcanons!
requested by ; @jeanscremebrulee
a/n ; this kinda just turned into an unofficial fic :') i LOVED writing it tho!! thank you so much for the request :D also! there's alot of mentions of jeans music taste in this fic so here's a playlist I made with songs I think he listens to :) I know it's too late to say this but happy jean bday day to you guys <3 he's so find I won't him so bad
warnings ; none!
taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes .
main masterlist ✿ enter my taglist ! ✿
• obnoxious packer. he has ALL the snacks because he has always been used to packing alot of snacks because of...reasons (ahem, sasha) but he also packs alot in general. not in an anxious way, he just likes the volume, it makes him feel like he has everything he needs (he doesn't). he has the most useless shit in there but would 100% forget to pack his underwear.
• best believe he has a really amazing playlist lined up. he asked you to join a collab one a couple days before the trip just so you two could have premium music playing on the day of :)
• I have this headcanon/trope that none of his plans ever go right for him...like he plans stuff to the t but they always end up going awry from the midway mark and this is no exception. the plan was to reach his mother's houss by dinner time, so that the two of you + his mom could unwind with a glass of wine before going to bed after a hearty dinner that jean was sure she was planning to make for you both. while on the way to her place though, there's a really pretty beach that jean has been wanting to show you ever since the beginning, so the two of you would make a pitstop just around sunset time so that the weather wouldn't be too hot and you'd get to see the pretty sky with him, you'd spend a bit of time there, and after the sun sets, you'd resume driving. his mom's house wasn't that far from there, thankfully, so it would've taken an hour or less to reach.
• things actually are surprisingly going according to plan!! until the tire punctures and you two have to wait for help to arrive. thankfully it's only noon at this point, and jean thinks you'll still be able to make it to the beach and see the sunset after getting help. and you're also helping him maintain his cool by telling him that it's not as if you're on a time sensitive mission or anything; you two can take your time since you're just going to meet his mom for the long weekend
• it does help him quite a bit!! the road is extremely empty since it's not one that's taken often, people usually take the highway too much resulting in traffic, but this road is direct and jean discovered it his first year of college
• so you wait :) everytime jean calls the mechanic, he tells him there's been a "delay", and someone will be there shortly. meanwhile, you two share the sandwiches you had packed and decide to spend the time talking and playing some music. the sandwiches are balanced on the front of his car over a picnic blanket, along with some redbull and your prefered drink that he had packed for the way.
• he has a mouthful of sandwich when you're telling him a funny story about your childhood friends, and he chokes on the sandwich as he tries to not laugh. you have to pat his back in between laughs of your own so that he doesn't inhale the food and die.
• the playlist plays on a loop, the weather is surprisingly not too hot, with the occasional wind blowing in your face reminding you that nature isnt that cruel. the two of you add more songs and you have to surpress a smirk when you add like,,, 2000's pop songs. lady gaga, taylor Swift's older songs, Katy Perry, imagine dragons, all that
• jean, on the other hand, adds songs that he wants to slow dance with you to. everytime he tries to be romantic at home and pull you in for a dance, you two are reminded how cramped the room is, and you have to try not to step on his feet. the last time the two of you tried to dance together in your living room, he ended up stubbing his toe and falling on you because of it :') and then he tried to brush it off by saying that that was his plan from the beginning, and it resulted to a week's worth of teasing from you everytime he tried to walk near the same table
• so now that you have all of this empty space, he adds cute cheesy songs with the intention of pulling you in, disregarding your complaints of you not knowing how to dance.
• it's a nice mix of songs that make you want to twerk and/or reminisce the times the songs you added were popular, and slow dancing with giggles in between. both of you get to do what you want in the end, the playlist being put on shuffle.
• jean and you scream sing hot n cold by Katy Perry, shouting in eachother's faces as if you're an old married couple bickering, acting out the music video in some bits. and then after the song finishes, the next song just so happens to be more than a woman by the bee gees (ofcourse)
• let me set the scene : the two of you are holding your drinks in your hand, taking a sip after singing the song to eachother, laughing, he takes a sip of his redbull that he has to stop himself from wincing because of it being warm and not chilled. and then more than a woman comes on, and his eyes light up mid-sip as he turns to face you almost immediately. you do the same, you brows shooting up and a knowing look on your face.
• "you know the rules,* he says, placing the redbull on the car, taking your hand in his and pulling you in softly. "of I step on your toe, it-" " you won't. spin," he says, pulling apart from you a little so you had the space to do it. he tells you about how his mother used to play this song every Sunday while making pancakes for him on slow mornings, and she'd make a passing comment about how she'd have loved to dance to the song on her wedding day if she had the chance. jean told you that he had made a mental promise that he would dance with his future partner on his wedding day to the song, and it only added to his love for the song.
• you had to refrain yourself from kissing him senseless after he told you about it, instead opting for a hum with a wide and soft smile, resting your forehead on the crook of his shoulder.
• ANYWAY, the two of your spend the time like that, dancing and talking while the music plays in the background. the hours pass by fairly easily, munching on the snacks you had packed
• jean does get a little ansty near the 6 o clock mark. not only had the mechanic promised to be here by now, the time to reach the beach was running out :( he'd already called his mom and told her that they probably wouldnt make it in time for dinner, so somewhere deep down he kinda knew that you two wouldn't be able to catch the sunset anyway.
• noticing his disappointment, you spoke up after he called his mother. she understood, of course, told him it was fine and she'd wait up for you two anyway, with the same meal she had planned.
• "we still have the blankets we packed for the picnic. and the pillows, too." you say. jean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "i know, I'm sorry, we had to pack that for no reas-" "no, I mean, we can pop open the trunk and set it up. the sun is going to set on this side," you say, pointing your thumb out, taking a step towards him and taking a hold of his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his palm. "we can still watch the sunset. i know its not what you wanted to show me, but it's alright, I don't mind. i got to spend time with you, anyway, and besides, we can try to catch it while coming back home." you tell him.
• his shoulder relax and his eyes soften immediately, pecking your lips and agreeing with you. and so it's settled; you two open the trunk and set up the blanket and pillows so you could sit comfortably, your phone playing the songs still, albeit softly. you pop open another energy drink for him and then one for yourself, he stretches his limbs before settling in with you.
• it's beautiful. the sun sets with your head on his shoulder and his pride is too inflated to admit that this was far prettier than watching the same scene at the beach, although he knows it's mostly because of you being there with him. he occasionally lays kisses on the crown of your head with you humming along to the songs.
• the mechanic arrives just as it starts getting dark, before too much panic settling in the both of you about the lack of light. he replaces the tire, jean pays (obviously he does), and you two continue driving. thankfully, it's not that bad, and despite the caffeine in your body, you doze home with the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest.
• jean glances at you from time to time, and everytime a song he knows you'd like comes on, he gently kisses the back of your hand :)
• you two reach far later than expected, he has to wake you up softly, greeting you with a kiss. he doesn't let you touch any of the luggage, preferring to haul the bag himself. not that it's hard for him. after eating the meal his mother made, he promptly falls asleep on the couch as you and his mom talk with the promised glass of wine on the floor.
(his mother leaves to get the bottle for a refill, coming back to your eyes closed, your back against the couch, your face turned towards jean. she obviously takes a picture to put in her photo album.)
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i’m in this discord group server. it’s filled with people i’ve known for like a decade. we’ve been mutuals here on tumblr since way back when. i just realized it’s been a while since i’ve gotten any notifications from the server. so i checked it out. everyone except a few people had either left the server or deleted their accounts.
this is the shit that makes me so sad. i’m too sentimental. i have other ways to contact a couple of them, but a lot of them i’ll probably never talk to again. and it’s is doubly sad because this server was what made me join discord and i joined at a pretty dark time in my life and they all specifically invited me to give me some sort of emotional support and we honestly had a lot of fun. there were great times had. lots of late night conversations. sometimes serious ones but sometimes just shooting the shit.
and it just gave me a weird feeling to see the server so empty. the last message being from months ago. everyone gone. where did they all go? it just happened slowly over time. one by one people left or deleted for whatever reason. the last message is the server owner just saying “it’s been a good run”.
i remember reading some poem about a person standing in some ballroom or something after a great celebration. everyone was gone and it was just the narrator. that’s how this makes me feel. i feel like i’m the last one in the ballroom after a long night of laughter and cheer. i don’t know what the poem is called or whom it’s by. if you know please tell me. i’ve been looking for it for years.
i think i have a disorder that makes me too sentimental or something.
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The Girlfriend Experience
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill.
Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise
Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!
A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting.
“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.
“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”
“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.
“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”
“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”
“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”
“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives.
This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.
“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.
“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”
You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells.
There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way.
“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”
You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.
When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.
After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.
It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t.
“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.
Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.”
“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”
She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this.
“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand.
You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin.
“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”
“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot.
“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”
“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.
“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”
You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl.
“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”
“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend.
“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.”
“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him.
“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.
“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”
“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort.
Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment.
“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”
He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity.
“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”
“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”
The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair.
Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.
“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world.
When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”
Still no reply.
“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.”
“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced.
Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”
“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”
“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head.
“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”
“Huh?”
“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something.
“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.
“No.”
“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.
“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”
“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one.
“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan.
“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“
“No,” you cut him off.
“WHA-“
“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”
“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him.
“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”
“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve.
“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”
“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.
This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience.
After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date.
After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.
As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too.
Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory.
“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”
It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.
“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel.
“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up.
On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date.
“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”
He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest.
You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation.
“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question.
“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”
“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”
“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.
Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.
“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”
“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.��
“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”
“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes.
“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious.
“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”
“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up.
“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!”
You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever.
“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.”
He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him.
Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date.
“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to.
“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting.
“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”
The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius.
“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home.
“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”
“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”
Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n.
Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into.
“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”
“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space.
“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”
“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment.
“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”
“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”
“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble.
“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”
“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”
“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”
“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly.
“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks.
The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch.
“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”
“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”
“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”
“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”
He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle.
“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet.
“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat.
“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”
‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.
You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.
“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,”
He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it.
He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.
As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him.
“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”
The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it.
Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.
Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve.
He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing.
As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway.
“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat.
He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood.
You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.”
The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed.
You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon.
Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you.
But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never.
You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share.
“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.
After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home.
“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”
“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly.
“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.”
You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view.
He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?
On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again.
He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date.
Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’.
You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago.
“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it.
“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend.
The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection.
“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.
“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”
He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”
To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.
“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”
Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section.
After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic.
Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides.
You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.
Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you.
As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos.
“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure.
“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.
“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.
“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass.
“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears.
Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic.
“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”
Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches.
“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.
Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else.
You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake.
“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”
“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.
“From bugs?”
“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”
“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”
You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.
“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.
“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh.
“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”
You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.
After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did.
It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom.
The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless.
Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you.
Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.
What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.
“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.”
You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.
“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.
“Am I what?”
“Are you asking me?”
“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice.
“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.
Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.
Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention.
Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully.
He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable.
While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.
“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”
“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”
“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”
He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down.
“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means.
“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”
Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.
“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”
As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.
Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.
“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”
“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”
“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”
“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.
“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”
“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”
You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid.
The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’
A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else.
It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak.
Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.
Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt.
“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink.
There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place.
“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.
“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”
“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”
You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise.
Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.
“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide.
“Oh, I was just waiting for-“
“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.
Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“
“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.
Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.
“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.
“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.
He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same.
“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.
“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”
“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question.
“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”
“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”
A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time.
“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.
“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”
You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts.
“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”
“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.
“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him.
He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board.
“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts.
As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways.
“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”
You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been.
“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.
You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder.
“Oh my god, fuck off!”
You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.
Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say.
“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.
“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking.
“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”
“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.
“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”
Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you.
“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago.
“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be.
“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."
“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”
Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.
“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you.
It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire.
“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink.
“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”
Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions.
“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss.
He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.
Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.
He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time.
“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.
“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.
You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.
He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear.
Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you.
“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”
Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink.
“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole.
The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”
Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”
“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”
“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win.
“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”
“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”
If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in.
The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.
He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck.
“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”
Jackpot.
A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand.
“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up.
Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough.
He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering.
“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”
Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again.
“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”
The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin.
“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”
“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.
“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”
You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this.
His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together.
Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs.
Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea.
If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.
“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”
He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this.
Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next.
You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van.
“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes.
“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”
“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”
You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap.
As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh.
“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret.
“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”
You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass.
“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him.
You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.
He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.
The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door.
Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.
You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right.
And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.
“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding.
You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.
Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level.
Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting.
He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times.
You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.
You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach.
All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him.
The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.
“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips.
After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon.
You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.
Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you.
“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.
He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft.
“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not.
“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”
Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants.
“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.”
“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat.
“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”
You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it.
Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him.
“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”
The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.
Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips.
“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment.
Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls.
You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss.
In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself.
“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.”
He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides.
You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room.
Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end.
“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply.
It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is.
Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck.
“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets.
“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs.
In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going.
The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.
“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets.
He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.
Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch.
His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips.
Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees.
He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you.
He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most.
Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder.
“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.
“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.
“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch.
His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt.
“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”
The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls.
“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair.
Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter.
Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other.
Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.
“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”
Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head .
“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“
A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core.
As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit.
He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face.
When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants.
“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate.
“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds.
“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right.
He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked.
“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.
“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.”
“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.
He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched.
“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you.
“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”
“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his.
You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.
“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole.
“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again.
“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes.
“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him.
He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.
As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.
“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”
“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”
His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back.
You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set.
Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.
“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck.
“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine.
He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain.
“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach.
And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.
His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.”
When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line.
“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”
With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you.
The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent.
Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment.
He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.
Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again.
“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper.
“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”
Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose.
“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means.
“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”
His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him.
The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up.
When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up.
His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.
Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you.
You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you.
You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle.
You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal.
Apparently not,
Days pass, and no call.
It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response.
After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring.
Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door.
“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say.
“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”
“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”
“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did.
You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say.
“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson.
“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”
Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you.
“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”
“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”
He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“
You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”
“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.
At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart.
“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”
“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”
You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you.
“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”
“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”
“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”
“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”
“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”
Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties.
Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom.
“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.”
You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy.
“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”
You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up.
Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin?
Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.
At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.
And there he is.
In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.
"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.
"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."
You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.
"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."
He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.
"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."
You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.
"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."
He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.
"And I owe you a few dates, for real."
As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.
"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.
"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.
You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.
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Pick You Up
Max Verstappen x reader
Masterlist
Summary: when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls. Word Count: 6.7k
Warnings: alcohol, intoxication, maybe an unhealthy relationship with alcohol??, mentions of Max’s shitty childhood, incorrect taylor swift lyrics
It’s 1am, and your phone is buzzing on the nightstand. You groan and shove your face into the pillow. You were having such a nice dream. Something about an island and a very attractive man. You let the phone ring until it stops, and then you hold your breath. Maybe it was a butt dial. Maybe it’s not what you think.
The buzzing starts again, and you blindly slam your hand onto the nightstand, grabbing for it. You swipe to answer without even looking at the contact. You already know who it is. Or at the very least, who they’re calling you about. It’s never anyone else.
“Max needs a ride,” a friend of his says.
You’re already rolling out of bed. “Yeah. Where?”
You could complain, you suppose, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket. You could ask them to find literally anyone else, or beg them to have a designated driver for once, but instead you just slip your shoes on. You rub the sleep from your eyes and grab a Red Bull on the way out the door. Someone sends you an address from a number you don’t even have saved in your phone. Worry claws at your chest.
The truth is, you’ll never complain about Max calling you in the middle of the night, because if he stopped calling you’d worry about who he was relying on. Max is… popular. He’s got a lot of people trying to ride his coattails. He gets invited to events and people buy him drinks and offer him things and then it’s 1am and he’s too drunk to get home on his own. And then he calls you. Or, more often, someone calls you for him.
You pull up in front of the club, and Max is already outside, stumbling on clumsy feet. He lurches towards your car when he sees it, which is a relief, because you hadn’t exactly wanted to get out of the car. You find yourself resenting whoever he was out with for leaving him all alone, but he opens the door and climbs in and you plaster a smile onto your face.
“Hi, schatje,” he slurs, and you muffle a laugh into your shoulder.
“Hi, Maxie,” you say.
This is the only time he calls you things like that. It’s also the only time you can call him Maxie without earning yourself a warning glare, or worse, an elbow to the rib cage. You’ve known him for years, and yet it’s only when he’s wasted that he doesn’t mind the nickname.
“Seatbelt,” you remind him.
He nods and tugs at the belt. You end up having to help him buckle- that happens about 70% of the time. His fingers fumble with the latch as you do so, and he lets out a little huff when you brush his hand away. Once he’s all set, you pat his shoulder lightly and lean back into your seat.
“I’m drunk,” he warns you.
“I know,” you answer.
“So no crazy driving. I don’t want to be sick in your very nice car.”
You laugh and cock your head at him. “This morning you called this car a shitbox.”
He nods. “It is. But it is your shitbox.”
You laugh again, putting the car into drive. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
He rambles the whole drive to his apartment, about all the people he was out with tonight and what they did and who they did. Drunk Max is a bit of a gossip, and his gossiping to you won’t get him in trouble, so he takes full advantage of it. You listen eagerly the entire time, though you keep your eyes focused on the road. He’s not the most drunk you’ve ever seen him, still too drunk to be in a cab or an Uber by himself but coherent enough that the journey up to his apartment shouldn’t be too difficult. You park your car in his parking lot and climb out.
Max is halfway out of his seat when you come around to meet him. You take his hand and help him the rest of the way up. He stumbles a bit, laughing as you catch him. Then he throws his arm around your shoulder and follows you to the elevator.
His head bumps into yours in the process. You lean into the weight of him, the two of you standing like a badly built lean to. If one of you topples, the other will too. You try not to think about that too much.
You stay the night, the way you always do when this happens. Because the only thing a hungover Max hates more than the sunlight is waking up to an empty apartment. You’ll be there in the morning to take care of him. He’ll promise he won’t do it again.
By this time next week, he’ll be out at a club, and you’ll have the volume on your phone turned up.
…..
The next time someone calls you on Max’s behalf, it’s someone you actually know. It’s 2am this time, and your eyes are closed. You’re drifting in that space between consciousness and dreams. Your ringtone almost becomes a part of a half dream before you realize what it is. You turn the phone over. NoRizzz, it reads. You think Max added the contact for you.
You answer. “Hi, Lando. S’it Max?” You ask.
“I swear to god I lost track of him for one second-“ Lando rushes out.
You pause halfway out of bed, feeling a jolt of worry at the frantic tone in his voice. “Lando?”
“He’s gone, he-“ He sounds panicked. “I turned around and he’s-“
“Did you call him?”
“Of course I called him-“ Lando scoffs. “Look, I wouldn’t be so worried if I hadn’t already been thinking about having you pick him up-“
“Hey, hey, slow down,” you say, though your heart is racing as you head for the door. “Where are you? How long has it been since you lost him?”
“We’re at Jimmyz, it’s been a half hour,” Lando admits. “I didn’t want to bother you, but-“
A half hour is a long time for Max. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He could’ve walked, or taken a cab, or… anything. Sober Max is great at self preservation. Drunk Max is easily persuaded. You’ve used it to your advantage more than you’d like to admit. Not in any bad way, just- Max, sing karaoke with me! Max, come dance with me! Max, we should order pizza!
You head for the front door. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll come meet you, and then-“
You swing the door open and nearly scream when something heavy tumbles into your apartment. Someone, actually, upon further inspection. It’s Max, lit only by the dim hallway light and a beam from the kitchen light that you always leave on. He’s blinking up at you from the floor, a soft smile on his face. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. His skin is damp with sweat.
“Never mind, I found him,” you say into the phone.
“What? How?” Lando asks, bewildered.
“He was sitting in front of my door,” you answer as you crouch down. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, and Max smiles. “Must’ve taken a cab or something.”
“I walked,” Max admits.
That explains the sweat. That also tells you that Lando has lied to you- Max has been gone much longer than a half hour if he’s made his way here on foot. You choose not to call the other driver out on it, though. You want them to call you about things like this. If you chew him out, Lando will be less likely to do so.
“So he’s okay?” Lando asks.
“He’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll talk to you later.”
You hang up and then start working on getting Max all the way into the apartment. He’s not much help. You manage to get his legs inside and then you close the door behind him. You’ll work on getting him out of the hallway next. For now, you sit down on the floor next to him.
“You walked here?” You ask.
He nods. “Missed you.”
You snort out a laugh. “You could’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up.”
He shrugs and shuts his eyes. “Didn’t want to bug you.”
“So you camped out in front of my door,” you say.
“Yes. But then you didn’t have to come pick me up.”
“I’ll always pick you up,” you say, brushing your thumb against his temple. “That’s what friends do.”
When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy. Your breath hitches. Max doesn’t get teary often, doesn’t get emotional often. Something aches in your chest. You rub your thumb over his cheekbone. He blinks once, twice, lashes tangled together.
“You okay?” You ask.
“Yeah.” He sounds so small when he says it. “Just. Thanks.”
There are these small moments, when Max shows a vulnerable side. These are the moments you think of when people spread vitriol towards him on the internet and ask how you could possibly be friends with him. They make you love him even more, and they make you resent the adults who were around him when he was growing up.
You’ve seen pictures of little Max, shown to you with funny anecdotes and teasing smiles. But when you look at them, and when you see him like this, you can’t find any of it funny. All you can think of is the other stories you’ve heard about his childhood. All you can wonder is how someone could’ve done those things to him. And then you wonder how despite it all, he ended up with such a kind soul.
Max is the one who brings you soup when you’re sick. He brings you trinkets from every country he goes to- the magnets fill the door of your fridge. Max sends you pictures of dogs he meets on the street even though he’s a cat person. He flies you out to races when you’ve had a bad week and buys you good pasta and better tequila. Max has a heart the size of a whole continent. People keep trying to chip away at it. You hate them for it.
So you take a moment to brush the tears from his cheeks. You don’t ask him why he’s crying, or tell him it’ll be okay. You just sit there on the floor with him in your hallway and wait for him to be ready.
Eventually, you get him up off the floor and drag him into your bedroom. It’ll be better for everyone involved if he gets a good night’s sleep in a real bed. You try to leave the room, but he grabs onto your wrist.
“Stay?” He asks, eyelids barely open.
You hum and brush the hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”
“M’sure,” he says. “Don’t wanna be alone.”
You nod in understanding. You don’t even bother pointing out that he’s on your side of the bed. He’s too far gone to get him to roll over. You just climb over him and pull the blankets back and then tuck yourself in. You keep a respectable distance from him.
You know in the morning you’ll wake up to his arm around your middle and his face buried in your neck. You know because it happens every time you share a bed. Max will act like there’s nothing weird about it, will thank you for taking care of him, and be on his way before lunchtime.
You’ll crawl back into bed and curl up on your side, unsure of if you love or hate the fact that the sheets still smell like him.
…..
Charles calls you from Qatar.
You answer. “Charles, I cannot pick him up. I’m in another country.”
“Yes, I’ve told him that about a billion times,” Charles says. “He is very stubborn, you know.”
Something dawns on you as you sit up against your headboard. For some reason, you’ve always assumed that other people are the ones choosing to call you. That even when it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they’re getting your information from the emergency contact info in his phone. But this… Charles seems to be suggesting that Max has asked him to call you.
“Is he okay?” You ask.
Charles laughs. “He’s fine. He is a world champion, again. You know.”
You do know. You called and congratulated him right after the race. You can still hear the shake in his voice, the yelling of his team behind him. It’d made your heart ache, made you sad you weren’t there with him.
“Yeah,” you say. “You both still have to drive tomorrow, you know.”
“I do know, which is why I’m hoping you can help me,” Charles says. “We’re in his hotel room. His phone is dead, I guess? He came to use mine, so I brought him back here. He’s lost his charger.”
“There’s a spare one in his backpack,” you tell Charles. “In the small pocket.”
You hear the zipper and Charles’ amused laugh. “Did you pack his bag for him?”
“I helped,” you admit. “Let me talk to him and I’ll see if I can talk him down?”
Charles makes a noise of agreement. There’s rustling, then a thud. More rustling. You pinch the bridge of your nose.
Then, Max. “Hi.”
“Hi, Max,” you answer. “I thought you were going to take it easy tonight.”
“I am a world champion,” he says, so matter of fact.
In the background, you hear Charles groan.
“Yes, a world champion who still has to do a race tomorrow,” you remind him.
“I know. Can’t believe I got it in the sprint. A sprint I didn’t even win,” he says, laughing lightly. “Let the rookie win the race tomorrow. I’m the champion.”
“I’m going to throttle him,” Charles says, loud enough or close enough for you to hear. “I think in turn one I will run him into the wall.”
“Tell Charles if he hurts one hair on your head I’ll fly to Qatar and throttle him myself,” you tell Max.
Max relays the message. Charles is quiet after that.
“Doesn’t matter how you won it, yeah?” You remind Max. “You still worked just as hard to get there.”
“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say with a laugh. “Charles has plugged your phone in. Make sure you turn it on and then go to sleep.”
You call his hotel and have electrolyte drinks and breakfast sent up the next morning, along with a bottle of painkillers. He texts you a photo of all of it along with a thank you message. When he wins the race, even hungover, you’re not the least bit surprised.
…..
When Max calls you at 11:00 pm, your first thought is huh. That’s early. You answer on the third ring, already looking for your keys. You wonder who it’ll be this time. A friend you know, or an unknown voice of someone he’s only met tonight.
“Schatje?” Max asks through the speaker.
You nearly drop the phone. “Max?”
“What, you don’t have my number saved?” He asks.
“No, of course I do, s’just- not usually you who ends up calling me, even from your phone.”
You think you hear him sniffle. Something twists in your chest. Before you can scramble to apologize, he’s speaking.
“Yeah. Um.” He sighs. “Huh.”
You can hear it in his voice, in the way the words seem to stick in his throat. Something’s wrong. You climb off the couch, headed for the door. “Tell me where you are, Max.”
He sniffs. “No, it’s uh- I don’t know why I called-“
“Max,” you repeat as you shut the front door behind you. “Where are you?”
He gives in and tells you he’s at some hotel bar. You recognize it and head down the stairs. You keep him on the line even as you start the car, as you pull out onto the road. He’s mumbling something about how he’ll be fine, about how you don’t have to come get him. Both of you know you’re already on the way.
You have to go in this time. For a moment you think about asking who else he’s with, and hanging up and calling them. But you don’t want to lose contact, so you park the car and head inside. You’re in a hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of slippers on your feet. Nobody bats an eye.
You find him in a back hallway, squeezed into a corner. Your heart crumples at the sight of him. You’re sure your face does too. He’s teary and curled in on himself. He looks so small. You love him, you worry for him, you hate this version of him. Not that you could ever really hate him. It’s just that he looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself.
As much as you want to get him out of there, as much as it would probably be the right move, you sit down next to him instead. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into your side until his head is against yours. You don’t ask him what’s wrong. He’ll tell you eventually. It might take a while- sometimes a few days. You always give him time. For now, you just sit in the hallway with him. You meet him where he’s at.
He tells you later that he suddenly found himself alone in the bar. After days straight of only being alone when he went to sleep, person after person wanting to celebrate his championship, he’d been alone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like he was suffocating until that moment.
“I was one of the people celebrating,” you remind him as he clings to you.
“But you aren’t suffocating me,” he says. “You’re like… clean air.”
He sleeps in your bed that night. You sleep next to him, not even bothering to argue about it. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breaths and the weight of his hand on your back.
When you wake up in the morning, he pretends he’s fine. You let him.
…..
Drunk Max is an overly honest Max. He’ll tell you anything and everything. So when you’re walking him home one night, his arm over your shoulder, gin on his breath, you’re expecting to learn some things. What you weren’t expecting, however, is for him to lean close, his lips against your ear, and tell you he loves you.
The odd thing is the way he says it. He leans close and tells you he loves you like he’s talking to someone else. He says “hey, you know-“ then he says your name- and then he says, “you know I love her?”
You shove at his side. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.”
He shakes his head, bumping his forehead against your temple. “No, I love her.”
Your heart stops at the way he says it. At the meaning he’s insinuating. Your feet fumble under you, but you manage to keep both of you upright.
“Max,” you say in a warning tone. “You’re drunk.”
“Mm,” he hums. “Drunk in love. Love drunk? Like that song she likes- got love drunk-“
He doesn’t realize he’s talking to you. He likely won’t remember this. You cut him off before he breaks into slightly incorrect Taylor Swift lyrics on the sidewalk. “That’s nice, Max. Why don’t you tell her?”
He shrugs. “Can’t.”
He doesn’t elaborate further, and you miss your chance to prod him about it when he trips over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly sends you both flying. After that, you keep your focus on getting him up to his apartment safely. You shove him into the bathroom in his apartment and tell him to brush his teeth. Then you stand in the hallway and press your hands over your face.
Can’t. Why not? Does he mean it? Did he say the wrong name? He won’t remember it tomorrow, you know that. Do you bring it up? Maybe you should just forget about it. He obviously doesn’t want you to know. And even if it is true, and he does have feelings for you, it would never work.
He stumbles out of the bathroom and presses a messy, toothpaste-y kiss to your forehead. That leaves your brain spinning even worse than it was before. You follow him to the bedroom and tuck him in. The cats glare at you as you disturb the blankets.
“You’ll stay, right?” He asks, tugging on your arm. He seems to know who you are now. “Please?”
You sigh and agree, climbing into bed next to him. He sighs happily and rolls towards you. He slings an arm around your waist, and you hold your breath when he presses his cheek to your shoulder.
“Goodnight,” he says, already half asleep.
“Goodnight,” you echo.
You lay awake and stare at the ceiling for at least an hour, trying not to listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Trying not to think about him admitting that he loves you. Trying not to think about him calling himself love drunk. Trying not to think about him at all, which is difficult with him right there.
You wonder if he really meant it. You want him to mean it, you realize. You tilt your head to look at him- you can only see the top of his head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. God, you want him to mean it. There’s no way he does, but you want it so badly your whole body aches with it.
Sassy walks up to the head of the bed and curls up right next to you. You run your fingers over her fur. Finally, then, you’re able to fall asleep.
…..
It’s not often that Max is the one to pick you up from a bar. It’s every once in a blue moon. You’re much more responsible, you plan ahead. You have a ride home, or you don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk, or you plan to stay with a friend who lives closer to wherever you’re going.
It’s not often, but it does happen. Which is how you find yourself in the bar bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, praying he picks up. There’s a good chance he won’t. He’s definitely not sitting around, waiting for you to call like you always are when he goes out. If he doesn’t pick up you’ll have to call someone else, but you won’t even know where to begin.
It’s only when you hear his voice that you realize you’re not sure he’s even in Monaco.
“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, just- what country are you in?”
“What?” He asks. You can hear rustling in the background. “Is this some sort of code? Is someone-“
“No, Maxie, I’m fine,” you say. “Where are you?”
“Monaco,” he answers, still sounding unsure. “At home. Where are you?”
“Monaco. A bar bathroom,” you answer. “Any chance you’d come pick me up? My designated driver met a guy.”
“Not a very good designated driver,” he says with a scoff.
“Says the guy who never has one,” you retort.
Max laughs and doesn’t argue. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”
Max gets there far too quickly to have been driving at a reasonable speed. He insists that you wait inside rather than meeting him out on the sidewalk, and says he’ll call you when he gets there. The phone rings, so you step outside. You’re thankful once again for his collection of cars and his tinted windows- nobody seems to have realized it’s him. He leans over and opens the door for you, and you climb inside. He already has the heated seat on for you, and he hands you a bottle of water after you sit down.
“Drink,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.
You roll your eyes but do as he says anyways. The city is a blur of lights outside your window, though you know Max isn’t speeding. He always drives carefully with you in the car, no matter how many times you beg him to go fast. You sink lower in the leather seat.
His eyes flicker over to you. “Did you have a good time?”
You shrug. “Yeah, till all my friends ditched me,” you say. “They found guys to hook up with.”
You see Max frown out of the corner of your eye. “And you didn’t? The men in this club must be blind.”
You pick at the hem of your dress. “Maybe I didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Maybe that’s not what I’m looking for.”
“And what are you looking for?” He asks.
He keeps his eyes trained on the road. You turn your head to look at him. You’re at a stoplight, and it paints his face red. You study the slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw. You, you want to say. I’m looking for you. You think of him the last time you picked him up, how he said he loved you. Called himself love drunk. And then you think of when you asked him why he hadn’t told you. Can’t.
So instead, you shrug. Max turns and looks at you, then shrugs in response. You pout, knowing he’s mocking you. His eyes trace over your face, then over the rest of you. You wonder if he’s relying on how drunk you are to make you forget this- hoping you won’t realize or remember him checking you out. He reaches into the backseat and comes back with a large dark hoodie.
“Here,” he says. “You must be cold.”
The light turns green when the sweatshirt is half over your head- you only know because you feel the vehicle lurch into motion. You squeak, and Max laughs and lays a hand on your leg to steady you. His palm is warm against your bare skin.
When you pop your head back out and shove your arms through the sleeves, you expect him to let go. He doesn’t. His hand stays there, a steady presence, the whole ride to his place.
He hasn’t even asked if you want to stay at his apartment- he doesn’t need to, he already knows what your answer would be. Plus, you’re a bit too drunk to really be left on your own. He leads you up to his door, keeping his hand on your lower back to steady your wobbling steps. You’d tried to kick your heels off in the lobby, but Max had insisted you keep them on. You take them off as soon as you walk in his front door, though, sighing in relief. You stumble over to the couch as he sheds his shoes and jacket. By the time he walks into the living room, you’re curled up in the corner, already under a blanket, face pressed against one of his throw pillows. Max clicks his tongue.
“Come on. Up,” he says, tugging at your shoulder. “You should change your clothes and eat something.”
You groan and reach out to wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m comfy. Come cuddle. Comfy.”
He sighs. “We can cuddle. If you change your clothes and eat something.”
The offer leaves you a bit dumbfounded, because Max isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s pretty likely that he’s lying just to appease you, to get you to follow his instructions. So you continue to lay there, trying to pull him in. When you don’t budge, Max huffs, plants his hands on the couch behind you, and straightens up. He does it before you can loosen your grip, so you go with him almost accidentally. He pulls you off the couch and grabs your hips, helping you to stand up.
“There,” he says, as you sigh and lean heavily on him. “Step one. Clothes.”
He leads you to his room, where you eagerly take the opportunity to sit down on his bed. He turns and begins digging through his drawers. You flop back onto the bed. One of the cats paws at your ankles- you don’t bother looking to see which one. Max throws clothing onto your stomach.
“I’ll go make you food,” he says.
It takes you far too long to find the motivation to shed the hoodie and dress and trade them out for whatever clothes Max has left for you. Eventually, though, you do it. He’s given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that are definitely yours, likely left behind whenever you stayed over last. You pull the hoodie back over your head and leave the dress on the floor. It’s only when you remember that Max is awful at cooking that you scramble towards the kitchen.
He’s putting perfectly cooked ramen into bowls. Frankly, it’s hard to mess up ramen, but you’re relieved either way. He smiles at the sight of you, and you think about telling him all over again. The last time you were drunk, you said you loved me. I love you too. We should talk about that. Can’t. Your heart stutters in your chest.
“Thanks,” you say, sitting down at the counter.
You never do get the cuddle he promised. You fall asleep there, forehead pressed to the granite, and Max carries you to the guest room and tucks you in. You swear you feel his lips against your forehead as you fall asleep. But that’s probably just a dream.
…..
By the time you’re in Vegas for the Grand Prix, you haven’t been drunk with Max in months. It’s been one or the other, not both. But since you’re there, Max drags you along to every event he gets invited to. You’re two drinks deep by the time Max makes it to the afterparty. He catches up quickly.
You sneak a sip of his gin and tonic and recoil at the taste. He gives you a blank stare in return.
“You’ve never liked it,” he says. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”
You shrug. “Exposure therapy. And my drink’s empty.”
He gives you a look that’s a mixture of what you think is exasperation and fondness. It’s his signature look when he’s dealing with you on nights out.
“We can fix that,” he says, as he reaches for your hand.
He leads you up to the bar, fingers knit with yours. He doesn’t let go like he normally would. It’s not uncommon for him to hold onto you in a crowd, especially when you’re drunk, but this is different. He leans over the bar and gives your order to the bartender, who nods and moves to make the drink. Max keeps his hand in yours. He finally lets go when you get your drinks, and you take a sip while you look up at him.
His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, blue eyes wide, and you’re trying desperately to read his mind. You want him to let you in so badly.
You end up at a table with him and his driver friends, squished in the booth between Max and Charles. You sip your drink and listen to them talk about race strategy and tires and Vegas in general. Max downs his drink, and someone brings him another. You do the same, and he gets them to bring you one too. And the cycle continues.
This means that by the time he turns to you and says, “we should leave now,” you’re pleasantly drunk, and you’d probably do anything he asked, really.
He slips out of the booth and pulls you along with him, ignoring the people who call his name. He has both of your jackets in his arm as he weaves through the crowds, holding onto your hand. It’s nice, to be here with him, to be a part of it instead of sitting and waiting for a phone call to come pick him up.
As the two of you stumble out onto the sidewalk, you tug on the back of his shirt. “Hey. Who are we going to call to come take care of us? We’re both drunk.”
Max turns and laughs, and then he’s quick to steady you when you stumble on the pavement. “We will take care of each other.”
You nod clumsily, leaning into the feeling of his hands on your hips. “Okay. Yeah. Nice.”
Max tugs you close, tucking you under his arm as he starts to walk down the street. “Lovely.”
“Simply lovely,” you say teasingly. “Where are we going?”
“The hotel,” he says. “I am sick of people.”
You deflate a bit at that. You’re not ready to say goodnight, to say goodbye, to be alone. You want to spend more time with him- it’s why you’re here in Vegas. Max seems to sense your change in mood and squeezes your shoulder, craning his head to look down at you.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Do you want to stay out? We can find another club, I just thought maybe we could order room service, or pizza, and play a game or…”
He trails off as your eyes go wide, the hurt in your chest melting away. He cocks his head.
“I thought you were sick of me, too,” you say, and you bite your lower lip.
Max frowns deeply. The lights behind his head are blurry in your vision. You wonder if you’re just drunk, or if you’re tearing up. The way he swipes his thumb under your eye tells you it’s the latter.
“No,” he says, gently. “Never.”
Your lip wobbles. You shrug. Max seems to understand, and he just squeezes your shoulder again and keeps walking. You try to get your emotions in check. You have to, really, need to be normal about this. He’s just your friend. That’s all he wants to be.
“We could go do karaoke,” he suggests, pointing at a sign down the road.
He’s trying to distract you. It’s working.
You laugh and elbow him. “You’re an awful singer,” you tease.
“Am not!” He says, his tone full of mock offense. “Here, I’ll-“
You’re expecting him to break out into Viva Las Vegas, like he had at the end of the race over the radio. You’re bracing yourself for it, ready to grimace and cover your ears even though he isn’t really that bad of a singer. What he starts singing surprises you, makes you stumble a bit over your own feet.
“Welcome to New York!” He sings, and you stare at him, wide eyed. “They’ve been waiting for me- welcome-“
“Stop, stop,” you laugh, elbowing him as he attracts stares from people passing by. “We’re in Vegas, not New York! And you always get the lyrics wrong-“
“I am very good with lyrics,” he says, shaking his head.
“No, you’re not, you sang the other one wrong, too,” you tease. “You said got love drunk, it’s supposed to be got love struck. Remember, in Monaco?”
He stops in his tracks, his arm still around you, and stares. You stare right back. You frown and tilt your head at him, mirroring his earlier reaction.
“You remember that?” He asks, quietly.
“I was sober, Max,” you answer. “You remember that?”
He nods, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t sure if it was real, or if I dreamed it. And you never said anything about what I told you, so…”
That’s when you remember the other part of that conversation, all those nights ago. I love her. Why don’t you tell her? Can’t. You swallow tightly, hands hanging at your sides.
“You didn’t seem to know you were talking to me,” you explain. “So I figured it wasn’t something you really wanted me to know.”
Max blinks, then nods. “I didn’t. Because you don’t feel the same.”
Your stomach twists violently, and your chest follows suit. “I never said that.”
His stare is so intense you feel like you’re seconds away from bursting into flame. “But if you did, you would’ve said something after that night.”
You shake your head. “I asked why you didn’t just tell me and you just said, can’t. You wouldn’t explain any further. I don’t know, Max, I just. I figured you had a reason. Like, maybe…”
“Maybe what?” He asks, still staring at you.
“I’m just me, Max,” you say, pressing your hands over your face. “I’m just your friend. People get crushes all the time but it doesn’t mean you want to be with me, you’re a fucking world champion and I-“
He reaches up with both hands and grabs your wrists gently. He pulls your hands from your face. There’s a smile on his lips that leaves you teetering between relief and apprehension.
“But I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” he says, brows raised. “I said I love you.”
You sigh heavily and try to pull your hands back to your face. He doesn’t let you. You’re looking anywhere other than his eyes. Anywhere other than him, really. He lets go of your wrists and then cups your face in his hands before you can move.
“Hey,” he says. “I said can’t because I thought there was no way you’d feel the same.”
You stare at him, wide eyed, as his thumbs sweep soft circles over your cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes into focus, bright and blinding and stark. The Las Vegas strip is glowing all around you, but none of the lights are as bright as him.
“I do,” you murmur, and he lights up even brighter, somehow, when he smiles. “Fuck, Max-“
He kisses you right there, where anyone could see, in the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks you’ve ever been on. Nobody seems to notice or care, nobody seems to understand that your whole world is shifting. His lips are warm against yours, he tastes like gin, and he holds onto you like he’s trying to be so, so careful. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and thread fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
He only pulls away when someone whistles at the two of you. He’s grinning wide, hands still cradling your face, and you have to fight not to pull his lips back to yours.
“Come on,” he says, slightly out of breath.
You don’t ask where you’re going. You just let him lead you away. You’re so in love with him, you think you’d probably follow him anywhere. It’s terrifying and relieving all at the same time.
…..
A week later, in Abu Dhabi, you ask him if he wants to go out after the race. There’s a billion parties he could choose from.
“No,” he says, wrinkling his nose up at the idea. “I’m good.”
You elbow him lightly, raising your brows. “All those parties you called me to pick you up from, and now I’m here and you don’t even want to go out? You don’t want to celebrate your season?”
He smirks as he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you along with him through the paddock. “I want to celebrate, but we don’t need to go out to do that. I have better ideas.”
His hand slips lower from your hip and squeezes at your ass. You yelp and look around frantically, hoping nobody noticed. He’s grinning with pride.
“Party animal Max Verstappen wants to stay in,” you tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
He shrugs, leans his head close to yours, and then admits, finally, “it was never about the parties. It was more about who was picking me up from them.”
You smile against his shoulder and try not to let it go to your head. He smiles against your forehead and tells you that he loves you for what must be the millionth time in the past week. You say it right back, drunk on the feeling of it.
a/n: thank you for readinnnnngggg!!
taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully
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Never Mix Business With Pleasure - LN
A request from @luvrrish
Summary: After a disappointing one night stand, y/n finds her new boss is the man behind the disappointment. She'd spared him the knowledge till a staff night leads to an indirect admission that she's faked an orgasm. Out of some pride, Lando has to know if she did with him.
Themes: Smut (eventually), nipple piercing (is back bby)
No part 2 requests please
Y/n had known she'd recognised Lando, but a couple drinks deep into the night. She really couldn't think straight other than the man was surely worth having between her legs.
Turns out she only wanted him between her legs till he got there.
Not that he was...bad. But more accurately...selfish.
Admittedly, she snuck out of there as soon as he was snoring beside her. Not entirely her brightest of ideas. But she really felt no appeal of sticking around for an awkward morning after.
What she didn't expect was a week later for her to find him at the head of the table leading a meeting at her new job.
Now y/n is an adult she can have a one night stand and it not be awkward. Especially since she's almost certain that he has no idea she faked it.
"Y/n, can we just have a chat?" Lando asks when Max calls the meeting to an end, though Lando's best friend looks at him suspiciously since usually Lando doesn't bother to invest his time in new employees.
"Uh-Yes, yes. Of course." Y/n confirms before the rest of the room leaves and closes the door.
"I just wanted to make sure that you're...not uncomfortable working here-"
"Mr Norris, you're my boss and our one night stand happened before my official employment start date. I am more than capable of maintaining a professional relationship with you as I'm sure you are with me. It's only the two of us who know and we're adults, I'm sure that we can get over having seen each other naked." Y/n smiles trying to maintain as cool and unbothered an attitude as possible while keeping herself professional.
"Yeah right, I just...wanted to make sure you were comfortable. And everyone here kind of builds a friendship so just call me Lando. Mr Norris is...professional but too professional for me."
"Right, Lando. Anyway, I know you need to get off. So I'll not keep you."
-
Y/n did make friends with everyone at Quadrant. She also really found this to be the best job she's ever had.
Thankfully, Lando has such a busy schedule beyond Quadrant. He's not there nearly as often as she had originally anticipated and when he is, neither of them struggle.
Although it has only been 2 weeks.
"I bet y/n has some secrets. We can get out of her." Ria comments when the game of never have I ever is thrown out as part of the gathering.
It was meant to be for staff, but there was definitely a few plus ones who had beefed the group up and quite a few that y/n didn't know.
"Secrets? I'm an open book." Y/n laughs while swallowing back a mouthful of water since she's determined to not end the night anything more than tipsy.
They each go about saying a never have I ever, some of them going for boring safe options and some of them going for the spicier variety.
"Alright, this one is for the ladies...and maybe the men. Never had I ever faked an orgasm." Max states seeming to watch his own girlfriend who takes a small sip making the room burst into laughter.
"It wasn't with you." She assures him with a pitiful pat that seems to be more of a "I'm trying to save you while also being honest in front of your friends".
Y/n and Ria actually cheers as they also take a mouthful of their drinks.
Y/n really didn't think to check if Lando was watching her, it hadn't struck her that he might be or that he might even care. After all he certainly didn't in the moment. So the idea he would now never crossed her mind.
The game goes on before people eventually get bored or too drunk to focus.
Y/n ends up deciding to be one of the first to leave, though it's not as if she's leaving early. It's near enough 1 in the morning.
"I was going to leave too. I'll give you a ride." Lando states catching up to her as she pulls on her jacket at the doorway, the suggestion of him driving her making her frown. "I haven't been drinking-well one drink, but nothing strong."
"I don't know if we're going in the same direction. I could walk to my place from here." Y/n murmurs since there's something about Lando's expression that makes her feel like there's a reason he rushed to leave early. "It's only about a 15 minute walk really."
"Well it'll be even quicker and warmer in my car." Lando smiles making her look at him for a moment before she nods.
"Yeah, you're right." Y/n nods before following him out.
He's got one of his expensive ass sports cars that she could maybe afford if she spent the rest of her life not spending a penny on anything, not even food, and then worked till she was 150. Then she might be able to afford a second had version.
"You look annoyed." Lando comments making her furrowed brows quickly raise themselves while he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. "Actually I wanted to ask you something."
"Oh ok." Y/n nods feeling herself get a little nervous.
Lando might not be as involved in the day to day workings of Quadrant as she'd thought when she realised he is her boss. But he is still her boss, if he decides she's not performing well enough then he is well within his rights to fire her.
Fuck.
"Back when we were playing that game, you drank when Max asked if anyone had faked an orgasm." Lando states keeping his eyes trained perfectly on the road.
"Yeah." Y/n confirms suddenly gritting her teeth at the feeling of where this conversation is going to go. "I mean I think all women have."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just...did you with me?"
How fast is he going? To fast for her to open the door for a jump, tuck and roll manoeuvre?
This is not a conversation she wants to have with any man, much less a man who turned out to be her boss. But something tells her she won't believe her if she lies.
"Yeah, I did." Y/n admits watching his knuckles turn white from his grip on the steering wheel. "It's-Well I was a bit drunk, it's harder for me when I've had a drink."
Not entirely a lie, but also not exactly the truth. She tends to last a bit longer while drunk but it doesn't stop her from getting there.
"You don't have to lie to save my feelings." Lando states making her sigh. "I could make it up to you."
"Lando, that's really not necessary." Y/n tries since she isn't looking to make a man insecure. "It's not as if every woman ever has faked with you. It's just...sometimes it's easier."
"But I'd like to make it up to you." Lando stresses making her sigh again. "It doesn't have to be tonight...what if...I took you on a date?" Lando tries making her almost jerk her head back in reaction.
"You want to take me on a date?"
"I mean I would be up for it tonight, but I feel like it might be awkward now." Lando murmurs earning a small smile.
"That's true...Well you have my number, you can call me with plans and I definitely won't turn you away." Y/n states softly making Lando finally manage a small smile.
Y/n directs him to her apartment before she does give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
-
There was a few date ideas that y/n had. Lando flying her out to join him on one of the race weekends was really not on the list.
"This is insane." Y/n murmurs to herself as Lando walks in behind her.
He'd made sure she flew with him on the jet and pulled out all the stops for her in addition to that. She's never felt so well off in her life.
"You alright?" Lando asks making her turn and look at him for a moment.
"Yeah, just...it's the nicest hotel I've ever been in." Y/n laughs lightly before feeling his hand on the small on her back. "I feel like I'm underdressed just for a lobby."
"You're fine." Lando assures her with a small laugh before he moves them to the reception desk and checks them in then starting to guide her to the lift as he sorts through the keys. "I got them to give us a suite with an adjoining room. Just so you got your own space."
"So am I here to call you my boss or just...a one night stand redemption?" Y/n asks trying to ease her own tension.
"Neither of those sound great." Lando hums as the lift appears and they step in. "Just call me your...date."
"My date." Y/n echoes then smiling at him in slightly approval.
-
Lando really doesn't want to rush y/n into having sex, even if he's determined to show that he's not some inexperienced idiot who has no concept of the female body.
Admittedly, he didn't put his all into the first time they had sex. But the idea of her faking an orgasm just made him feel sick to his stomach for some reason.
He took her to play golf, then out for a meal and they were nearing the end of being able to stretch out the meal any longer.
"We should probably go. You've been looking at me like I'm the next course for a while now." Y/n comments trying to hide her smile.
Lando decides not to comment since maybe his thoughts have been slightly more x-rated selection. Though he genuinely thinks he can't be blamed, y/n dressed to impress and she achieved that and more. But he's not about to make this about him at all.
He manages to get the check and pay for everything before they head out.
"I've never been so lavished before sex. This must be what sugar babies feel like." Y/n jokes before clearing her throat when she realises that might not be a joke he's very happy to be a part of.
"I hope it doesn't actually feel like that." Lando laughs lightly as the valet appears with his car.
"No." Y/n confirms with a soft smile as the second valet opens the door for her and they both climb in. "Now I just have to trust that I am getting an orgasm tonight."
"You think I'm stopping at one? That's bold." Lando comments making her pause for a moment.
"How many are you stopping at?" Y/n chokes out not expecting it to have had to be a question between them.
"You'll just have to wait and find out." Lando shrugs innocently but the smirk speaks for itself and actually, whether it's the intended affect or not, she's not sure but it sort of turns her on.
When they get to the hotel, Lando again hands his car over to the valet before quickly moving around and dismissing the valet about to help y/n out of the depth.
"Thank you." She smiles as he quickly leads her inside.
Admittedly the anticipation that should be making this all so awkward is actually just making her more eager. His promise of multiple orgasms definitely makes her feel a little more eager to get to the hotel suite.
It's either going to live up to his promise, fall short or make her figure out a way to really sell her fake orgasm as believable and never tell him that actually it was yet another disappointment.
"You look like you're thinking pretty hard." Lando comments as they step into the lift.
"Yeah, I'm just thinking...what your plan might be." Y/n murmurs earning a small smirk. "I hope you're not about to get performance anxiety."
"No. Definitely not." Lando chuckles, somewhat hating that his hotel room is so high up meaning the lift is taking slightly longer to get them to their floor.
Lando's hand links to her own as they near their floor and just as they step out he manages to gently tug her into a kiss, his hands landing on her waist as they kiss and y/n steps backwards, trusting his guidance.
The room isn't far from the lift so when he breaks the kiss, it's not a long distance later that she finds herself gently pushed into the room in a brief pause.
Lando kicks the door closed and proves that actually when he wants to try, he certainly can seduce a woman with just touch. The touch that's specifically working, is his ability to slide the slinky slip dress off of y/n's body.
The silky material slides down off of her body with ease and she's left with no bra and admittedly some strings worth of underwear. She also steps out her heels as Lando lifts her up to wrap her legs around his waist.
There's definitely a bit of a power play with Lando still fully dressed while she's literally one flimsy and quickly dampening piece of material away from completely naked and exposed to him.
She's placed down on the bed with Lando's lips kissing down her body.
"I definitely did not appreciate your body enough last time." Lando comments, lips brushing her skin as he pauses the kisses moving down her body.
Y/n actually arches up against the soft feeling of his lips before he lifts up and removes his jacket that he's been wearing just for some more movability.
"You know I've tried to keep professional..." Lando admits moving his hand up to her boob, thumb gently rubbing over her piercing making her teeth nibble on her lip. "...but every time I saw you, I kept thinking of this shiny little piece of metal."
"Well, it's fully healed and free use to play with." Y/n smiles shifting to try and stop arching up into his back like she'd doing instinctually.
Lando smirks at her comment before he finally reaches down to the so far neglected area that he's most eager to get access to. He presses his fingers onto her slit through the wet material then having to use his free hand to keep her thighs from closing on him.
"Don't tease." Y/n murmurs impatiently while Lando just remains quiet pushing the fabric aside and testing her wetness before pushing a finger into her and pressing his thumb onto her clit which even to her own admission, she wasn't really expecting him to find or touch with such precision.
He wastes no time pushing a second finger in when he leans forward choosing to pay attention to her nipples too, the feel of a piece of metal between his lips is sort of unfamiliar but the reaction from y/n is a quick pay off, already twitching around his fingers. Feeling the beginnings of her build up towards an orgasm.
His hand is soaked already from her and he's suddenly realising the moans she's producing sound significantly less controlled and more genuine than what he recalls of their previous hook up.
When he finally locates her g-spot that's when things really change, he can feel her body started to tense from underneath him.
Y/n whines a little, feeling the build up starting to near the peak. Lando does let up on her nipples either his mouth on the pierced one and his free hand on the unpierced one. When she completely tenses, arching a little up against him. the moan that escapes her lips and the feeling of her thighs locking to squeeze either side of him might just be better than the feeling of his own orgasm.
She's clamped down on his fingers with a tightness that he's already going to dream about for a long time.
"Fuck." Y/n whimpers when she finally relaxes and melts down onto the bed. "Fuck, Lando."
"That's just the beginning, I told you more than one." Lando chuckles then shifting up to kiss her. "But it's good to know what a real orgasm sounds like from you."
Y/n almost wants to be insulted that her fake orgasm apparently isn't anything like the real thing. But maybe she shouldn't really be insulted by it.
"I've never have multiple orgasms before."
"Happy to be the first to make it happen." Lando smirks then gently blowing on her nipple as he goes back down her body. "Part of my redemption."
Y/n breathes a little, her body shuddering when he gets low enough to see her pussy still pulsing from her first orgasm. She's not even sure what it feels like for someone to give her head after she's already had an orgasm.
"This is going to sound stupid, but I didn't know it was possibly for every part of a person to look so pretty." Lando comments and she's about to say something, only for him to latch his hands onto the top of her thighs before he dives in-between them and licks her up and down. His nose managing to nudge her clit that was still entirely oversensitive at the feeling of pressure on it.
"Jesus christ." Y/n breathes, mainly to herself at the feeling of Lando treating her exactly like she'd joked earlier in that she's the final course of his meal.
Actually it feels like she's completely devoured by the man, she's not sure if the build up is just as quick, slower or faster but she can feel it already and her jaw drops open a little.
"Lando." Y/n whimpers, not being able to stop herself from threading her hand into his hair.
There's something that sort of dawns on Lando as he doesn't let up, he's never cared all that much about a woman's side of the pleasure. Sure it's a great addition and he enjoys giving head, but with y/n there's something much more satisfying.
Maybe it's a point to prove, or maybe it's how good his name sounds being moaned by her.
Her voice wobbles in another moan before she feels her orgasm hit her much harder, and with less of a build up. It hits her, catching her off guard but she's not so sure Lando was as surprised about it. Not that he lets up, hell he seems to extend the length of her orgasm from just keeping going and if her brain didn't feel slightly fuzzy then she might question if he'd even noticed she was hit with the waves of more ecstasy.
She hardly has a moment to catch her breath before he's shifted, finally getting himself undressed as he can't wait any longer to get inside her.
"You ok?" He asks climbing back over her making her nod quickly, seemingly desperate but wordless as she tries to pull him closer.
Really y/n is torn between the temptation of a third orgasm and the fear of what it will actually feel like.
When he pushes into her, she reminds her voice enough to moan while he drops his head into her neck trying to keep himself from caving into the urge to really let every ounce of his energy go into her. Not straight away at least.
"Move, move. Please." Y/n whines making him hum before she whines at him then being silenced when he kisses her and begins thrusting in and out of her.
The angle must be working because he knocks her g-spot consistently and she's scrambling for grip, unable to choose between the sheets and latching onto Lando. It's not really any time before her third orgasm hits as she actually cries out holding on tightly to him.
"Oh I'm not done yet, gorgeous." Lando chuckles, though he certainly was close. He managed to hold out. For some reason he just wants to aim for four.
It's his number after all.
Y/n whines trying to latch onto him tightly before holding onto him as he keeps going, but he manages to wiggle free only just so he can roll them over and sit her up to straddle him. He's not getting lazy, he just needs better access if he's going to get the fourth.
After a few thrusts with his hand reaching down to gently press on her clit, it seems to strike her like electricity and she tightens around him so much that he almost feels pain, but he stops fighting his own finish and groans pumping into her with no thought other than he is definitely doing this again if she'll let him.
Y/n falls forward against Lando, breathless and whimpering with every exhale.
"Fuck. Fucking hell, you were holding back on me that much?" Y/n whispers, not quite having found her voice properly.
"Sorry, I promise to never let it happen again." Lando laughs while she hides her face in his neck as he gently strokes her sides. "Take all the recovery time you need."
"I will. Trust me." Y/n groans trying not to think about the sheer amount of sweat and other fluids they're both coated in.
After a while Lando does manage to move her to lie beside him, purely because he wants to at least clean them up a little and get y/n some water.
"Thank you." Y/n mumbles as he wipes her with a damp cloth.
"You really don't need to thank me." Lando sighs shaking his head at her while she smiles lazily. "But if you want to thank me. Another date and significantly more sex like that would be something I'd accept."
"I think I might be able to muster that up." Y/n nods, biting her lip a little as she tries to hide a grin. "Especially when this is the treatment I get afterwards."
"Yeah?" Lando laughs lightly before looking around for the room service menu.
"Yeah." Y/n nods then smiling when he hands her the menu. "Is this for sustenance?"
"I'm a caring man. You need to reenergise." Lando grins then rubbing her tummy.
"So what do I call you now? Just so when I talk to being railed, they know the status." Y/n smiles earning an eye roll. "Just my date?"
"I fucking hope not." Lando grumbles then looking at her for a moment. "Boyfriend, if you're ok with that."
"I think I'm definitely ok with that." Y/n confirms before she let's out a heavy sigh and relaxes down into the soft bed then remembering the amount of fluids on it. "Oh god, we're sleeping in my bed tonight. These sheets are so dirty now."
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05
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Another sweet sweet price thot💋
Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.
He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.
He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.
But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.
Until he met you of course.
It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.
My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.
He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.
Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.
He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.
John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.
He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.
After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.
The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.
John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.
You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.
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"took you long enough"
gojo satoru x reader
summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned.
w/c: 3.2k
tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n.
a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say
masterlist
gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.
"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.
"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."
it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.
he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."
"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"
"boyfriend?"
"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"
your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."
"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."
he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."
"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"
"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.
you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."
after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.
he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.
when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.
wait, what?
your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.
"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"
"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.
"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."
gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—
"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."
nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.
the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.
everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.
shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'
shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'
shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'
nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."
shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.
"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"
nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.
you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—
"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"
"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.
and it is, just not to you.
shinya chuckles. "gojo."
"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."
"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"
turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.
"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.
"whatever you say, baby."
you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.
but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.
when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.
it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.
"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."
"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."
gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.
shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.
"get the fuck away from her!"
gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.
"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"
you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."
the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."
you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.
"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.
you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"
"i don't fucking care," he spits.
he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"
"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.
you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.
"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."
once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.
"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"
he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."
"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.
"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."
your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"
you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.
"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."
"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."
"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.
and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.
he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.
he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.
"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.
"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.
"mm, knew you were a good girl."
he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.
"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.
you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."
he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.
you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.
"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.
his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.
you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."
that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.
"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.
his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.
he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—
"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"
your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue
"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.
"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."
he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.
splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."
he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."
your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."
he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.
"p-people are gonna see—"
"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."
you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.
he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.
"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."
your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."
you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."
your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."
"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"
you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.
"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.
you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."
you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.
your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"
he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.
no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.
you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.
you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.
"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.
"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"
"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."
you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"
"i just didn't know if you... you know.."
"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.
you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."
"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"
you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."
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how you get the girl — ethan landry
word count: 3,654
pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader
summary: because of ethan’s reputation as a man-whore, y/n doesn’t believe he wants a serious relationship with her. so, ethan and chad make a list so that he can get the girl.
warnings: fluff.
author’s note: i’ve been reading lots of hockey rom-coms, so i needed to write about it. i’m obsessed with ethan as a hockey player😫
ETHAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW BADLY HIS ACTIONS WOULD COME BACK IN THE FUTURE TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS. Being captain of the Blackmore hockey team and certified pretty boy, girls were practically—and quite literally sometimes—throwing themselves at him, and he would lie if he said he didn’t love the attention. It would be easier and shorter to name the girls he hadn’t hooked up with than naming the ones he had. That gained him the reputation of being a playboy, and he didn’t mind being called that, to be completely honest. Or at least, he didn’t until Y/N came into his life.
She was Tara’s best friend, and since said girl started dating Ethan’s best friend, Chad, the four of them began spending lots of time together. At first, the boy flirted with Y/N because hitting on attractive girls was like second nature to him, but then he got to know her better and the unexpected thing happened—Ethan was swept off his feet. But his reputation was his karma, and Y/N didn’t think he was being serious with her. She would laugh and brush it off because no matter how gorgeous Ethan was, playboys weren’t Y/N’s type, so she would decline every attempt of him to make her go out with him.
“Why not? Just one date” Ethan said on his fifth attempt of the day. They were on the Blackmore hockey rink, and instead of using his break to drink water and rest, Ethan went to talk to Y/N.
“Exactly. You want just one date, get me inside your bed and tomorrow you’ll move onto some other girl. I really like you” she said, and before he could smirk in victory she added. “But why ruin the friendship we have for sex? Besides, one night stands aren’t my cup of tea.”
“Then let’s make it an every day thing” Ethan said.
“Nice try, Eth. We know you don’t do repeats” she stated.
“I could!” he argued. “And besides, I’m not asking for sex—I mean, at the end of the date, if you want to, I’m not gonna reject the offer—, I’m done with hook ups, I want something more.”
Y/N laughed “Okay, try it, but not with me. I’m sorry, Eth”
The girl stood up and made her way towards the exit of the rink, leaving a disappointed Ethan behind. She would lie if she said she didn’t want to try things with him, but the truth also was that she didn’t trust him when it came to relationships and she didn’t want to get her heart broken by him.
Chad got off the ice to find his best friend sitting on the bleachers, gaze fixed on the stairs, looking like a sad kicked puppy. It’s not a sight seen often, Ethan was usually an over-energetic puppy, always happy and with a smile on his face.
“Hey, man. What’s wrong?”
“Y/N rejected me.” Ethan played with his hockey stick, not wanting to meet his best friend’s eyes.
“I’ve never seen you like this after a rejection” Chad frowned.
“Well, not to brag, but it doesn’t usually happen.” he said, making Chad chuckle. “But it’s different this time. Y/N is not someone I want for one night, or for something casual. I want everything with her.”
“Wow” Chad took a breath, shocked by the confession. “And she said no?”
“She says she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship” Ethan said.
Chad scoffed “Why would that happen?”
“She doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not boyfriend material. I really am serious about her, Chad. I swear. I would never hurt her. I wish she could read my mind”
“Don’t you dare give up, then. Words aren’t enough, show her you really like her”
“How?”
Chad smirked. “Grab a pen and a napkin, we are going to make a list so you can get the girl.”
one: get her favourite coffee
ETHAN WOKE UP A BIT EARLIER THE FOLLOWING DAY TO GO TO Y/N’S FAVOURITE COFFEE SHOP AND GET HER ORDER. He convinced Tara to drag Y/N straight to class, not letting her get the coffee, and to text him once they were in the classroom. Once he got the text, Ethan entered the class, all eyes on him, and set the cup in front of Y/N with an adorable grin.
“Good morning. You look gorgeous as always” he kissed her cheek and simply left the room.
Y/N stared at the drink completely astonished, ignoring the glares coming from the female population and the smirk her best friend was giving her. There was something scribbled with black sharpie—it was simple, but it made her stomach combust. Have a great day, beautiful! Love, Ethan. And three hearts poorly made—which she thought was utterly adorable—next to his name.
“You got him in a leash” Tara laughed.
“Don’t be silly, we know what he wants” Y/N brushed it off.
“Come on, Ethan doesn’t do romantic stuff for anyone, not even to get laid.”
“It’s just one coffee, Tara. Let’s not be dramatic.”
But Tara knew, and Y/N too, that the little gesture was a lot when it came to Ethan Landry. Yet, a coffee cup wasn’t enough to gain the girl’s trust.
two: show her you’re interested in her interests
WHAT IS THE THING Y/N ENJOYED THE MOST? EASY: BOOKS. Ethan knew exactly which one he should start with. In fact, he had bought it the first time Y/N mentioned it. He didn’t know what it was about, but he was sure it was a rom-com that referenced other rom-com movies.
“Ethan!” Chad said in a loud voice, startling his friend. Ethan looked up to find his best friend, Tara and Y/N staring at him. The latter had her mouth wide open.
“What?” he asked absentmindedly. He had been so immersed in the book he hadn’t heard them arrive.
“We called your name countless times, man.” Chad laughed.
“Sorry” Ethan closed the book and looked at Y/N. “Um, I may have a man-crush on Wes Bennett.”
Y/N chuckled, sitting in front of him and ignoring the way her heart was beating rapidly. She wanted to take a picture of Ethan with the book and set it as her lock screen “Welcome to the club.”
“I can’t stand it anymore, I need them to kiss. I need Wes to get the girl” he groaned.
A grin took over her features “Which part are you at?”
“They are going to hang out at Michael’s house” Ethan replied, which made her smile wider. “What’s that smile for? Oh god, what is going to happen?”
“I’m not going to spoil it! Just want to say… buckle up”
“You can’t say that! I can’t continue reading until tomorrow, I have a test!” Ethan panicked.
“Look at you, invested in a rom-com” Chad bumped his shoulder.
“I just wanted to see if it lived up to Y/N’s hype” Ethan said, making her turn into a blushing mess. “It does.”
“You aren’t even finished” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Did you know there’s a sequel coming? And its playlist isn’t very optimistic”
“What?! You just ruined my day. I don’t want to read it anymore” he crossed his arms.
Wanting to mess with him, Tara grabbed the book. “So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ she stopped talking when the boy took the book from her hands.
“Yes, I would mind”
“Wait, are you annotating it?” Y/N said when she saw the colourful post-its.
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Anyways, I have to go to class, see you later at practice?”
“See you” Chad said. Before leaving, Ethan kissed Y/N’s forehead.
“What is going on with him?” Y/N asked.
“Showing you he’s serious about you. What are you waiting for, Y/N/N? I thought you liked him” Chad said.
“I do, a lot. But I’m not sure I’m really what he wants. What if he’s just interested because I’m the only girl who has rejected him? What if I finally say yes and then that interest is gone? How am I supposed to recover from that?”
“Y/N…”
“There’s nothing I’d like more than to call him mine, Chad. Trust me. But being just another girl on his list would kill me. I don’t want to lose him, okay? I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship.”
three: woo her with your hockey skills.
WHEN PRACTICE WAS OVER AND CHAD AND ETHAN DIDN’T LEAVE THE RINK, Y/N WAS CONFUSED. The boys skated towards the bleachers Tara and her were sitting in and smirked at them. Chad grabbed a bag from a corner and gave it to them.
“Put the skates on, ladies”
Y/N wanted to laugh when Ethan grabbed her hands and guided her around the ice, but she thought it was so cute that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she knew how to skate perfectly well.
“Okay, I think you’re ready to do it on your own, but go slowly” Ethan said as he finished explaining her how to slide in the ice.
“Losers don’t do it slowly, Landry.” Y/N scoffed.
“You will hurt yourself, Y/N/N. Don’t be stubborn, it’s dangerous.” Ethan sighed.
Y/N smirked “Oh yeah?” she skated flawlessly towards a corner, and came back with a winning smile. She even did a little spin to show off.
“H-how?” he asked breathlessly, frozen in place with a look of shock.
“Took skating classes when I was little” she explained.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I was blabbering instructions like a fool”
Y/N shrugged “I couldn’t, you looked so excited”
“You’re evil” he shook his head as he let out the cutest laugh Y/N had ever heard. God, her infuriation was just getting worse with every little action he did. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to contain herself. She needed him to stop.
So her face turned serious “Ethan…”
Ethan fluttered his eyes close and then looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I know what you’re going to say. Just hear me out. I know that my reputation is horrible, and I get why you don’t trust me. But I have never been more serious about something the way I am about you. I really wish I could erase every hook up, but I can’t and I don’t want my past to define my future. I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t been with anyone since I fell for you. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I fell for you. I want to keep showing you how much I like you.”
Y/N was speechless. He had known Ethan long enough to know he was being serious and completely honest with his words. Maybe she had judged him too much, maybe he had truly changed. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a girl in ages. Maybe diving into a relationship wasn’t the safest option, but it was worth the try.
four: get her flowers
DURING HER LUNCH BREAK, Y/N WAS SURPRISED BY THE HOCKEY PLAYER, who on one hand was holding red tulips and on the other one food. Like always, his presence brought attention and whispers, but none of them cared. Something had shifted between them since that afternoon at the rink, and they both could feel it.
“Thank you, Eth” she smiled gratefully. “You know, I had a feeling you would bring me lunch, so instead of bringing mine, I brought yours. I owe you flowers, though.”
“Thanks” he laughed. “Do you like them?”
“They are beautiful” she nodded, her cheeks the same colour as her flowers.
“When you get home, you should look for the meaning of red tulips” he winked.
For the rest of the day, Y/N had been in a haze. Every time Ethan crossed her mind, blush appeared on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lifted up.
“My god, was I that annoying when Chad and I started talking?” Tara asked when they entered their dorm.
“Yes, you were, T.” Y/N chuckled, remembering her best friend’s love-sick smile every time Chad texted her. “You still are, by the way.”
“Anyways, I love seeing you like this. And I’m glad you’re willing to give Ethan a chance.”
“Me too. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared that he’ll get bored of me, but I’m really determined to risk it.”
“He’s not going to get bored of you, Y/N/N. He doesn’t like you because he’s into the whole ‘Only girl who had ever rejected him’ thing. He’s into you because you don’t see him only as a hot hockey player, but you also see how sweet and caring he is. You’re not interested in using him to become popular, you see that he is much more than his popularity. And that is why he likes you.”
“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for rejecting him multiple times.” Y/N slumped to the couch.
Tara laughed “Don’t. It’s understandable why you were cautious with your feelings. He knows that he isn’t a saint. By the way, did you know that Chad and him made this list with things to do to win you over?”
“Really?” Y/N laughed. “That makes sense, he’s being really sweet this week. Well, more than usual, because he’s always super sweet.”
“I found it on their fridge, they are so silly. It’s called ‘Ethan and Chad’s infallible list on how to get the girl’. I took a picture”
Y/N took Tara’s phone and laughed at the list. There were a couple of items crossed out and with a tick, and the one that said ‘Woo her with your hockey skills’ had a little note to the side that said ‘Backfired. My girl is a skating genius, made me look like a fool’, which made her laugh. Then, on the ‘Give her flowers’ there was an explanation note that said ‘My pick: red tulips. Means declaration of love’.
“Fucking hell, he’s so… ugh! I really want to kiss him”
“Lucky for you, that’s item six” Tara said over her shoulder.
“The thought of them brainstorming and writing this down is adorable” Y/N laughed.
“It really is” Tara nodded. “You should wear Ethan’s jersey to the game tomorrow. You don’t know how many times he told us he has dreamt about it.”
Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. Ethan had shown her how much he liked her, and she thought it was time to show him how much she liked him. “You know? That’s an excellent idea.”
[💖]
five: publicly state you’re only into her.
ETHAN KNEW THE BEST TIME TO EXECUTE ITEM FIVE WOULD BE THE NIGHT OF THE GAME. The ideal scenario would be to get that puck on the net and dedicate it to Y/N, and if he wasn’t that lucky, he would settle with blowing kisses and winks at her. Though when he went out on the ice rink and he caught sight of her, his mind went blank, his body stopped working for a couple of seconds and if it weren’t for Chad steadying him, he would’ve collapsed to the ice.
He quickly skated towards her seat, which was in the first row, right behind the glass. “Beautiful, you can’t just come here in my jersey without any warnings. You want me to have a heart attack?”
A sweet laugh bursted out of her “Sorry. Red tulips are your way of declaring your love, I thought wearing your jersey could be mine.”
Ethan’s breath hitched “Um, I’m about to jump up this glass so that I can kiss you.”
The girl shook her head and laughed “After the game, pretty boy. If you win, you might get an extra reward.”
And hell if those words didn’t encourage Ethan to play his best. The game was brutal, both teams were acing it and the match was about to end in a tie, until Ethan scored the winning goal a few seconds before time was over. The Blackmore bleachers erupted in screams of triumph, and the players united for a group hug.
Tara and Y/N instantly went looking for their boys. The last one scowled as she saw a puck bunny making sexy eyes at Ethan and she clung to his arm. The boy couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, only for the girl to find another way of touching him.
“You have been acting so hard to get lately. Don’t you think a winner deserves a kiss?” Y/N heard the girl say.
“You’re absolutely right. Now, back away so I can kiss the hell out of him.” Y/N said, throwing daggers at the girl, who looked at her in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “And can’t you get a hint? He’s uncomfortable.”
Ethan gaped at her. She had never looked so hot—standing there with his number on the back of the jersey that fitted her like a dress, knee-length boots that weirdly turned him on, and with a scowl on her face as she got all territorial on him.
“And who are you?” the puck bunny scanned her up and down with a frown.
“His girlfriend. Now, can you leave? I have to congratulate my man” she said harshly. As soon as she said that, Ethan was sure he was about to drop onto his knees and let her do whatever she wanted to him.
“Girlfriend?” Ethan smirked as the puck bunny left. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good” Y/N smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, are you ready to cross out items five and six? You know, one bird two stones.”
“Hell yes”
Their lips moved hungrily, and the kiss was way too heated and inappropriate considering their surroundings. But they couldn’t stop it, their desire was diesel and they had been playing with fire for months.
“I promised you a reward if you won, right?” Y/N said against his lips.
“Isn’t this the reward? This is more than I could’ve asked for. You, finally being my girlfriend and kissing me while wearing my jersey.” his eyes were dark and lips swollen. His beauty was out of this world.
“You scored the winning goal, babe. You deserve a special reward” she licked her lips. “Let’s go to your car.”
He nodded eagerly, and as they reached the car, he dared to ask “What do you have in mind?”
She opened the back door. “One kiss isn’t enough. How much time do you have until you have to go to the bar with the guys?”
“What guys? What bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he acted clueless and she let out a giggle. “In fifteen, but they’ll survive if I arrive a bit late. I want to be with my girl for a while.”
“Okay, then get in the car so we can make out.” Y/N bursted out laughing as Ethan carelessly threw himself on the backseat of his car. “You need to learn about the art of subtlety, Eth.”
“Oh that’s rich coming from the girl who attacked me in the middle of the arena.” he said grabbing her waist to guide her to his lap.
“Attack you? That’s not what I did” she scoffed.
“Yes you did. You attacked me with a kiss and then you led me to my car to corrupt me” Ethan said in a fake innocent tone.
“Corrupting the former man-whore?” Y/N arched an eyebrow.
Ethan’s eyes darkened “You’re right. Maybe I am the one corrupting you. I mean, you couldn’t even wait for us to get home to attack me again?”
“You’re insufferable. You’re so lucky you’re hot.”
“I am hot?”
Y/N nodded, looking at him. His muscled arms were spread on the top of the seats, grin plastered on his face and cheeks still rosy from the cold temperature of the arena.
“The hottest. And the best thing? That you’re mine.”
“Just yours, love.” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead on hers.
“That list of yours is pretty… infallible, right?” Y/N joked.
“I can’t believe you know about the list” Ethan hid his face on her neck.
“You sticked it on the fridge and Tara took a picture” Y/N replied.
“Fucking Chad” Ethan groaned. “So, what do you think?”
“Well, it worked, right? You got the girl.”
“Yes, I did” he smiled hugging her tightly. “Should I do one on how to keep the girl?”
Y/N laughed “I don’t think you need that. Rumour has it, she’s totally in love with you.”
“Oh yeah? Lucky me, because I’m totally in love with her too.”
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sweet, sweet sugar
pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
summary: meeting a man in a bar and trying to determine what about him is so damn alluring. it doesn't really matter though, it ends well for the both of you. part 2: snooze
warnings: smut, explicit sex, explicit language, age gap (reader is mid 20s, Joel is 36) riding, truck sex, nasty talk, MDNI, 18+
a/n: i love him, your honor. i will protect this tired dilf with my life. might expand on this, if so it'll be fluffy/smutty (no angst because the show is already enough pain for me)
---
It was his voice, you think. You had just relocated to Texas and were new enough to be drawn in by that deep Southern accent when he introduced himself.
Hi, uh, I’m Joel. Mind if I buy ya’ a drink?
Maybe it was the age difference. It wouldn’t be a first for you and the few strands of gray in his hair did make you a little weak in the knees.
It could’ve been his arms. Bumping against the hard muscles of his bicep as the bar stools you two were sitting on inevitably wobbled while you talked. Placing a light touch on his forearm when the liquid courage of your second drink kicked in, before your fingers made their way to his indecently thick ones to intertwine. Just the rough touch of his hands was enough to make you shiver.
His eyes were definitely a factor. Puppy brown orbs that sparkled brighter than starlight when he laughed, even under the dim lights of the bar. How they grew dark, almost black, when you leaned in close enough for him to catch a whiff of your perfume, the faintest hint of sweet vanilla lingering in the space between you two.
Or maybe it was just him. All of him. The way he hummed along to the country western songs playing through the bar’s speakers. The way he spoke to you with affection in his voice despite his gruff exterior. The way he talked about his Sarah: the pride while mentioning an A plus social studies paper followed by the anxiety while asking if he was talking about her too often.
As if loving his daughter too much could scare you away.
His scruffy beard and charm, his bad humor, his dad humor, his smile.
And the way he called you sugar, like that’s what you were to him. Nothing but sweetness and all too appetizing. Like he’d drink you up with his coffee every morning if you let him.
Your wandering hand made its way down to his thigh, resting just above his knee. He paused mid sentence and for a moment you worried you were being too forward. Your eyes meet his in a heated stare.
“You tryna’ misbehave there, sugar?”
You were and it landed you in Joel’s backseat, laid down with his body pinning yours. He’s kissing you. He’s still kissing you, hasn’t stopped since he pressed you up against his truck in the dark and nearly empty parking lot. He’s on your lips, until you have to pull away for air when he moves down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking along the way.
Your legs part for him, wrapping around his hips to dig your heels into the backs of his firm thighs. His hands find their way under your shirt, calloused fingertips forming gooseflesh across your skin before pulling the material up and over your head. He palms your heaving breasts, letting out a low groan at the feel of your soft flesh in his hands, before working his hands around to the clasp. Any restraint he might have had was tossed into the front seat with your bra.
Now he’s desperate, he’s hungry.
His mouth is on you, all over. His tongue licking at the marks he left on your neck and chest, his teeth making more down your torso. Lips wrap around your nipple and you arch into his suckling, letting him consume even more of you. Every one of his filthy, reverent kisses is more fuel for the fire growing in you. You tug on his dark locks when he reaches the top of your skirt, running his tongue along the line where fabric meets skin.
“J-Joel, please,” you beg, surprising yourself at how wrecked you sound already.
“I wanna taste ya’, sweet thing,” he teases, looking up at you with mischief in his eyes.
Moving his head down between your legs, Joel places sloppy kisses up the inside of your thighs. You watch him with heavy eyes, shuddering as the coarse hair of his beard grazes your sensitive skin. He brings his face to the crotch of your panties, nose nudging your clit, before taking a deep inhale. He licks at you through the soft lace before pulling it off entirely.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he rasps, the heat of his breath against your cunt enough to make your hips buck. Unbothered by your writhing, Joel wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you open for him before licking a stripe through your slick folds.
He groans at the taste of you. “Such a sweet pussy, so goddamn wet for me too.”
He dives in, circling your clit with his tongue before plunging inside you. Your thighs try to shut at the sensations, but his hands tighten their grip to hold you in place. You’re melting into his mouth and onto the seats, the fogged up windows an indicator of just how hot everything is right now.
Then his thick fingers are inside you, thrusting deep and hitting that spot you always have trouble reaching dead on. His mouth wraps around your clit, sucking on it like hard candy.
“Gon’ get a cavity from all this sugar,” he mumbles into your pussy, and the rumble of his laugh vibrates through you.
He thinks he’s so goddamn funny…
“Oh fuck,” you cry out.
It hits you like a rocket. He curls his fingers just right and you’re seeing stars, being pulled up and away into the atmosphere. He doesn’t stop drinking you in until you’ve floated back down to Earth.
Insatiable.
Your eyes are closed, but you feel his soft lips kissing your neck. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “Did so good for me, such a good girl.”
Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
It’s like a trigger. All the satisfaction from your climax faded and was replaced by a deep need to be full of him, to take him in and again until you fell into the night sky together.
“Fuck me p-please, please Joel, I need it,” you whine, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.
“Oh sugar,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”
Joel uses one hand to pull you into his lap and straddle his thighs, while the other unbuckles his belt. You scramble to undo his zipper, tug his pants and boxers down, and unveil his—
Oh fuck.
Whatever it was before, it’s definitely his huge dick now. You let out a whine when your fingers wrap around the base without being able to fully encircle it. He rolls a condom down over himself before gripping your hips and guiding you to hover over the flushed red tip. Your forehead is pressed against his as you sink down, gasping at the stretch.
“Good girl, that’s it. It’s big, ain’t it?”
You huff against his cheek, “S’ big.”
“You can take it. Gonna take all of my cock, sugar.”
You do. Your toes curl and you feel like he’s splitting you open, but you take all of him. He rubs circles on your clit, making you gush around him and relax enough to move. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you start rocking your hips and slowly finding a rhythm. Every thrust is electric and the sweet sounds of how wet you are fill the car.
You’re clamped around him, raising and falling harder, faster. Whimpers spilling out of your lips as Joel thrusts into you, meeting your hips with his. You were close, your climax was racing towards you when his thumb found your clit again. Just a few touches to the bundle of nerves and you were toppling over the edge, head thrown back then falling limp into his neck. You shake in his arms as he continues to fuck you in his lap, quickly reaching his own release.
“Fuckin’ goddamnit, sugar,” he pants into your ear as he finishes.
He keeps you like that, strong arms holding your body close against his as you both catch your breath. You have no objections, nuzzling further into him and gently carding your fingers through his hair. It’s been a few minutes before he breaks the silence.
“Sugar?”
You hum and smile into his skin as a response.
“Could I get your number and, uh, maybe we do this again? Dinner too?”
He had the audacity to sound bashful while his cock was still inside you. You look up to see a pink tint to his cheeks, and you have to answer with a kiss. Slow and sweet.
---
💕💕💕 Thank you for reading 💕💕💕
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1: the confession // series m.list
note: been daydreaming abt this jk... enj <3
taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!
🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @thekookiecorner @parkinglot-nights @seagulljk
fic taglist: @peterstarkchrishiddleston
//
The library is your favourite place.
At least, that is until your predictable love for it comes to a disadvantage. May your tranquil moments alone rest in peace as your friends corner and gaslight you to leaving your sanctuary. Sometimes, it’s for parties. Other times, it’s for something stupid like driving to the next town to watch a movie at their theatre because their theatre chairs recline better.
You won’t have it this time.
No way. You have so much work to do!
"Oh, come on! Please, ___?” Hobi begs. “Come tonight! It'll be fun!" Suddenly, he’s clinging to your arm, making it harder for you to ignore him. You try shaking him off, but he pouts at you and clings on even tighter.
“Hobi,” you whine. “Go to the party if you wanna go. Jimin said he’d meet you there! And Nam Joon, and Taehyung, Jin, and even Yoongi!”
“But I want you to come!” He cries. “I need someone to keep count of my drinks—”
“Use a marker and tally it on your arm.”
“But then what if I need to throw up—”
“Then throw up.”
“... Jungkook will be there!”
You blink at him.
“So?”
Hobi lets go of your arm and raises a brow at you. “What do you mean so? Isn't he your boyfriend?”
His accusation has you tongue-tied. This is the first time you’ve ever heard such an absurd thing! Jungkook became a part of the friendgroup after you. He’s the newbie. Actually, he has a whole other set of friends aside from you guys. Why? Because he’s cool. That’s it. Everyone on campus knows him and truth be told; he deserves his hype. He’s good-looking, kind, and a little weird (in a good way). He’s funny and smart (but not in an obnoxious way)... He’s just… Kind of good at everything? It intimidates you and often leaves you daydreaming.
Come to think of it, everything happens by coincidence. Yours and his lectures usually start and end around the same time. Not to mention that he also loves the library! He usually walks you home after your study sessions. But, yeah… Aside from these things—you and Jungkook aren’t actually that close.
“W-what? I’m not dating Jungkook! Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” you ask, careful not to sound too noisy.
Hobi shakes his head. “Girlfriend? Yeah… You.”
Your eyes widen.
In a panic, you hiss at Hobi. “Don’t start rumours! That’s embarrassing for him to be associated with me—”
“Oh shut up,” Hobi laughs. “Do not get all insecure and pick me when the campus crush has literally been drooling over the past few weeks. Everybody knows. Everybody talks about it! Besides, they talk about him being all lovestruck—not you! So, spill it. What did you do, huh? Did you manifest it or some shit—”
“With all the time I spend in class, work, and the library… You think I have time to manifest?” you chuckle at him, ultimately trying to dismiss his suspicion.
Hobi rolls his eyes at you.
“For someone who reads fanfics and book loads of romance stories… You’re dense as fuck.”
Tilting your head at him, you try to find the words to defend yourself and fail.
He’s right.
You are dense.
But that never hurt anyone before… So why does it matter?
“Earth to ___?” Hobi waves his hands to your face. You blink, brushing your thoughts away. Offering him a tired smile, he looks at you weirdly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you exhale. “Why?”
“You’re blushing like crazy,” he teases, poking your cheek. Your hands fly to your cheeks. He’s right. They feel warm and the sudden embarrassment just made you feel even more flustered. Then, he nudges you.
“Get it together!” Hobi mutters, “Your boyfriend is coming!"
Turning your head, you see Jungkook making his way through the doors. He has his backpack on one shoulder and his eyes glued to his phone. Like muscle memory, he turns his heels and walks toward your direction.
“Oh my god,” you hit Hobi’s arm. “Why did you plant these thoughts when he’s literally—”
“Plant thoughts? Babes, it’s reality. Helllooooo?” Hobi sings, tauntingly.
You pout at him, unable to take this lighthearted.
Then, before you know it, Jungkook approaches you.
He pulls the seat next to you out and settles in. After offering a fist bump to Hobi, he quickly leans his body over and places his hand on your knee. He’s always done this but why was it suddenly so different now? Was it always like this and you never noticed until now? Until Hobi…
Wow…
“Hey, you.” Jungkook greets you warmly.
“... H-hi.”
He gives you a weird look. You avoid his eyes in return. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Why aren’t you packed up yet? Aren't we going to the party?”
Jungkook eyes your spread of notes on the table. You clunch your iPad closer to you and shrug. “We? It’s you. Aren’t you going to the party?”
Jungkook returns your question with a grin. “No. Us. You, specifically. You, especially.”
“Yeah, ___!” Hobi chimes cheekily. “Aren’t you going to the party?”
Hesitantly, you shake your head.
“N-no… I have too much work to do. Here! I’ll just—” you pause your sentence and reach for Hobi’s arm. Pushing his sleeve up, you take the sharpie from your pencil case and write on his arm.
If piss drunk, please return to ___.
(xxx) xxx-xxxx <3
Hobi reads it sideways and yanks his arm back.
“I hate you,” he utters. With laser eyes, he glares at Jungkook. “Tell her you’re coming to the party. Drag her to come! She’s always here! Homework can wait for tomorrow!”
Jungkook exchanges looks with you. With a soft gaze, he shrugs and turns to Hobi.
“She doesn’t wanna go.”
Hobi groans.
“Fine. Let’s go. Let’s leave—”
“I’m staying,” Jungkook says calmly. "She's not going... Neither am I."
He picks his backpack up from the ground and begins to unzip it. Taking out his notes and laptop, he looks up and smiles at Hobi. “Can I see your arm?”
Huffing, Hobi shows Jungkook your note. As Hobi rambles on and on about how you and Jungkook are party poopers, Jungkook takes your Sharpie and crosses your number out.
If piss drunk, please return to ___. Jungkook
(xxx) xxx-xxxx <3
(xxx) xxx-xxxx
For the second time tonight, Hobi reads his arm sideways and yanks it back. He squints at the unfamiliar number.
“Why’d you cross her number out? Whose number is this?” Hobi asks.
“Mine,” Jungkook states, smiling at the correction. “Call me if you need anything.”
“What? Why?”
Jungkook blinks. “I’m not really crazy about ___’s number being on your arm for other guys to have and call her with.”
Hobi’s mouth drops. He slowly turns to you and gulps. Blinking at you slowly, he gives you crazy eyes. “You can not be this dense, ___. Jungkook is literally ripping me into shreds in his head right now—”
You laugh.
“Go. Have fun! Call me if you need anything.”
Hobi turns to Jungkook.
Jungkook smiles at him sweetly with his eyes closed. He shakes his head slowly and wiggles his finger at him. “Don’t call her.”
With that, Hobi grumbles a few exchanges before packing his stuff up. He waves goodbye and tells you that you’re lame one last time. You agree with him and wave him goodbye. As he leaves, Jungkook moves his chair closer to you.
“So… Same schedule? Study until 9PM and then I walk you home? Or are you hungry tonight? Maybe we can wrap this up by 7:30PM and grab a bite to eat? I know a really good burger spot just up campus—why’d you do that?”
Your body stiffens.
“Do what?”
Jungkook eyes your chair distance.
“You moved away.”
What the heck… How did he even notice? It’s not like you moved across the table! You just moved like… Half an inch.
“No, I didn’t,” you deny. “But yeah… Sure! I’ve been craving a good burger with extra cheese—what are you doing?”
“I’m moving closer to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you lied to my face and moved away.”
“N-no!”
Jungkook inches his face closer to yours. He boops your nose and scrunches his. “You sniff whenever you lie. Did you know that?”
“N-no…”
“Now you do.”
For the first time ever… You lose your breath. It’s like you forgot how to breathe. He’s so close to you. His eyes are so doey, you’re literally getting lost in them. The scar he has on his left cheek… You can see it so clearly—the detail of how his skin healed and all. His hair is brushing above his eyebrows and you can’t help but realize how much you like the way it falls on his face. He’s… Cute?
Oh god.
“D-dont do that—uhh—” You move away from him. This time, there’s an obvious space between you two. Jungkook straightens his posture, completely confused by your burst of emotion. It’s… Conflicting? He swears you two were about to kiss… Now, what’s going on?
“___? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks with a gentle tone.
You turn away and shove your notes to your face. Mumbling into the paper, you tell him what’s on your mind. “Everyone thinks you have a crush on me and it’s embarrassing.”
Jungkook doesn’t hear you well.
“Say that again,” he requests. Without warning, he takes the paper from your hands, leaving you to face him. “Don’t act all cute. What is it?”
You stay silent and contemplate.
Was this worth saying? Was this worth addressing? Would it change anything between you two after? What about the burgers? You’ve been craving a cheesy burger like crazy—
“It’s fine if you don’t feel comfortable. You can tell me later or never. I don’t mean to be pushy—”
Then, you blurt it out.
“Everyone thinks you have a crush on me… Or something.”
Jungkook doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t hold his breath.
He doesn’t deny it.
“I do have a crush on you.”
Your throat feels dry. What?! Has he lost his mind?
“W-what? You can’t j-just—”
Jungkook tilts his head and pouts.
“I don’t really understand why I should deny it. Why should I lie? Why should I make an excuse? This is how I feel. You just found out earlier than the confession… I guess this is it though, right?” He laughs.
You hit his chest.
“This isn’t funny!”
“Why can’t it be funny?” Jungkook laughs even harder. He catches your wrist and holds you still. “Doesn’t it make you laugh? That everybody on campus watched me wait outside your classes every day for almost 3 months… That everybody waits on me to go to parties but I don’t show up because I rather walk you home and stay home… That everybody on campus watched me enter this goddamn library of a snoozefest—”
“Hey! I like it here.”
“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes at you. “I like you. That’s why I’m here.”
“I… I thought you wanted to study.”
Jungkook laughs even louder, earning a few hushes from others nearby. He groans, throwing his head back. “I can’t even fucking laugh in here without getting in trouble. Why the hell would I like this place?”
“... To study!”
“To be with you.”
You shut up.
No words, no thoughts, no feelings.
Okay…
Feelings. Lots of them.
“I don’t understand why you’re so overwhelmed,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning his head against your shoulders. “I thought you knew. I thought you figured it out by now. I wasn't exactly discrete."
You sit still, not knowing if you should move or let him settle in. Before you can decide, he sits himself up and grabs your hand. He squeezes it tightly and brings it to his lips. Kissing your hand, he looks at you.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re dense. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know how you feel right now. I’ll win you over… You’ll fold."
You yank your hand away from him. In response, he leans over and kisses the side of your head instead. You gasp, but your cheeks blush. Quickly, you cover your face with your hands. He laughs heartily, tugging you close to him. You bury your face in his chest and groan at the sinking feeling of wanting to be anywhere but here. This was humiliating!
And just when you think it can't get any worse, Jungkook wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. As he pats your back, he murmurs—
"You're falling for me already, aren't you?"
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big flirt!
MDNI 18+
summary: your friends force you to go out to a gay bar with them, and ellie buys you a drink.
content/tw: alcohol mention, subtop!ellie, slightly dom/switch!reader, reader and ellie are both drunk, face sitting(r!receiving), tribbing, strap-on(r!recieving), reader is called “girl” once or twice, afab!reader, reader is neither masc nor fem, college!ellie and reader, astrophysics major!ellie
notes: i left the ending written in away that i might add another part to this fic! lmk if u want that lol
┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °
“hey, 6 o’clock, there’s a certified hottie staring at you-“ one of your well-meaning friends tells you, motioning (not very) discreetly behind you.
you turn around and your jaw nearly drops. the girl staring at you is stunning, with her dark auburn hair and flannel worn over a wife-beater, sitting at the bar and sipping her drink. you make eye contact with her momentarily, and turn back to your friend, mary, with wide eyes.
mary laughs, “are you gonna go for it?”
your friends had forced you to go out to this gay bar with the intention of meeting new people after a break up that left you a complete wreck. it’d been about 3 months since your ex broke the news that they weren’t in love with you anymore, and it made any kind of romantic prospects leave a bitter taste in your mouth till this day. not to mention, you’re wayyy too drunk at this point to be on your A-game with flirting. you make a face and mary groans.
“come on, dude! she’s gorgeous, clearly interested, what else could you ask for?”
you make another face, “just because she’s staring doesn’t mean that she’s necessarily interested-“
“how about if she’s walking over to you right now? does that make her interested?”
you hear someone clear their throat behind you, and you give mary a murderous look before turning to the stranger with a smile.
she gives you a slightly awkward smile in return, “hey. i, um, i’m sorry if this is forward, but could i buy you a drink?”
your stomach is absolutely in knots, but you nod. “yeah, i’d love that.”
the stranger gives you a relieved smile in return, extending her hand to you, “i’m ellie. what’s your drink?”
you give her your name, “-and just a rum and coke, thank you so much.”
ellie’s clearly pretty drunk as well, which makes you feel a little better. she leads you back over to the spot at the bar she was sitting at, giving you her hand to help as you hop onto the excessively tall bar seats. she gives the bar tender your drink order and orders another whiskey on the rocks for herself.
“so, do you come to this bar a lot?” you ask, and inwardly cringe at yourself. ‘i basically just asked “so, you come here often?” great.’
ellie makes a so-so motion with her hand, “sometimes, not very often though. i study astrophysics so i don’t usually have the free time to deal with a hangover.”
your eyebrows raise and your drunk brain speaks before you think, “wow, smart girl.”
ellie’s cheeks flush a little, and she looks down, “i don’t know about that, but i’m really passionate about it, which is more than half the battle, i think.”
you scoff, “please, you’re literally studying rocket science. you can’t convince me that you’re not smart now.”
ellie laughs a little, “okay, then i’ll just shut up and take the compliment. thank you.”
the bar tender gives you two your drinks and ellie takes a sip of her own, “so, what do you do?”
you take a sip of your own drink, “i’m a student right now too, i’m actually studying-“
suddenly, you hear a familiar beat in the background, and you stop talking, a (likely goofy) smile growing on your face, “oh my god, i fucking love this song. nicki minaj literally cannot miss.”
ellie laughs brightly at that, raising an eyebrow, “i absolutely fucking agree. do you wanna dance?”
“really?”
ellie nods, taking a large gulp of her whiskey, “for sure. i couldn’t live with myself knowing i cheated a pretty girl like you out of a dance break.”
you giggle and nod, chugging the rest of your drink faster than you probably should. ellie takes your hand and leads you out the the dance floor where there’s a large crowd of people dancing together. you pull ellie against you, your actions emboldened by the alcohol in your system. ellie immediately goes to hold on your hips, your bodies moving against each other.
you don’t really think to much about how you’re dancing, just letting your body move how it wants to. before you even realize what you’re doing, you’ve turned around in ellie’s hold, grinding your ass back against her hips. when you realize what’s happening, you nearly stop, but when you feel the tight grip of ellie’s hands on your hips and the way she’s grinding back into you, you relax. you stand back up straight, and wrap your arm up and behind you, holding onto the back of ellie’s head, which is now tucked against your neck. when you feel her lips against your jugular, you inhale sharply, pressing more into her.
you feel her kisses trail down to your shoulder, and you thank your good luck for deciding to wear a tank top. you feel her pelvis digging into your ass, and you can’t be sure because the music is so loud, but you swear you hear her moan.
you turn back around in her arms, and before either of you realize what’s happening, you’re locked into a heated kiss. your arms wrap around her neck, and one of her hands sneaks down from your hips to squeeze your ass. you moan into her mouth, and she takes the opportunity for her tongue to explore your mouth. when you separate, you’re both panting.
“wanna get an uber back to mine?” she asks loudly over the blasting music, and you nod right away.
——
the uber driver for the ride back will likely leave ellie with a low rating, thanks to the two of you not being able to detach your mouths from each other for longer than 5 seconds, but you two eventually make it back to ellie’s apartment.
once you’re in her bathroom, you push her back onto her bed between kisses and straddle her. she kisses your neck and chest, pushing your tank top up. you take it off for her and you’re left in your bra. ellie grins and starts kissing the exposed parts of your breasts.
“god, you’re so fucking pretty-“ ellie says as she takes off your bra, immediately latching onto one of your nipples. you moan softly and hold onto her head, your fingers threading through her hair.
you feel her warm tongue smooth over the hardened bud before switching to the other to give it the same attention. as she does, her hands come up to squeeze your tits. she’s still sucking and nipping gently as she looks up at you, her doe eyes stirring the heat in your belly. when she unlatches; her lips are a little swollen and wet with saliva.
“what am i allowed to do? what do you need?” ellie asks, smoothing her hands down your waist and hips.
you shiver slightly, “anything.”
ellie starts kissing your neck again, sucking a hickey into the crook of your neck, “you’re gonna need to be more detailed then that, doll.”
you bite your lip, your tipsy brain racing, “i need you to fuck me.”
ellie pulls back, a wide grin growing on her face, and she kisses your collarbone. “jesus christ, i’d fucking love too… can you sit on my face first?”
your exhale sharply and nod. ellie lies back on the bed and you slide off ellie, kicking off your jeans, leaving your underwear on, before crawling back up ellie’s body.
ellie grips your thighs as you position yourself over her face. “fuck, you smell good… you this wet for me, babe?”
you nod again, your cheeks hot.
her smile is a little cocky as she looks up at your face, and licks over the wet fabric of your underwear. your legs jolt a little and you let out a shaky breath.
ellie shoves her face further between your legs, and you swear you hear her whimper. she pulls your underwear to the side, and licks a broad stripe up your cunt.
you moan, your eyes falling shut as you hold onto her headboard.
she pulls back, “i said sit on my face, babe, not hover-“
ellie’s hands pull on your thighs so you rest your weight on her face fully. ellie becomes borderline ravenous, her tongue lapping at your pussy, slurping you up as her fingers dig into the fat of your ass and thighs.
you bite on your fist to muffle your loud moans, but ellie will have none of that, her arm reaching up to pull yours away from your face.
after a moment, ellie sticks her tongue fully out, letting you rub your clit against it as you please. your breaths become more and more unsteady.
ellie’s hands on your ass help guide your hips, and when she moves to suck on your clit, the suction makes your orgasm hit you like a freight train, bucking your hips against ellie’s face.
when you’ve come down, ellie helps you off of your face, and rummages through her drawer to grab her strap.
you stop her, your hand against her chest, “i wanna feel you against me first.”
ellie doesn’t need to hear anymore, and quickly starts taking off her clothes as you take off your underwear. she moves so she’s on top of you, hiking one of your legs over her shoulder. the moment her wet cunt grinds into yours, you both moan, your eyes rolling back into your head.
“you feel so fucking perfect, so fuckin good for me-“ she rambles
ellie starts thrusting her hips against yours, and you watch her small, perky tits bounce with each movement. your hand trails up to squeeze one of them and she whimpers softly. when you pinch her nipple between your fingers, she moans gutturally and moves against you faster. you’re not at all in control of how loud you’re moaning at this point.
“look at you, sweet girl, so fucking gorgeous-“
it isn’t long before your oversensitive clit is being brought closer to another orgasm. you make obscene noises as you cum again, ellie’s eyes trained on your face the whole time.
“there you go- let me cum all over that pretty- ah, fucking- mmmh, pussy-“ ellie grunts before cumming a few moments after you.
you both take about 5 seconds to recover before she’s scrambling to grab the strap. once ellie has it on, you lick your lips, staring at it.
“can i ride it?”
ellie’s eyes go big, and she basically throws herself onto the bed, lying back and patting her thigh.
you giggle and climb on top of her, kissing her lips again. she kisses you back eagerly, grabbing your hips and thrusting her hips up, but you pull back.
“nope. hands off and stay still.” you order, and her already very dilated eyes look like pools of black at this point. she nods, biting her lip.
you take the strap and run the tip of it through your folds. ellie whines as she watches this, her hips bucking a little with her fists clenching the sheets below her.
“hey, what did i just say?” you ask, a mischievous smile on your face.
she takes a shaky breath, “sorry.”
you laugh a little, “so needy, ellie.”
you make eye contact with her as your hand travels down your own body, taking the time to squeeze and play with your own breasts. meanwhile, ellie looks like she’s practically salivating.
your hand travels down your stomach to your cunt, rubbing your own clit for a second as ellie watches, her mouth agape.
your fingers spread your folds and dip inside you for a moment, curling up and making you moan.
ellie is desperate at this point, “please, jesus fucking christ, i need you so bad, you don’t under-“
you withdraw your fingers, giving ellie a look. “hmmm… sounds like you need something to keep that mouth of yours busy, huh?”
you bring your slick-covered fingers up to her mouth. “open.”
ellie immediately opens her mouth and starts sucking off your fingers, whimpers muffled.
you giggle, “awww, you’re too fucking cute… now keep sucking on those, yeah?”
without warning, you sink down onto ellie’s strap and start bouncing. ellie whines, her eyes fixated on your tits as they bounce with you, still eagerly sucking on your fingers. ellie’s eyes fall shut for a moment as the base of the harness gives her clit the friction she’s craving.
you keep bouncing on her strap, watching the fucked out glaze in ellie’s eyes, half-lidded and fully dilated.
“awww… you just needed to get fucked, that’s all… look how pretty you are…” you tease and ellie starts whimpering like she’s gonna come from your words alone.
after a few minutes, you start to tire and you take out the fingers in her mouth, slowing down, “now, fuck me like you mean it, ellie.”
those words are all the permission ellie need before flipping you over and drilling her hips into yours.
“-pussy’s so fuckin- fuck, so fuckin’ tight for me, babe-“ ellie whimpers, tucking her face into your neck.
you would find it more amusing that ellie is acting like this strap is physically attached to her if she wasn’t making you feel so fucking good. you cling onto her as she fucks you, slamming into you just right, over and over.
“i need to cum, please let me cum- i can’t fucking-“ ellie rambles, and you cut her off
“i’m close too, baby, it’s okay-“ you pant, your eyes clenching shut as she fucks you into your third orgasm.
ellie’s hips bottom out and she grinds herself deep into you as she cums against the base of the harness, her moans needy and breathy.
when you both start coming down, she pulls out and tosses the strap away wordlessly, going back to cuddle against you.
you’re completely exhausted (and both of you still slightly drunk) as you let her spoon you, barely saying anything before slipping into a deep sleep.
———
“so you just… left? without even saying goodbye?” mary asks over the phone as you walk into the music building on your college campus, lugging your beat up guitar with you.
“what was i supposed to do? make her breakfast and thank her for the 3 orgasms?” you ask, holding the door open for a girl running in behind you.
the girl gives you a look and your face gets hot, realizing she overheard what you said.
“i mean… maybe? she was super hot,” mary responds, slightly agitated
you groan, “yeah, she was hot, but i barely learned anything about her and we were both drunk. not necessarily promising grounds for a budding relationship.”
you walk up the steps to the room you’re headed to, checking your phone again for the right room number.
“yeah, but still. she seemed like she would be cool,” mary justifies and you sigh.
“well, if i ever see her again while we’re not drunk and horny, maybe i’ll ask her out. but right now, that’s really not a priority.” you say, finding the right practice room.
mary starts to talk again but you interrupt her, “i’m sorry, mary, but i have to go.”
“wait, why? i know you don’t have class right now.”
“i’m taking those private guitar lessons to satisfy that extracurricular credit, remember? it’s my first lesson, so i really don’t wanna be late,“ you say, and mary sighs.
“okay, whatever. have fun, and i’ll talk to you after?”
you agree and end the phone call, looking to check the room number again before you walk in.
your forced, ‘make a good impression’ smile is immediately wiped off your face when you see the familiar auburnette playing the guitar in front of you.
she looks up at you and her cheeks go red almost instantaneously.
you say, “sorry, i must be in the wrong room- i have a lesson-“
ellie’s eyebrows raise and she lets out a slow sigh, “you, uh, you have a lesson?”
you nod, gripping your guitar case.
ellie laughs a little, like this is some sort of prank that was pulled on her:
“then you’re in the right room, because i’m pretty sure i’m supposed to teach you guitar this semester.”
you sharply exhale the breath you were holding in as the realization of what’s going on sets in, “but… you’re an astrophysics major?”
ellie chuckles again, “and a music minor, babe.”
you restrain the groan that you desperately want to make, your stomach sinking.
ellie pats the empty seat next to her, “well… let’s get started then. you know any bar chords yet?”
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Telling Felix Catton you’re pregnant <333
Felix Catton (Saltburn) x fem! Reader headcanons xo
AN: hiiii these are some headcanons I made :p im too lazy to proofread Dx if you enjoy lmk if you want part 2! Blink twice and you’ll miss the smut xx
- first of all, your relationship started out as a one night stand situation because for the love of God Felix cannot keep a woman or anyone around for more than a few months—weeks even.
- You, however, were a different situation. He saw other people, you saw other people, but the two of you always kept each other locked in the back of both of your heads. Wether you needed him as a very exciting stress reliever or he needed you to release any ounce of frustration he had, the two of you were just a simple phone call away. And not just drunk booty calls.
- The feeling of his broad shoulders pressed against your frame as he would effortlessly lift you up and pin you to the wall, whispering sweet melodies into your ears as he thrusted with all of his might to make you feel good—no, more than good. He’d never admit it, but for a girl like you, he’d give you everything, even if meant he’d have nothing. “Such a good girl,” he’d purr, feeling you melt under the sound—and for a better word, control of his asserting voice
- The two of you lovebirds were loud, extremely noisy and often torturous for the other students near your dorm, who were either trying to cram for exams or focus on non-sexual activities. You would moan without a care in the world and especially when you felt him release his seed in you for the first time, which you could only assume wasn’t planned nor talked about between the two of you. It felt too sweet, and so pure with how he breathlessly smiled at your sweaty, blushing face after the deed was done. Said smile being enough to make you fall into his little trap and roll back over into another intense round of sex
- With Felix, it was like walking on a dream that never seemed to end. You could be careless, indiscreet and whatever the hell you wanted to be. he provided you with a sense of being free from the real world and wholeheartedly invited you deep into the unrealistic life of Felix Catton.
- That dream, the very one that appeared to be endless, came crashing down. What ruined it? Two little pink lines.
- With an eyebrow piercing that adults despised, a stunning model-like body, and a reputation for tossing girls around like they were paper planes; Felix was fuck buddy material, not father material.
- Sure, he has enough money to knock you up ten times and make sure every child would be provided for, but you were you. Yes, you came from wealth but not the type of catton wealth that would probably leave a child with a ridiculously expensive live-in nanny as if it was nothing. Knowing how your parents felt, there was no way in hell they would be supportive and even just the simple thought of them meeting Felix made you cringe to the point of triggering your morning sickness again.
- You would avoid Felix like the plague you read about in your boring history textbooks and on the rare occurrence you ran into him heading out on his bike or going for a well deserved drink, you would bolt as if you had to run for your life. Facing him was just the beginning of your problems
- So when you finally mustered the courage to tell him and unfortunately for you, it had to be at the university’s sleazy lounge pub, Felix was there in all his glory and sat in his usual spot. Farleigh seemed more interested in drinking than caring about what was being said, a group of girls were scattered around the boys and obnoxiously fake laughed at whatever Felix said, and there was that new guy whose name you couldn’t remember to save your life. Oliver? You thought it was, but that clearly didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was you and Felix.
- Felix nearly chokes on his drink seeing you walk towards him, your head down and your tail between your legs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
- You ask him to talk immediately, ignoring how content he looks. How his solemn eyes instantly sparked with life again and his bored expression turned into a relish of happiness. He was thrilled.
- “I’m pregnant.”
- He stares blankly at you, seeing you tear up as if you just admitted something horrible
- A baby? And a baby with you? Nothing about that was horrible. In fact, he often pictured a future with you, even if it seemed insane.
- i he’s not angry. In fact his thick brows soften and somehow in the midst of all the chaos of noise surrounding the two of you, his words are very clear.
- “I’m glad it’s with you.”
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OUR SUMMER- jake sim x reader
SYNOPSIS- after 4 long years, this was the end. This was the last summer before everyone went off to university , and to fully honor it, you all decide to make a bucket list, completing every point through the entirety of summer while also discovering feelings that were hidden for so long.
PAIRING- jake sim x fem!reader
GENRE- teen romance, friends to lovers, summer fling?, fluff, highschool/college au, oneshot
WORDCOUNT- 8k
WARNINGS- sexual jokes, alcohol use, underage drinking, suggestive content (no smut tho)!
PERM TAGLIST (and normal taglist)- @bubblytaetae @qghosty @viagumi @strwberrydinosaur @enhacolor @rendezrei @shinsou-rii @notrosemary @tocupid
You knew this was the last summer. You knew because after 13 hard, long and excruciating years of education, Jake finally got accepted into his dream college, leaving you alone in this sad, miserable town.
As he was about to move on, live a happy, fresh, new life at university, you were going to be left all alone with your feelings for him.
It was sad. But while he was here, you tried to enjoy every moment spent together. It was also extremely hard to not just fly into his arms and tell him how much in love you really are. But your brother was always watching. He was always there.
Lee Heeseung, your brother who you swore you hated, was the reason you got to meet Jake in the first place. They met in freshman year, when Heeseung decided to take soccer more seriously and actually pursue that career path. He would notoriously make fun of Jake for having pictures of soccer players plastered all over his walls. That's when Heeseung, Jake, Jay and Sunghoon became an inseparable friend group, doing quite literally everything together.
You remember everything so well. You still laugh about the time when they watched The Conjuring, and got so incredibly scared, they couldn't even go to the toilet alone. Heeseung, being the oldest, would be some sort of watcher, bodyguard, standing still in front of the bathroom doors, as all of them took turns using the toilet. As disgusting as it was, it's a fond memory for both you and them.
Heeseung used to always complain about you tagging along with them since you were a year younger than all of them, constantly latching onto them, but he got used to it. Jake was the only one who would always invite you in the beginning, and fight with Heeseung whenever complaints started spewing from his mouth. That was probably the first thing that made you fall for him.
Heeseung chose a college in town, deciding to do pedagogics on the side while he still pursued his soccer career. Jay and Sunghoon also chose a college nearby, only one town away, meaning the three of them would always be here.
Jake on the other side had some sick ambitions. When he set his mind on UCLA, he did everything in his power to get in. There was nothing wrong in that, but how could he leave them? How could he leave you?
"Let's make a bucket list" Jay said as all of you, plus your best friend, Yunjin, hogged the living room couch in Jake's house.
Another reason you didn't want Jake to leave. That damn couch. Everything in the 4 years of your friendship probably happened or started on that couch.
"We make one every summer" Heeseung said, shoving some popcorn into his mouth "And always end up freestyling it" he added unclearly, hence all the food in his mouth.
"You're disgusting," Yunjin inquired, pointing out Heeseung's disgusting habit.
He just mumbled a 'fuck you' in response and shoved another handful into his mouth.
"But this summers different, '' Jay said, reminding you once again that this was the last truly youthful summer your friend group would share.
You knew very well that everything would change when they went away to college. Obviously, they could come home for summer, but new friends, a buzzing, new, shiny social life were only a couple of reasons for them to not visit so often when summer comes around next year. The adult life they were about to step into was only gonna allow them to finally party all night long, go on road trips across the country and meet people who they would prefer to spend all their time with. So Jay was right, this summer was different, cause it was the last one.
"I'm down" Jake said, grabbing a pen and paper from the drawer. He passed it to Jay, who wrote a big, and definitely sloppy, 'OUR SUMMER'.
"Skydiving" Sunghoon said excitedly, pitching in the first idea.
"You know damn well" Yunjin said "Let's make it a tiny bit more realistic" Sunghoon just furrowed his eyebrows and continued to put on his thinking face.
"Let's do a sleepover. You know, like the ones we'd do in our childhood. Blanket fort and all'' you said, turning your face to Jay, as he was the designated leader for this bucket list making.
"I like that," Jake said, giving you a cheeky smile.
You'd rather he be rude towards you than give you all these weird signals. None of the guys would be as nice to you as he was. What man would agree with you on everything, bring you anything you wanted at any time, give you rides at the latest hour, handpick flowers for you on a random Wednesday and buy you things just because they reminded him of you, if he didn't like you like that. Yet still, you were too slow to catch on.
"Sleepover. Blanket fort and all" Jay mumbled as he wrote down the first point to your list. "How about we drive down to that lake, get some beer, talk and shit?" he asked after he finished writing.
"With your wackass, dodgy looking fake ID, I'm guessing" Yunjin said, laughing.
"Give me some credit, it works every fucking time" Jay answered, pulling it out from his pocket.
"Okay James Blunderbuss, write it down" Heeseung, said examining the ID "Anton really did you wrong with that last name"
"Blackout drunk at Hanbin's birthday party" Sunghoon pleaded, pushing Jay to quickly write that down.
"Do you really need an excuse to get drunk that bad?" you asked, and Sunghoon hurriedly nodded his head. You laughed and told Jay to write it down.
"Kiss at least 20 sexy ladies," Heeseung said, puckering his lips.
"No way" Jake shaked his head "You can go be a slut on your own"
"Write down kiss Heeseung’s sister for Jake, cause I know he wants to so bad" Sunghoon laughed, emphasizing the 'so' part.
Jake playfully pushed him with his elbow, visibly getting red. You tried to laugh it off, but deep down you knew how bad you wanted it, unlike Jake, who took it as a funny joke.
"Let's do an early Secret Santa" Yunjin said.
"Yo, that's gonna be dope. I'm gonna get you that pink vibrator we saw at the store yesterday" Sunghoon said, turning to Heeseung. They honestly thought it was so hilarious.
"Not sure that's how it works, but i'll write Secret Santa down" Jay said
You all brainstormed ideas for the next hour. Some were honestly pretty bad, but the time you spent coming up with the list, will always be a good memory to you.
***
Near the end of May, in a room eloped in extreme heat, covered with sheets that clanged onto your skin, with a faulty air conditioner running that tried to keep up with the temperature, your phone buzzed.
Pulling you out of a trance, you quickly grabbed it hoping it was your delivery man, yet Jake's name decorated your home screen. It was getting late, the night crawling closer and closer, so the notification surprised you. You unlocked your phone hurriedly, wanting to see his message as fast as possible.
Jake: You wanna go on a drive in an hour?
If your brother wasn't home you'd honestly scream.
What had gotten into him? You've been trying to send him signals for the past four years, and suddenly after all that time he'd picked up on them? Or was he just trying to be friendly, knowing well he wouldn't be here next year.
You quickly replied with a 'sure' and got up to get yourself looking as pretty for him as possible. Maybe it was a little sad, the fact you were trying so hard for a man who didn't care, but it made you happy.
"What you getting all dolled up for?" Heeseung laughed as he stood in your doorway.
"Going out with Yunjin" you mumbled, delicately applying your lip tint.
"In a miniskirt and full beat on your face? You ain't slick young lady" he pointed out.
"We're taking photos for Insta. And this really isn't a miniskirt" you came up with yet another lie.
You honestly had no idea why you were lying to him. He probably wouldn't bat an eye if you just said you're going out with Jake. He's too dumb to even think twice about it.
"Can you just get out?" you turned to him, motioning for him to leave your room.
He put his hands up chuckling, and closed your door.
Your phone buzzed once again, signaling it was time for you to leave.
He parked his car just around the street. Heeseung called him earlier asking to hangout, but he already had plans. With you.
Obviously he couldn't tell Heeseung that, afraid your brother would blow up at him. If only he knew how dumb Heeseung really was when it came to stuff like this. He'd probably think you two are getting a surprise gift for him.
"You look pretty" Jake smiled, as he got out to open the door for you.
A light rosy tint decorated your cheeks, as you quietly thanked him.
"Didn't you want to hangout with Hoon and Hee? I saw them playing Fifa when I was leaving" you asked the boy next to you.
You couldn't help but stare at his face. He was so perfect in every way, so perfect you couldn't even put it into a cohesive sentence if you wanted to.
"I'd rather hang out with my favorite girl," he smiled, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you.
"Woah okay, what about Rei then?" you questioned sarcastically.
"You will never let that go, will you?" Jake laughed, reminiscing about his freshman year crush.
"Well you were the one that couldn't stop yapping about her freshman year" you said, and he just put a finger to your lips, begging for you to stop talking about that embarrassing time in his life.
Rei was a senior, and honestly you envied her so much back then. Even though she was so incredibly nice, you couldn't help but blame her for 'stealing your man'.
"If you wanna talk so bad, we can talk about Jungwon" he inquired, turning the table on you.
Jungwon was like your own Rei. Except this time, he was younger than you.
"We really don't need to though" you pouted playfully.
"Oh I really think we do though" he did the same "I was so jealous of him back then" he added with a small smile.
"You were? Why?" you asked curious why The Jake Sim would be jealous of some random guy.
The street lamps illuminated his face, making him shine brighter than ever. It still didn't feel real to you. Alone in a car with your older brother's best friend turned crush.
"He was the only thing you talked about. I guess I just didn't really like that" he answered, a fabricated confidence evident in his tone.
"Did you cry?" you asked with a pout.
"Obvi" he answered with a wide smile, looking at you. "You're so pretty Y/n, I hope you know that. And Jungwon is an asshole for rejecting such a gorgeous girl"
You believed he only said that to make you feel better about yourself, but it still made your insides swarm with butterflies.
He had looked at you differently that day. Not different in a 'you really need to let me go' way, but a 'i wish we were something more' way. His demeanor had changed for everyday going forward, and you would lie if you said you didn't like it.
***
"Why did Heeseung call me to ask if I'm hanging out with you?" Yunjin asked over the phone.
She called you just minutes after Jake dropped you off home.
"He wanted to check if I didn’t go hook up with some random guy probably" you answered, thanking god for such an intelligent best-friend that knew when to cover for you.
"Well, were you hooking up with some random guy? Oh my god, please tell me it was Ricky, that senior" she asked “Or Song Eunseok! He’s so fucking sexy, to be honest”
Yunjin had some odd obsession with Shen Ricky and Son Eunseok, seniors at your high-school. She loved finding people that she could treat as celebrities.
"I wish. Jake just wanted to hang out, and I guess I didn't feel like telling him the truth" you answered, painting your nails a dark red color.
"Did you two kiss?" Yunjin asked excitedly.
She was the only one that knew about your feelings for Jake. She was pretty awful at keeping secrets but this is something she swore she'd take to the grave with her, unless you two didn't work out.
"God no Yunjin, we didn't kiss. We just talked and got some food, nothing special" you answered chuckling.
If only she knew how much you actually wanted to kiss him. His lips, so plump and soft, begging to be kissed.
"If you ask me, I'd tell you to make a move on him," Yunjin said, voice calm.
"I know, you've already told me that a million times. But you know he's going away, and even if somehow he did want me, it wouldn't work out with him being so far away" you honestly didn't believe in long distance relationships. How could one fully trust their significant other knowing he's thousands of miles away from you?
"If anyone could make it work, it would be you two. But I don't want to pressure you into anything, just saying" she replied and you could feel the honesty in her tone.
***
On the 8th of June, Sunghoon decided that the group needs to start preparing for Hanbin's birthday party and execute the second point of your shared bucket list. He's the only one that didn't mind getting sloshed on a random Thursday.
"Do I really have to sit in the trunk?" Sunghoon asked, examining Jay's dirty trunk.
"Count the seats in this car, and you'll have your answer" Jay replied, stuffing the blankets into the trunk "I'm even making it more comfortable for you"
"Wow, thanks so much" Sunghoon mumbled, and with an angry expression got into the trunk.
"You look like an idiot in there" Jake said walking out of his house with a various arrangement of everyone's favorite snacks "And I'm pretty sure that's illegal"
"It's illegal only if they catch you" you said and covered Sunghoon with a thin white blanket.
"That makes it so much less obvious" Jake laughed and got into the backseat of Jay's car "How's my baby doing in the back there?" he asked, turning around to take a look at Sunghoon.
"Shut the fuck up" Sunghoon mumbled from under his blanket, and sticked out his middle finger.
"I'm calling shotgun, Heeseung" Yunjin glared at the purple haired boy, and quickly sat on her reserved seat.
"Are you really making me sit next to thing one and thing two over there" Heeseung asked his hand resting on the hood of the car in front of Yunjin.
Yunjin just shrugged and connected her phone to the aux. Thank god she was the dj for this trip cause you wouldn't physically and mentally be able to handle two hours listening to 'Heeseung's handpicked UK drill mix'.
Unlike others you liked the middle seat. It felt the closest to everyone in the car with great access to the beautiful view in front of the windshield.
"If only Heeseung wasn't next to you" Jake whispered, as you sat down next to him. You smiled and playfully nudged his shoulder.
"I can hear you" you heard Sunghoon's annoying voice behind you. You could also hear him playing the watermelon game. Sunghoon's screen time was for the most part that stupid game he wasn't even good at anyway.
"First we have to hit up my good friend Yeonjun at the gas station. Please call me James Blunderbuss for now, I really need to get in the role" Jay announced as everyone already got comfortable in their designated seats.
"No ones calling you that," Heeseung declared. 'James Blunderbuss' couldn't even get past your lips if you tried to. "Plus Yeonjun goes to our school you fucking dumbass"
***
The dazzling, hot sun sets on your skin, a soft wind blows in your face as Jay opens up a bottle of beer for everyone. The cold glass cools you down.
Something about this landscape and the surroundings was so refreshing and inviting. You've been here before, but this felt like a first.
"Drink up fast Heeseung, we're playing spin the bottle" Sunghoon declares and takes a long sip of his beer.
"You're a freak if you want me to kiss my own sister," Heeseung said with disgust in his voice.
"Then you're not playing. More chances for me to kiss the beautiful ladies in front of me" Sunghoon beamed, and chugged down the rest of his bottle.
"Can you sit or something for like one minute?" Jake asked, glaring at Sunghoon.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes playfully and turned to Jay next with a pleading look in his eyes.
"You fucking champ, chugged that bottle down like a pro. Good thing it was your last one for the next hour" Jay pouted, and continued scrolling through his playlist.
"First y'all make me sit in the trunk, and now I can't even drink some beer in peace" Sunghoon grumbles, and lays down on the soft material of his blanket.
"You going for a swim?" Jake turns to you, voice low.
He didn't know what was happening to him. Ever since the realization hit him that this is your last summer together, he wanted to spend everyday with you. Even if you were to sit in complete silence, it's the fact that you're together which made his heart feel fuzzy and warm.
You smiled and nodded "You want my beer Hoonie?" you asked Sunghoon who had already given up on his alcoholic dreams. His face lit up as he grabbed the bottle from you.
Jake grabbed your soft hand, and dragged you towards the glistening water.
You didn't exactly catch the moment when you fell for him. When you first saw a scrawny, Australian boy in your house, you well remember thinking he was just another one of Heeseungs dumb friends. Some things as simple as that made you question everything about your friendship with Jake.
"Is it cold?" you asked, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. Jake had already gotten in, and you'd noticed a slight disappointment in his expression.
"A little. But I'll keep you warm if needed" he smiled and gestured for you to get in.
You took off your blouse and pants quickly striding towards his toned figure. The water was indeed freezing (which was odd taking in account the warmth of that day), but Jake didn't let you get used to the temperature change, pulling you into his embrace as soon as you got close enough to him.
"Is it that bad?" he asked with a wide smile.
"Yeah, it is," you answered, your body trying to adjust to the water's temperature.
His eyes were shining, tanned skin glowing under the sun's warm embrace. He had the brightest smile plastered on his face, and you just couldn't help but stare.
"I wish you didn't have to go away," you hummed.
"You are always welcome to come visit me in LA. Alone, with Yunjin, Heeseung, just hit me up" he replied calmly.
You wondered how he could be so unbothered by this. He was about to embark on an individual journey, all alone in a big city, yet managed to remain calm. Or did he just not want to ruin it for everyone?
"If you pay for my transport, sure" you gave him a small smile, and slowly started pulling him towards the land.
"Anything for you" he replied, and you almost start to descend in the golden hope of his words.
In a matter of 10 minutes, bottles managed to surround everyone on the sheer blanket. Jay, who was supposed to refrain from drinking, was tipsy beyond repair. Yunjin and Heeseung looked fine, Sunghoon was the problem. His alcohol tolerance was so bad that two beers managed to take him out. You wondered how he was going to survive Hanbin's long awaited birthday party.
"I guess you'll have to drive tonight my boy" Heeseung beamed, turning his head towards Jake, and patting him on his his shoulder
Jake just laid down on the blanket letting the hot ground and sun burn into his skin.
He knew these were the last moments that he'd get to spend with everyone where everything will still be normal. Yes, he'd come back, his whole family is here, but it'd just be awkward and weird next summer. Everyone would have a different life, without one another. Next time, all of you will be different people.
…
“Who knew completing this bucket list would be so tiring,” Sunghoon said, throwing himself on the couch.
It was the 13th of June. Today was the day everyone, especially Sunghoon, has been waiting for. Sung Hanbin’s 18th birthday party.
So far you’ve completed only one thing, well unless someone has actually kissed ‘20 sexy ladies’, which you highly doubted.
“Are you taking a piss, we’ve only done one thing” Jay answered angrily, looking Sunghoon up and down “Well unless Jake has finally kissed Y/n” he added with a slight laugh, looking over at you and Jake.
Jake just rolled his eyes, and stuck his middle finger right into Jay’s face.
“Can we seriously not talk about them, they’re disgusting,” Heeseung pleaded, hating the sudden romantic interest between you and Jake. He didn’t really take it seriously though.
It seemed like everyone noticed something you two didn’t. Even though you’ve liked Jake for a while, you were fine with the fact that he would never reciprocate. But maybe you’ve just gotten so used to it, you couldn’t see through his actions.
“Hanbin asked if we’re pulling up today,” Yunjin announced.
“Why the fuck is my brother, my boy, my bae texting you and not me” Sunghoon suddenly rose from his comfortable position on the couch.
“It’s because they’re fucking on the low” Heeseung answered, completely unbothered, scrolling through Youtube shorts on his phone.
You knew very well that Hanbin and Yunjin have been talking for some time now, and to be completely honest, you thought everyone knew. But at the end of the day, you couldn’t really expect much from Sunghoon.
“That’s bullshit, he prefers pretty girls” Sunghoon said smiling widely at Yunjin
“Oh isn’t someone just so jealous I stole their boyfriend?” she answered, frowning sarcastically.
Sunghoon just rolled his eyes and returned to his previous position. Yunjin laughed and since no one disagreed, she replied to Hanbin with a quick confirmation.
“I can drive if y'all don't have a ride” Jake said, sitting next to you on the edge of the couch. Deep down he hoped Yunjin hadn’t already offered you a ride.
“No thanks, I am not sitting in the trunk again” Sunghoon said, reminiscing on the back pain he had to endure after the lake trip.
“As if I wanted to take you anyway” Jake replied, and turned his head towards you “What about you?” he asked, giving you a small smile.
“Yunjin is already driving me. But you can come with us if no one needs a ride” you smiled, and he was about to say yes until an annoying voice filled the room.
“My boy, who’s gonna go with you if not me?” Heeseung said, crushing Jake’s dreams in a second.
Even though it wouldn’t be the two of you alone, the mere thought of watching you get ready, and walking into Hanbin’s house with you like you're all his, made him excited. His mind was making up the wildest scenarios, and he would lie if he said he didn’t like it. Something inside him has changed, and Jake had a seemingly hard time figuring it out yet.
“Yeah sure” he nodded towards Heeseung, who was happy to score yet another free ride with Jake.
….
“So what, are you gonna finally talk to Ricky or Eunseok, or is your precious little crush on Jakey holding you back again?” Yunjin asked, as the two were getting ready in your bathroom.
You loved the girl but her nagging was like a punishment from the devil himself. She’s been begging you to ask out Shen Ricky or Song Eunseok ever since they just slightly smiled at you, or asked for your help. You never took any of those things seriously, but she seemed to see the situation differently.
“Yunjin honey, they are not interested in me. Plus, isn’t Eunseok dating Kazuha?” you asked, trying to turn the attention away from you knowing Yunjin loves gossip more than anything else, and she probably knew all about their breakup.
“They broke up two weeks ago. She cheated on him or something” she answered “So he’s single and ready for you” she added with a cheeky smile.
‘Yeah sure, sure. Well, I’m still waiting for Jake so it’s going to be a no” you responded, hoping she’d just let go of the whole Ricky Eunseok thing.
“Y/n you’ve been waiting for him way too long. I think it’s time to move on, literally so many cuter boys have asked you out and you’ve turned them all down. I don’t want to say you’ve been missing out, but you kinda have been.”
“I know, Yunjin. But something just tells me it’s not over yet. If he doesn’t ask me out this summer I promise I’ll hit up Eunseok, or Ricky, or Anton, whoever you want” you answered, another attempt to just end the topic all together.
“God, not Anton. Isn’t he like a Con Artist or something?”
….
As the long road came to an end, you had yourself double checking the address, cause no way in hell Sung Hanbin lived in an apartment complex so luxurious. Everything about it, from the bodyguard standing still in front of the large metal gates, or the tall, perfectly clean windows.
“You sure this it?” you asked Yunjin. It was stupid, she’s probably been here more than anyone else in the past month.
“Nah, I just drove all the way out here for fun” she chuckled, and unbuckled her seatbelt, stopping the car.
Another car had just pulled up next to you, the radio turned up to a max, music spilling from it. You shook your head, expecting it to be Jake and the rest of your friends.
“Wonbinnie!” Yunjin screamed, racing towards the black vehicle.
Yunjin wasn’t the type of girl to commit to any relationships. She liked a quick hookup, or the feeling of having more than one boy pinning for her. In some way you envied her confidence and mindset.
“Y/n!” you turned to see Eunseok’s gorgeous face yelling out to you. You smiled and quickly made your way towards him.
You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t like Eunseok just a little bit. He was such a sweet and caring person. Sometimes you wished he wasn’t so nice and handsome at the same time. He gave you a short side hug, and a pretty smile.
“How have you been? I heard you and Kazuha are through” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too early for those type of questions.
You waved at Seunghan and Anton who were stood behind him.
“Yeah, honestly I don’t really care” he laughed, and you could see it was genuine. You guessed they weren’t that serious after all “I see your date has left you already” he said, looking around the parking lot.
You turned around to see that Yunjin, along with Wonbin, was completely gone.
“Yeah, cause your fuckass friend took her. Doesn’t he know her and birthday boy have a thing going on?” you asked, pulling him towards the gates.
“Everyone knows,” Seunghan inquired, walking right behind you.
…
To be honest, you didn’t really know Hanbin. He was practically a stranger to you, never getting to really interact with him outside of school. Knowing Sunghoon and Jake, two of his best friends, made you feel at least a little closer to him.
“Yoo, look who showed up” Hanbin cheered, holding a red solo cup in his hand, greeting Eunseok with the other “I hoped your annoying asses wouldn’t pull up” he laughed, his tone laced with alcohol.
They just laughed and handed him a bottle of whiskey, you assumed that was their idea of a good gift.
“Happy to finally meet you, Y/n” Hanbin smiled at you, and put his hands up, signaling you to hug him, since his hands were already full. “I thought you’d come with Jake. Kinda surprised to see you pull up with these weirdos” you two laughed, and you let go of him, handing him yet another gift bag.
“Aren’t they here already?” you asked, looking around his place.
“Nah, Sunghoon probably did some stupid shit already, and they’re running late again” you fully believed that was the reason, a flood of odd memories with Sunghoon coming back to you.
“Yall can help yourself to anything, it’s all in the kitchen” Hanbin motioned all of you to the kitchen, a wide variety of beverages waiting to be digested.
You decided to text the group chat, a little concerned as to where they all went. All you got in reply was a picture of Sunghoon sitting on the toilet, face red.
“I’ll go look for Yunjin, see you guys around’ you turned to Eunseok, Seunghan and Anton smiling.
“Y/n! Before you go, Jay told me you’d be interested in a fake ID, you know, for a pretty girl like you I can make it 30$. Just hit me up” he smiled, pulling out his own counterfeit document.
‘Nicholas Flubbernoodle’
“Mhm, sure. I’ll text you” you smiled and left them in the kitchen. What was wrong with him, seriously.
The dining room wasn’t so crowded, only a couple people keeping a conversation going while sipping on some liquor. Guess this was their escape from the lively living room.
“Have you seen Yunjin anywhere?” you questioned the black haired boy who sat opposite from you.
“She was just here, I think,” Gunwook answered, not-so-helpfully “You want some?” he asked, pulling out a half empty bottle of Vodka.
“Sure” you answered, tired from searching for the only person you fully knew here.
“You’re with Jake, right? Yall cute or whatever” Gunwook said pouring you a cup of Vodka with cranberry juice.
“Nah” you said taking a large sip “Not yet though” you added.
“Damn you like him and shit? He don’t wanna ask you out though, huh?” he questioned.
You laughed. It was such a simple concept yet Gunwook was finding it so hard to understand. Yet it did make your heart beat faster when he initially thought you and Jake were dating. You looked over at the already empty cup next to you on the wooden table.
“The king is finally here” a faint voice you knew very well screamed into the crowd next door.
Sunghoon finally beat death in your house's bathroom, it seemed.
“You finally came!” you beamed as Jake’s pretty face appeared in the door frame.
You pat down the stool next to you, and he happily sat down placing his cup next to yours.
“I’ll leave you guys at it” Gunwook said, standing up from his seat, pulling the boy next to him with him “Good luck, Y/n” he added and left the room.
“What the fuck did that mean” Jake asked as his eyes followed the two boys out of the room.
“He’s drunk, that’s all” you smiled “Half an hour late, not cute Jake” you added quickly.
He laughed and pulled out his phone. With a few swift clicks he showed you a video of Sunghoon begging for mercy on the toilet. By the way he’s screaming you’d think he was getting brutally tortured.
“We gave him spicy noodles with a shit ton of lactose,” Jake laughed.
“Isn’t he like intolerant” you laughed, replaying the video one more time. “He’s never gonna live this down” you added and handed the phone back to Jake.
You spotted the juice and vodka Gunwook had left behind “You want some” you said pointing your head towards the bottles.
Jake nodded and chugged down his drink to make space for something else. You reached over for the bottles, and poured it in his empty cup.
“This is nice,” he said after taking a sip. The alcohol burned his throat a little bit, but he’s gotten used to it by now.
“Well no duh. Made by a girl like me, so obviously it’s nice” you smiled and poured yourself another cup.
“A hot girl, right?” he slurred, and looked at you “You look so good in that dress”
“You bought it for me after all” you smiled, trying to contain yourself from doing something you’d regret.
“And you’re letting other guys see you like this? Should’ve kept it for me and only me” he moved closer to you.
You knew it wasn't the alcohol making him act like this. He’s only had two drinks after all.
“And why would I do that, mmh?” you asked, with a sly smile, riling him up just a tiny bit more.
“Cause you're mine, yeah? All of this is mine” his eyes scanned you.
You felt his breath down your neck, and that’s when the self restraint you had flew out the window, as you pressed your delicate lips against his plump ones. Your heart heaves uneasily as you give into his soft touch, hands pressed against your hips, as he pulls you closer to his chest.
The kiss was lustfull, full of built up feelings that’ve been stored up in your hearts for ages. His lips were like a magnet; just when you thought it was over they pulled you back in for more. He tasted like vodka and cherry chapstick, and you just couldn’t resist him.
“Fuck, no one can make you feel this good. Only me, remember that” he said breathlessly, holding you up against his chest. “Don’t tell anyone about this, yeah? It can be our little secret” he said, planting kisses down your neck.
“Mmh” you answered out of breath, your nails digging into his back.
“I guess another point of the bucket list completed for me” Jake muttered.
“Vivienne Wooblegooble, what do you- What the fuck” Anton beamed, walking into the dining room.
…
It’s been two weeks since Hanbin’s birthday party. And you kept your promise. Apart from Anton who desperately wanted to sell you a fake ID, nobody knew. You were good at keeping promises and secrets.
It didn't quite hit you when it happened. Maybe because some part deep inside you expected it to happen. Or maybe because you subconsciously we're preparing for that moment to finally come. No matter what it was, you didn't care. You could finally enjoy having Jake all to yourself.
You found it fun, the fact no one knew. Your brother, Lee Heeseung, had a head of bricks, not even budging when he caught Jake leaving your room, alone, in the middle of the night. He just dapped him up, and asked if he wanted to play Fifa.
But everyday you were getting closer to the start of the school year. That meant that not only everyone would leave, but most importantly, Jake was going to leave.
“My boys, we gotta go hunting. Twenty sexy ladies won’t kiss themselves” Heeseung announced as all of you, alongside Hanbin and Anton, gathered to watch movies at your house.
“This is exactly why you have never seen a woman naked” Yunjin commented, and once again averted her attention to the TV.
“That’s lame as fuck. I’m not doing it” Jake said, focused on the movie playing in front of him.
“Can someone tell me what’s gotten into him suddenly” Jay asked, a weird look on his face as he turned to Jake.
Jake tried to laugh it off, hoping he can just make up a stupid excuse to not go ‘hunting’, but Jay persisted. It wasn’t the first time, since Hanbin's party, that Jake has been making up excuses to not go hang out with different girls.
“I’m just trying to look for something serious. Plus I’m tired of hoeing around, Jay” Jake answered, and to be completely honest, it was the worst excuse you’ve ever heard.
“Well you’re no fun” Heeseung said, picking up his keys “Boys, we have a mission to complete. Without his horse looking ass” he added, pointing to Jake.
“Hanbin, you not coming?” Sunghoon asked, but quickly noticed Yunjins grasp on the boy's arm, “Oh, I see, you’ve become a kiss ass just like Jake” he laughed and took a zoned out Anton with him. Hanbin just muttered a quick ‘fuck off’, and continued to entertain your bestfriend.
You heard the door shut, with that, loud screams coming from outside.
“We’ll leave you guys alone maybe, no one’s coming anytime soon, so do whatever you want” you smiled at Hanbin and Yunjin, leaving to go upstairs with Jake.
The staircase creaked under your feet, as you quickly pulled Jake to your room. You knew that your friends downstairs would easily entertain themselves alone. He smiled as you pulled him inside, he drew you closer to his body, heat radiating off him.
“I’m impressed, they’re gonna flame you later for that, you know?” you said, sitting down on his lap, as he placed himself on the edge of your bed.
“I really don’t care. All I need is this” he gave you a sly smile, eyeing you down.
You smiled, and hugged him tightly, enjoying every second you got to spend with Sim Jake. Maybe this was gonna end up just like any other summer fling, but that didn’t matter. You had him now, and you weren’t gonna waste that.
“God, I wish I told you earlier, maybe we’d have more time together” he said, his hands wandering on your back, as he tried to close any room between your bodies.
“We don’t have to worry about that now” you said, removing yourself from the crook of his neck to look at him “You just have to promise to call me everyday. And visit whenever you can, okay?” you asked, and he happily nodded his head.
…
Keeping secrets from your brother was fun. You’d do it all the time. Seeing his reaction when he did actually find out, was the funniest thing ever. Although real, he'd have the wackiest reaction ever, expression close to the ones in fake 3am youtuber pranks calls.
But this time it was different.
Heeseung had come home early from soccer practice, you didn’t even hear him come in. He had wanted to surprise you with some sweet treats, knowing you were sick. But he had been welcomed with an even better surprise.
Jake wanted to cheer you up knowing you weren’t feeling your best, and since no one was home, you invited him over. Heeseung wasn’t supposed to be home until late.
So that’s when for the first time in your life, your brother had sat you down to have a serious talk.
“How long has this been going on? Ever since you met him? How could I be so stupid to not notice? Oh my fucking god Y/n, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked thousands of questions at once, and you didn’t even know which one to answer first.
“Heeseung stop freaking out. It’s only been a couple of weeks” you said, not even being able to look at him. You didn’t want to see an expression of disappointment on your brother's face, all because of you.
“And I’m guessing no one knows?” he asked, and to your surprise his tone was calm.
“Anton does, he caught us while trying to sell me a fake ID” you answered, as stupid as it sounded, you had to keep a serious face on.
“That fucking wackass scammer. What name did he come up with for you?” Heeseung asked, and that’s when you finally had the confidence to look up at him.
“Vanessa? Or Vivenne Wooblegooble. Something like that” you laughed slightly, and so did he.
“God can’t he just come up with something normal for once. Mine was Ethan Flapdoodle, but he wanted me to pay 100$ for that shit” he laughed, and turned his whole body towards you “Look Y/n, I’m not one to decide what you do, you know? But I just hoped you’d tell me about something like this” he added, and gave you a small smile.
“I know Hee, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you” you said.
“Don’t be sorry. Jake is like for real, my best friend. Like you know, brother from another mother and shit. So I’m glad it’s him and not that knob Eunseok or something. Seunghan told me ya’ll we’re up to something” he voiced with a chuckle “I’m happy it’s Jake actually, he’s a really good fucking dude. Like for real, and you know that too”
You smiled at his answer, and for the first time in a while, hugged your brother. He was surprised but hugged you back, tighter than ever.
“How long have you liked him?” he asked, his voice muffled by the material of your sweatshirt.
“Like four years” you answered, and he quickly pulled out of the hug, and that idiotic expression decorated his face.
“Damn you’re loyal as fuck” he said, shocked.
“Now tell me what’s wrong with Eunseok” you questioned, since all the signs so far pointed to Song Eunseok being a good match for anyone.
“Yunjin probably told you that Kazuha cheated on him, right? Yeah that’s bullshit, Kazuha called him since he couldn’t find his phone, and saw herself saved as ‘Girl 4’. Turns out he had like 8 of them” he answered “And then that dumb fuck had the audacity to brag about it to us, saying some shit along the lines of ‘Oh I guess I gotta go find a replacement for Girl number 4’” he added, with a horrendous impression of Eunseok.
You felt bad for believing the fabricated story everyone had passed on about Kazuha, making a mental note to tell Yunjin about the truth later.
“Anyways, here’s some medicine and your favourite snacks, I hope you feel better so my little sister can smooch Jake again soon” he said, getting up from your bed. “Not thrilled to find out this way, but I’m happy for you two. I’m not gonna tell everyone else though, you should do it yourself” he said with a slight smile, stepping out of the room.
That’s how your dumb brother found out. And honestly, it couldn’t have gone any better.
…
The summer had gone by in a blink of an eye. The memories you made were going to stay with you forever.
You had eventually told everyone about you and Jake, and it shocked you to see that no one was really that surprised. Well expect Yunjin who stalled you on a phone call for three hours to ask you millions of questions. It was nice to know someone cared. And it was nice to know that people you treated like siblings supported you more than anyone.
You had finished the bucket list a week before school started again, a week before everyone had to move out.
Jake had already sent out most of his stuff to his new roommate in Los Angeles, leaving a couple things behind for you.
Sunghoon and Jay had moved out a little earlier than you thought they would. The first time you had visited them in their new apartment, you were surprised by how ugly it was. But finding out Sunghoon picked it cleared everything up for you.
Heeseung decided to stay home, since it made no sense for him to move out. You could lie and say you hated it, but in all honesty you were happy. At the end of the day he was your older brother. Your older brother who you loved more than you’d like to admit.
Yunjin’s idea, Secret Santa, was probably the best thing on that bucket list.
When you opened the box to find a jar of gherkins and used up lotion, you knew who picked the paper with your name. You had picked Jay, gifting him a Paris Saint-Germain jersey and a gift card.
The blanket fort sleepover at Yunjin’s house turned out to be a disaster. No one could fall asleep in the neatly built fort, because Sunghoon’s snoring problem had everyone up till 6AM begging for it to stop.
The bonfire Seunghan had hosted was also a shining memorie that you knew you’d look back on until next summer. You didn’t expect to get close with so many new people this season, but you guess the distance that was about to separate you actually brought all of you closer.
Anton had begged you then to purchase the fake document since he had already made it, and you didn’t have the heart to say no to him, the pleading look on his face pulling you into his scam gig. Guess this was his trick to get everyone involved in his illegal business.
You spent the last week hanging out, having deep talks (which was honestly extremely rare), and looking back at old photos from past summers. It was sweet, seeing everyone so grown up.
“Look at your uglyass outfit. You loved that shirt so much” you pointed out.
You played with Jake’s hair as he lying down in between your thighs. It had grown a lot, and you honestly liked it more than you thought you would.
“There is quite literally nothing wrong with it. All the ladies loved it” he protested, chuckling.
It was horrendous.
“Whatever you say. I’m just glad you stop wearing these tacky tie dye t-shirts” you said, scrolling through the album again.
“Look at Yunjin! You called me ugly, but she looks like a virgin loser in this one” he called out and you slapped his arm for even having the audacity to offend your best friend like that.
“At least someone had a glow up” you answered, and scrolled once again.
“But you liked me. Even with the tie dye minion shirt” he smiled, and turned over to look at you.
“And I still like you. But a little less without the minion shirts” you replied, a smile on your face.
“So do you like them or nah? Cause I think I still have them” he questioned with a curious expression on his face.
“If you like it then I like it too, I guess” you answered, and he moved up a little to be at level with your face.
“Then I like you. More than anything else in this world. Even more than the minion t-shirt” he said, honesty lacing his tone, a pretty smile decorating his face.
You grabbed his face, and placed a sweet kiss on his forehead.
“Remember what you promised me?” you asked, as he lied back down, still facing you.
“Enlighten me once again, please?” he said, nervous you wouldn’t like the fact that he forgot. But you just laughed.
“You promised to call me everyday. And visit, anytime you could” you told him once again, and he smiled, the memory coming back to him.
“You got it baby”
And so he did. He called every day. He visited anytime he could. He was there every time you needed him. Cause he was yours. He was your Jake Sim, and that summer was yours truly.
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MOVED TO @seratopia
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - touchy touchy
modern ceo au!
thinking about how miguel touches you so often around the office that a random guy decides to do something about it
You and Miguel don’t share a workplace. He’d end up being your boss anyway, and as much as you love spending time with him, it’s not good to have a partner that also gives you your paycheck. (Plus, distance can equal longing.)
Miguel constantly insist that you stay at home, and that he’d provide you with everything you could ask for but... feminism???( /j ) You have your own job conveniently down the street from Miguel’s office; it’s more of a hobby than it really is a job, but it gets you money.
The whole building knows you as “Miguel’s Wife”; you visit often. Sometimes your visits are a surprise, others it’s when you have nothing to do so you just hang by Miguel all day. You’re blessed with free food from the cafeteria, plus the gym. It’s fun to watch Miguel work out.
Though, today was... funny.
Whenever Miguel thinks you guys are alone, he’s touchy. However, to Miguel, “alone” is just being in a room with less than 6 people in it. So, needless to say, his employees have seen things.
You’re just so pretty, so cute to him, he can’t help but just worm his way over to you whenever in sight.
Things along the lines of kisses, waist grabbing, thigh grabbing, hugs, back hugs, and even ass-slapping are a common sight to see when you’re around the office. Miguel truly, genuinely believes that he’s being sly, but that’s probably because everyone’s too scared/nice to say anything about it. Perks of being a CEO.
No one really tells the new recruits about it though, it’s just a you-see-it-and-get-used-to-it type of thing.
So imagine your surprise when someone in the office pulls you aside one day and asks if Miguel is sexually assaulting you.
Miguel’s been lingering his hands all over you today in particular, boldly sliding his big hand down towards your ass. You elbow him a little when he gets too close though, especially around a few people.
“¿Por favor, querida?“ He whines, slithering his hand back onto you.
“Oh my gosh, Miguel, no. Wait until we’re out of work.“
All is well, but Miguel has to tend to a few things, so you take it upon yourself to take a break at the cafeteria. Might as well bring him a drink while you’re at it.
Halfway through your walk there, some guy you’ve seen around taps on your shoulder and pulls you aside. He’s relatively young, has this assertive look to him. Among the quirky pins on his shirt pocket, you find an ID card labeled “INTERN.”
The worry on his own face makes you a little anxious.
“Ma’am, are you okay?“ He asks, meeting his eyes with yours. He looks serious, peering from left to right as if a secret was being exchanged.
“Uh- yeah, what do you mean?“
His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Girl, I’ve seen Miguel grope you... do you want me to call the police? I have a video right here as pr-“
A gust of relief washes over you, and you almost start to laugh. You watch as the guy starts to pull up his phone, before you stop him.
“Oh, no no no, it’s okay!“ You exclaim. “Miguel’s my husband, he’s just clingy!“
The man raises an eyebrow, concern lacing his voice. “You aren’t just saying that, right? Like, you’re really okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry. If he was actually bothering me, then I’d tell him.“ You chuckle, just to ease up the serious air a little bit.
“Ah, well if you say so... If anything happens, just let me know.“ He says.
“Yeah, thank you for the concern, though.“ You smile, and he smiles back, walking away around the corner where you assume he came from.
With a little laugh, you continue your walk towards the cafeteria, thinking deeply about the interaction. It might be time for you to tell Miguel to stop touching you often around the office, as much as you enjoy it. He’d hate despise it though.
If it weren’t for you being around so often, work life might not be as pleasant for his employees. You don’t think Miguel truly notices, but he starts getting huffy and puffy when you aren’t around to see him; people get a little more scared of him when he has this scowl on his face.
“Who was that?“
You violently flinch, yelping out loud. In one swift motion, you swerve around, your heartbeat only easing down when you realize it’s just Miguel.
“Miguel, honey, you gotta stop scaring me.“
“...Sorry. Who was that?“ He asks, obvious curiosity in his voice. Almost like it was muscle memory, he slips both hands onto your sides, reminding you of the topic at hand. (literally lmao)
“Just some guy... you know what he asked me, though?“
“If it was on a date he’s getting fired.“ Miguel promises darkly, squeezing at the fat of your sides.
“No, Miguel. He asked if you were assaulting me. Even asked me if he wanted me to call the police.“
“Assaulting?“
“Yeah, because you keep on doing things like this-“ You place your hands on his. “- to me every time I visit!“
Like a guilty puppy, Miguel pouts to the side, reluctantly slipping his hands away from you. It takes you everything not to laugh at him as he grumbles to himself, that signature scowl building onto his face.
“It’s fine, Miguel. You can still touch me. Just tone it down a bit when we’re around people, yeah?“
Miguel nods, slowly inching his fingers towards your hands. “Yeah. M’sorry.”
“Miguel, it’s fine. It’s not like I hate it, it might just be uncomfortable for your employees.“
Miguel sighs, dipping down his head to rest on your shoulder. He catches a whiff of your body wash, sweet and comforting. You giggle, a sound that Miguel would kill to hear for everyday of his life. You slide your own hands over onto his broad back, tracing your fingers against the muscle through his shirt.
“I just... I think I love you too much.“ He mumbles, and your ears almost strain to hear it.
“Awh, you know I love you too.“ You sweetly reply, squeezing him into a tight hug. He’s so darling, compressing you tight against him.
“Just let me have this, and I’ll leave you be for a bit, hm?“ Miguel mutters into your ear, indulgently smoothing his big hands over your little back. Chills run up your spine when he presses a smooch to your ear.
“Yeah, we’ll see how long that’ll last...“ You chuckle, letting him do what he wants for the time being.
It takes Miguel longer than he really should to let you go, adoration clearly written on his face as he detaches his arms from you.
“You wanna grab coffee with me before you have to go back?“ You ask, beaming at Miguel with a natural smile.
Miguel doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
You break off into a walk through the hallway, and Miguel has to remind himself every minute or so to keep his hands off.
. . .
It didn’t work.
Already in line for coffee, Miguel’s chin rests on top of your head, acting as if the previous conversation was entirely wiped clean from his memory.
You sigh, knowingly speaking to the barista as if you didn’t have a 6′9 CEO strapped to your back like a koala.
“Baby, what did we say?“
“Sorry...“
miguel is 6′9 because i said so and because of this tiktok
© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.
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