#apart from that in the last year he started to get very political in the show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

holdinggrudges · 11 days ago

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what's my flavor?

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball.

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store.

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine.

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it.

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy.

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance.

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score.

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where.

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?”

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.”

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.”

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?”

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over.

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.”

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.”

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow.

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you.

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless.

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month.

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant.

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.”

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.”

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.”

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious.

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library.

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.”

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.”

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time.

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too.

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up. He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

��How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?”

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense.

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly.

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.”

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.”

“I’ll text you,” he agrees.

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life.

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags.

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut.

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before.

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response.

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway.

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing.

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too.

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised.

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car.

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers.

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is.

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage.

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door.

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?”

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?”

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?”

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out.

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.”

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further.

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that.

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?”

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help.

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.”

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?”

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?”

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before.

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again.

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?”

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.”

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?”

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.”

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?”

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.”

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.”

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.”

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?”

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.”

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.”

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door.

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit.

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?”

You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general.

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight.

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately.

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him.

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.”

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.”

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw.

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.”

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that.

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.”

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.”

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.”

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss.

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing.

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.”

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that.

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are.

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.”

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. !You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up.

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips.

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.”

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you.

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.”

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?”

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.”

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?”

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.”

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t.

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond.

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed.

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw.

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.”

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought.

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now.

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his.

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease.

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there.

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that.

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?”

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated.

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down.

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.”

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again.

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?”

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.”

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go.

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.”

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.”

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory.

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.”

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm.

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?”

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already.

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?”

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…”

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?”

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.”

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

#sammy.txt #grudges_writes.txt #grudges_nsfw.txt #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #vampire smut #sam munchester love of my life #smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #alternate universe #vampires

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monzabee · 1 year ago

Text

bad idea right? – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?

Pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of breakups and also fighting, cursing, kind of a toxic relationship?, allusion to smut, it's criminal how long it took me to finish this fic

Request: this wasn’t requested, but the idea is veeery loosely from this tiktok right here! (i might def write the scenario in the tiktok in the future though)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it has officially been a month since i started my master's programme and i have to say it is absolutely kicking my ass, but thank you all for bearing with me while i adjust! this song has been stuck in my head for the last two-three (?) months and i really wanted to write a fic based on it. i also wanted to say that i've received all of your guys' requests, and i'm working on those, but it's harder for me to get out a request than a fic that just popped in my head because i tend to be more of a perfectionist with those - so, those are definitely on the way, don't worry! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s not that you don’t like spending time with your brother and his girlfriend – because you do, but considering the fact that spending a mere hour with them causes you to suddenly question your life choices (of being single), you are very eager to leave them alone for the night. Which brings us to the current situation, with you standing in front of your brother’s apartment complex in one of the hoodies you stole from the sample boxes, waiting for someone you should’ve never hit up in the first place. It was probably not your brightest idea to message Lando to ask him if he wants to go for a ride, especially because a) the last time you saw him a year ago the two of you were yelling and throwing things at each other and b) you’re definitely buzzed from the bottle of wine you hogged upstairs. But you know what they say; absence makes the heart go fonder, right?

So there you are with your phone in your hand, texting Lily in hopes of getting the tiniest bit of reassurance about your decision.

To lily m: i texted lando To lily m: he’s gonna pick me up From lily m: WHAT? NO To lily m: seeing him tonight To lily m: it’s a bad idea, right? From lily m: YES From lily m: DO NOT GET INTO THAT CAR To lily m: yes i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?

Fuck it, it’s fine, you decide as you quickly delete the last two messages. With a soft sigh, you wrap your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the cold air of the night. And while you could just wait for Lando inside the apartment building, you really don’t want to attract more attention to yourself. You can feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the minutes pass by, and you even contemplate cancelling the whole thing and going upstairs to sleep. Just as you’re about to give up on the whole thing, a car honk grabs your attention. When turn to look at the source of the sound, you see Lando’s unamused face through the open window.

He motions you to get in with his head, his voice as equally detached as he calls out, “Get in.”

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you do as your told. But you tell yourself that it’s not because he told you to, but because you’re cold. And so you get in the car making sure you slam the door as hard as you can, which makes him scowl as a small smile forms on your lips. “You know, you could really try on being more polite.”

“I’m picking you up in the middle of the night,” he points out as he puts the car on drive and starts driving off, “and put your damn seatbelt on.”

You give him a sideway glance as you put on your seatbelt, letting out a sigh, “Are you okay? I’m sensing some serious undertone.”

Lando doesn’t answer you, mainly because he is smarter than he looks and he knows you’re trying to goad him into another fight. That’s what the two of you had always done, not that he hated you or vice versa, but the two of you mainly got along in fights which ended up in both of you twisted between the sheets of the whatever hotel you were currently staying in. And it had worked for a while, until of course it didn’t, and Lando was mature enough to admit that he had a huge role in fucking up your relationship.

“You changed your car,” you point out.

“Thought you’d appreciate a roof over your head this time,” he replies.

The car is silent as Lando drives down the now empty streets of Monte Carlo, and you find yourself involuntarily checking out his side profile because well, he always looked so good while driving. You suppose it’s only one of the things that didn’t change with time.

“So,” his voice draws you out from your thoughts, “why’d you call me tonight? Are you drunk?”

“I am not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “if you don’t feel like being here Lando, I can just get off and go home.”

“Now I didn’t say that, I simply asked a question.” He steals another glance at you, but this time a little smirk forms on his lips when your eyes meet and he sees your scowl. “It was a harmless question, really.”

Your voice comes off as clipped as you answer, “I’m not drunk.”

“Your cheeks are red,” Lando points out but the playfulness from mere seconds ago is gone, in fact, he’s more serious than you’ve probably ever seen him, “you either had wine or your rosacea is acting up.”

It takes a moment for you to take in his words, and there is no humour in his voice or on his face when you look at him to see whether he’s joking or not. “I had some wine,” you confess, voice much lower than before as you add, “but I’m not drunk.” One of his eyebrows rise up, and you find yourself mumbling, “Fine maybe a little bit, but not a lot.”

His jaw ticks as he mumbles, “Okay, whatever you say.” And as you try to assess whether his voice is cold or not, you see his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

“What?” You ask, a bit quicker than necessary (in your opinion), “What did I say?”

Now it’s his turn for his voice to be clipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Did you only call me because you’re drunk?”

“No,” your reply is truthful to some extent, you suppose, you would’ve texted him even if you had no alcohol in your system. “I wanted to see you.”

He lets out a hum, “Why?”

It’s a hard question, and you contemplate not being a hundred percent honest – but deep down you know he deserves better, even if you had your differences. So, to reveal the truth, you turn your face away from him to look outside the window, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t turn to see what his reaction will be. Everything is peaceful for a moment.

He takes you to a hill, the very one he took you for your first date. Though, it doesn’t carry the same excitement this time around. The two of you remain in the car with the windows rolled down, but the colder air doesn’t make you chilly. It’s silent, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Neither of you make the first move to start a conversation, and you don’t know if that’s because you’re both obstinate or he doesn’t want to be there. Though, you suspect he would’ve told you ‘no’ if he didn’t want to be there – not that he could ever tell you ‘no’.

It's unnaturally hard, you realise, not looking at him on purpose when he’s seated so close to you. Especially because you haven’t seen him in months. Not that you’d confess that to him, or let yourself have another weak moment where you say you missed him. Because you can’t. Because it’s not the way the two of you operate. Because he broke your heart but you’re not strong enough to let him go. With that last thought, you take a sharp breath, undo your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean against the hood of the car and he soon follows suit. But where your hands are splayed behind your back, his arms are crossed over his chest.

“You’ve not been sleeping.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Because he is not dumb (or blind enough) to let the circles under your eyes slide.

And it’s a statement that might be true. You only give him half of a shrug, “So?”

“It means that something is bothering you.” You’re about to object, but he quickly shuts you down, “I once drove you around for four hours so you could sleep in my car, honey,” his fingers move to gently turn your chin towards him so he can look into your eyes, “and that was because you forgot to bring me back junk food from Australia.”

Even if you’re taken aback by his physical touch, you don’t show it as you stubbornly maintain your eye contact. “It’s the jet lag, I haven’t travelled in a while.” You gulp down a breath as you gently push his hand away, “And don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He turns his body to face you, “You’re just as sweet, aren’t you?”

“Lando,” you warn him, “don’t.”

He raises a brow, “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends,” your response comes off in an instant, “I only see you as a friend.” The biggest lie you’ve ever said.

“Friends,” he repeats, tests out the word, then shrugs, “sure. Now tell me what happened tonight that made you call me. Did you and Daniel fight?”

“What?” an involuntary laugh leaves your lips, and you catch the corner of his lips turning upwards just the smallest bit. “No, we didn’t, it’s not about Daniel. Can we just not talk about it, please?”

He gives you a firm nod, and you catch his grimace as he turns his attention back to the view in front of you. “You can tell me, you know,” he mumbles, “you used to.”

He’s right, you realise. You used to tell him all the little thought that popped into your head, whether it was nice or not, and he’d accommodated your thoughts. It was easier to talk to him, once upon a time, and you’re not really sure why it hurts so much right now that you can’t.

“Why do you care?” The question comes out quickly, and your voice is not as strong as you’d like it to be. “After everything, why do you care?”

“We’re friends, right?” The words tastes unbelievably sour in his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from making any sort of face, but it seems harder than it actually is for him to do and he questions whether it is worth it to

“Friends,” this time it’s your turn to test out the word, and it tastes as bitter as they come, “sure, can we ride around a bit more?”

“Fine,” he gives you a nod and motions you to get in the car, “but I have to get gas first.”

The fluorescent lighting of the gas station is definitely not the most flattering thing. So much so that you’re sure the unflattering light outside is exaggerating the bags under your eyes. But that situation of course doesn’t apply to Lando because even under the harsh lighting, he looks too pretty. And compared to earlier in the night, you don’t try to hide the way your eyes focus on him while he’s driving, though you hope you do a much better job at hiding the thoughts that come to your mind. Even after he’s parked the car in the nearest pump, you find yourself staring at his side profile a bit too long, which earns you a sideway smirk and you try your hardest not to react, but the smile you keep trying to fight is too strong and eventually you find yourself with the tiniest smile playing on your lips.

Lando turns towards you, meets your eyes and leans over the console, “Do you want anything from the shop?”

You blink once, trying to come up with anything, twice, then “Can you get me those gummy bears that I like?”

He gives you another nod, reaches into his pocket and then hand you his phone. Ignoring your questioning stare, he explains, “So that you can play music or something, the password is still the same.” Before he gets out of the car, he does the unexpected and leans in just a little bit more to press a feather-light kiss to your temple.

You watch him get out of the car and walk away from you with your mouth slightly hanging open. You contemplate trying to unlock the phone, because why would he tell you that his password is the same? And why would he trust you with his phone when the two of you have been broken up for over a year? With shaky hands, your fingers put in the password, calling Lando’s bluff. Oh shit, you think when the phone unlocks, now what? Throwing the phone out of your hands onto the driver seat, you grab your own and quickly type a new message to Kika, who of course got the news from Lily and has been blowing up your phone, while ignoring her dozen other messages who went unread in your text thread.

To kika: this was a bad idea kika Tokika: a very *very* bad idea From kika: please tell me you’re going home To kika: um… To kika: sure From kika: GET OUT OF THAT CAR AND GET YOUR ASS HOME From kika: NOW!!

Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes linger on the messages spamming your phone, and you contemplate just getting out of the car and trying to find your way back home. But you also can’t help yourself but think… what’s the worst that could happen if you stayed? Clicking the button on the side of your phone, you place it face down on your lap after making sure you silence it for the rest of the night. With the reminder of the abandoned phone on the seat next to yours, you open your window to let some of the night air in. As your phone keeps buzzing on your lap, your eyes focus on the figure that comes out of the convenience store – and by some grace of God, he doesn’t realise the way your eyes basically undress him as he approaches his McLaren.

There’s no smile on his face, in fact, if you didn’t know Lando, you’d say he looks like an asshole; not that he occasionally doesn’t act like one. He gives you that boyish smirk when he’s next to your window, signalling you to roll it down by tapping on it twice. Lando leans against the car, his eyes locked onto yours. “Got your gummy bears,” he says, holding up the package and handing it to you once you roll it down. “It was the last one too, you’re lucky.”

Giving a tight lipped smile to the man looking expectantly at you, you accept the packet of gummy bears. “Thank you, Lando,” the softening look in his eyes is, ironically, strong enough for you to choke on the next words that are on the tip of your tongue. “I–”

“I’m sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?” A third voice interrupts you, and you find yourself moving your gaze from Lando to the woman who’s excitedly waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he breathes out, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice polite but he’s also very annoyed at the same time – though the way he eyes up the stranger definitely makes your blood boil.

With his attention on the woman, you find yourself feel the tension in the air and quickly look down at the packet of gummy bears in your hands. You start absentmindedly picking at the wrapper, your mind racing with a mixture of emotions. As the conversation between Lando and the fan continues, you steal glances at them from the corner of your eye. She's gushing about a recent race, talking animatedly about the thrilling moments she witnessed. Lando, for his part, is gracious and engaged, taking the time to listen and respond. And despite the polite exchange, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. It's a reminder of the world he's a part of, a world where fans approach him with admiration and excitement. A world you used to share, but now only observe from the sidelines.

You watch the woman place her hand on Lando’s bicep, laughing at a (rather mediocre) joke he made about the understeer of the car. It’s not a funny joke by any means, and you are not scared to admit that the woman’s laugh that fills your ears makes your insides twist uncomfortably. You remind yourself that you're here by choice. You could have left at any moment. But there's something about this night, about being with Lando again, that you can't quite let go of. It's a confusing mix of nostalgia and longing, wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty.

The woman’s voice hits your ears as you hear her ask, “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Without letting them both know that you’re actively listening into their conversation, you attempt to subtly let out a warning cough, but Lando covertly smirks as he leans towards the car with his hand grabbing the lowered window – without caring about the possible finger prints he might leave behind, might you add. Without any hesitation, you let your fingers go of the packaging to thread your fingers with his.

While his thumb gently starts to draw circles on the knuckle of your thumb, he does his best to supress the chuckle building up in his throat. “That’s, um, very kind – but I’m with my girl, you see, and we are both pretty tired.”

Maybe you would’ve given her a friendly smile over a misunderstanding if you were in a better mood, but as the woman looks at you with wild eyes, all you can offer her is an annoyed pout, and soon after she leaves after apologising to you both for interrupting your plans. You watch her leave until there is a good enough distance for her to not hear you, and then turn to Lando and give him a glare as you hiss, “I am not ‘your girl’.”

He finally lets out the chuckle he’s been holding as he watches you letting go of his hand with an exaggerated push, and then diverts his amused eyes towards you, “Sure, whatever you say, jealous girl.”

“I am not– I wasn’t jealous!” you exclaim, eyes narrowed. When he starts walking towards the driver’s side, you can’t help but call out, “I’m not jealous!”

Lando is still chuckling to himself when he gets in the car, and even as he starts driving, completely ignoring your whining complaints. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, voice full of condescension, “it was very cute.”

“You are an ass.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms across your chest. “Maybe I should’ve gotten off when I had the chance, that way you could’ve fucked her in the back seat.”

“Bold of you assume she’s the one I’d want to fuck in my back seat,” he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs “but sure.”

Your face scrunches up in disgust, “You’re, ugh, you’re just the worst, Lando.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you add, “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over you fucking girls in your car.”

Lando manages to get out a disapproving tut, and then contends, “I never said I’d fuck girls in my car, I’d said I’d rather fuck you in my car.”

Completely baffled by this revelation, not that you should’ve been, you turn to him in disgust, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs again, noncommittally, and without paying you any mind continues to focus on the road.

“Well,” you laugh, breathlessly, “good thing that’s never happening.” Gently clearing your throat, you later can’t help yourself but add a silent, “Again.”

“If you’d rather a bed, that could also be arranged, honey.” Lando assures you, and you realise the little fucker has a smirk growing on his face.

“As if I’d sleep with you willingly,” you scoff.

A boisterous laugh is what you get from Lando, who tilts his head towards you, “Come on, I’m a good-looking bloke.”

“And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter man,” you sing, but you just can’t remember when. So deciding to block out what Lando is rambling about, you pull out your phone to message someone who has the answer for you.

To lily m + kika: can you tell me someone who is hotter than lando? From lily m: alex From kika: pierre To lily m + kika: ew, be serious please From kika: what about the guy with the accent, from hungary? From lily m: the doctor? To lily m + kika: i think she meant the reporter From lily m: god no he was a creep From lily m: what about the surfer? From kika: oh yeah he was cute too To lily m + kika: i need someone hot, pleaseee From lily m: THE MODEL FROM MILAN From kika: WITH THE ABS From kika: and also porche From lily m: BUT ALSO THE ABS To lily m + kika: okay thanks To lily m + kika: love you guys

Getting lost in the conversation, with the aid of your ambition to prove yourself right and, naturally, Lando wrong, you don’t realise that he’s actually driven you back to his apartment instead of a bar or literally some other place that sells alcohol in that ungodly hour.

“This isn’t a bar.” You point out, eyebrows furrowed.

Lando dignifies your comment with a scoff, “Well aren’t you quite the detective?”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you basically hiss at him this time, “This is basically kidnapping.”

Lando glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Kidnapping? Really? I thought we were just catching up.”

You shoot him a sarcastic look, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, sure. Catching up in the middle of the night at your place.”

He parks the car and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Well, here’s my proposal. I’ll go to my apartment and you’re free to either join me or drive my car back to Daniel’s – I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options as you watch Lando give you an assuring smile and handing you the keys before getting out of the car. Going back to your brother's place doesn't sound all that appealing, and Lando's offer, as questionable and a bad idea as it may be, seems like the lesser of two evils. Though, there is also the reality that if when you go up to his apartment, you’re probably going to do something that either you or your friends will regret tomorrow morning. Watching Lando’s retreating figure move further into the apartment building, you think, fuck it, it’s fine.

So, you wait for a few minutes, anxiously twirling the car keys in your hand to make him wait – but you’re pretty sure it makes you suffer just as much. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then climb out of the car. Locking it behind you, you follow Lando into the building. The familiar scent of his cologne hits you as you step into the elevator, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The elevator ride going up to the second floor is pure torture, and it leaves you squirming in your place the whole time. Basically throwing yourself out of the elevator once it lands on the second floor, you realise that Lando has been waiting for you, standing and smiling at his door.

He gives you a teasing look as you approach, clearly amused by your slightly dishevelled state. “Took you long enough,” he remarks, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. But instead of saying anything or retorting back, you quietly follow him inside his apartment. Lando closes the door behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The dim lighting casts a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. The first thing that catches your eye is the helmet collection he keeps in the living room. Without saying anything, you quickly make your way over to the shelves that display the helmets, trying your best to avoid his approaching footsteps behind you. The familiar design of a particular helmet has you instinctively tracing the number at the top, and the arms that hug your waist from behind makes you freeze for a moment. Lando's touch is both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions you thought were long buried.

“That's from Monza, 2021,” he says, his voice close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. “I remember,” you reply, your fingers still lingering on the helmet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present hangs in the air. Lando breaks the silence, his voice low and measured. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come up.”

You turn to face him, meeting his gaze, but don’t attempt getting out of his arms. “I didn't think so either.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a tentative touch, a testing of waters, and you find yourself responding to the familiarity of the kiss. The taste of the past lingers, and for a moment, it's as if the years haven't passed. But reality crashes back in, and you pull away, the distance now a necessary boundary. Lando looks at you, a mix of emotions playing on his face. There's longing, regret, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities that bind you.

“I thought we could just catch up,” he says, his tone a mix of apology and yearning.

You turn in your place, facing him. “Catching up was never our strong suit, was it?”

“Not really,” Lando shakes his head, “no.”

You bite down on the corner of your lip, threading your fingers through his curls as you pull his face down to meet yours as you rise on your tiptoes, “It’s a bad idea, right?”

Lando lets out a supportive hum as he lets his lips softly brush against yours, “The worst.” And maybe he should have been the gentleman and pull away, but when he sees your eyes closing, he just leans in further to press his lips against yours – and the way you respond to his kiss? It's as if the world outside ceases to exist. The kiss deepens, each brush of his lips against yours reigniting a long-buried flame. Lando's hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, erasing the physical space between you.

You don’t complain as he pulls you towards his bedroom, or when he gently throws you on his bed, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. As he hovers over you, the weight of the past and the intensity of the present converge. His hands trace the contours of your face, memorizing every curve as if committing it to memory. And when the two of you get lost between each other within his sheets, the only thing that ends up coming from your mouth is either his name, or some sort of encouragement to keep him going. After he manages to wear you out, Lando decides that you’re definitely not going anywhere as he wraps you in his arms around you. The room is filled with the soft sounds of breaths syncing, hearts beating in tandem. Lando's fingers draw absent patterns on your skin while you check the messages that have accumulated in your phone. The glow of your phone illuminates the dim room, creating a subtle contrast to the warmth that envelops you. Lando's presence beside you adds an extra layer of comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy that unfolded moments ago.

From danny: please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped by the organ mafia From danny: wink twice if you’re alive From danny: this is not funny, where are you? From danny: fine i’ll ask alex to ask lily

Rolling your eyes before sending him a text to let your brother know you’re okay, you decide to turn your attention to the group chat with Lily and Kika.

From kika: did you get home safe? From lily m: daniel is pretty stressed about it From lily m: please for the love of god tell us you’re home and not with lando right now To lily m + kika: omg just calm down i’m in bed To lily m + kika: and i’m going to sleep To lily m + kika: love you guys

You catch a glimpse of Lando’s grin over your shoulder as you click your phone off, but he only chuckles as he buries his face into your neck as he leaves small kisses to the skin there. “Well, I’m not lying, I just didn’t specify where I was.”

“Or in whose sheets,” his laugher gets louder as you jokingly slap him on the arm, “go to sleep, honey, we’ll be tired in the morning.”

And it might’ve been a bad idea to message him in the first place, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff

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cimmanonrowl · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, I saw that you’re taking dbf requests for Hotch! Could I request a fic with dbf!Hotch where he finally makes a move on reader during a party being hosted by her dad? Also, I love your fics sm!!

Dress

It was your father’s appointment party as Chief Justice when lawyers and businessmen overtly offer their sons as your marriage prospects. All while Aaron Hotchner listened quietly beside you, you can tell that he’s not too happy about it.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader

Theme: spicy hotshot

Contents: age gap, making out, angry confession.

The decorous garden of your home residence was filled with a crowd of guests long before the party officially started. Prominent people of different names and titles— some of your father’s business partners and colleagues in the Supreme Court, and some family friends you barely recognize— draped in their finest garments and overtly high status in society.

Pleasantries and polite conversations were exchanged; and as your father greeted each one of his dear friends, you had no other choice but to stay beside him all the time and be on your best behavior.

“You have a very nice house here, Chief Justice,” Emilia Kane— one of your father’s business partners as you recalled— said with a dainty smile.

You mirrored her small nod when she glanced at you, smiling politely at the woman and the other two beside her. “Good evening, Ma’am.”

“Good evening, dear. You look absolutely gorgeous…” She took a sip of her champagne and raked your outfit subtly, a kind smile on her face. “What year are you in University now?”

“She just graduated a month ago, Emilia. She’s entering Harvard Law this fall, haven’t I told you yet?” Your father intercepted proudly, making you purse your lips as you initially intended to answer the question.

The woman beamed in amazement as she glanced at you. “Oh my, congratulations! I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“She graduated top of her class.”

You sighed lightly, glancing at your father. “Dad…”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the photos, Emilia. I posted everything on my social accounts...” Father dear went on, still smiling widely.

“Dad, please.”

“Oh, did you?” The woman said in awe, alternating her amused gaze between you and your father. “And did he get you a new car, dear? An apartment? What did he get you for your graduation?”

“I wanted to give her all thos—”

“No, dad…” You shook your head, chuckling.

“Well, I rented an entire villa in Mykonos for her and her friends. She just got back from Greece yesterday.”

“Dad!” Heat crept in your cheeks as he continued. This conversation is making you sound like a hopeless case of a spoiled brat when it wasn’t entirely true. You might appear spoiled for other people at times but not on a hopeless— certainly not on a spoiled brat level.

“Oh, dear, you’re fine…” The other woman chuckled sympathetically. “I bought my son a new Porsche just because he didn’t get himself kicked out of University. I’m sure your father’s just proud.”

You shyly darted your gaze at your dad as you felt his palm on your linked arms. “Why won’t I be? She’s my only daughter...”

The light conversation continued and was only interrupted when a couple of new guests approached your father. Several familiar faces of lawyers and judges; some from your father’s law firm and some from the Supreme Court. Over the past years, you got to know most of them, making you fix your posture and remind yourself to smile more pleasantly.

So you stood there prettily in silence, smiling, as you accepted their handshakes.

“You look beautiful, hija…”

You beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, attorney. Good evening.”

“Have you seen Marcus around? He told me he’d look for you.”

“Marcus?” You perked your eyebrows in curiosity. “Is he home already?”

The innocent question made your father chuckle a bit. “Yes, sweetie. I told you I played golf with them last week, remember?”

A bashful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at Attorney Jensen. They’re one of your closest family friends. His son, Marcus, is one of the kids you grew up hanging around with at law firm parties and at weekend golf clubs. He’s a nice kid... but everything turned weird when everyone started pairing you both as teenagers.

Your father must’ve told you about Marcus’ arrival but you’re sure you didn’t care enough the first time that you missed the entire story when he called.

“Well, I’m sure he’s just around...” You said with a sweet smile.

Minutes dragged by and their conversations continued. You stood beside your father in silence, occasionally engaging in the small talk. Some of the men asked about your education, your plan after law school, and your love life— all of which you answered as briefly and politely as possible.

“Sir, it’s time to prepare for your opening speech—” You turned in the organizer’s direction when you heard her voice.

You stared at your father expectantly. Well, it’s not like he would need your help in preparing for his speech. He’s a Chief Justice for heaven’s sake, surely he can do that alone. You just hope he’s not thinking of leaving you alone with these men.

“Thank you, Laura…” Your father turned to glance down at you. “Honey, would you mind staying here for a whi— never mind— Aaron!”

Your heart almost burst into ashes with the sudden cry of your father. You quickly followed his line of sight— immediately being greeted by the sight of your father’s dear best friend since University days.

Aaron Hotchner.

He’s in a well-polished suit. His dark hair was clean cut and even from afar, you can see the light stubble on his jaw. And Jesus Christ, how can someone look that good?

“Chief Justice,” He greeted your father with an equally wide yet endearing smile, deftly shaking hands while your father chuckled heartily.

Aaron turned to you with a timid smile, opening his arms as a little invitation. You noticed the hint of hesitation on his face with that. Yet still, you accepted the hug before placing a quick and delicate kiss on his cheek, your hands shaking as you perched both your palms on his arm.

“I’ll excuse myself for a while. Will you look after her, Aaron?” You heard your father say as you scrambled to step away from Aaron’s embrace.

He wetted his lower lip before nodding, not even daring to look at you. “Yeah, sure.”

Embarrassment licked your skin as you watched your unsuspecting father walk away. The moment he was completely out of sight, you felt Aaron’s gentle hand snaking at the low of your back, securing you from the waist— as if preventing you from running away from him.

Effortlessly, he engaged in conversations as he settled beside you. And just like earlier, you fell silent as everyone else was busy in their own conversations.

“How about you, are you planning to get married soon after graduating from Harvard Law?”

You smiled lightly as a couple of guests whirled their attention back to you. “I’m afraid I’ll have to look for a boyfriend first, attorney.”

Aaron’s thumb started rubbing soft strokes at your waist. He seemed to be doing that unconsciously because when you glanced at him, he was talking to another group of guests standing at his side.

“So you’re currently looking for a boyfriend?”

“Not really, no...” You chuckled awkwardly. “But if I meet a good one, why not?”

The older man took a huge swig of his brandy. “I have a son. He’s in DC. Surgeon.”

You nodded with an unsure smile. What do you even do with that kind of information?

“That’s impressive...” You said instead.

“He’s also looking for a girlfriend. I can hook you up if you like. I mean, he also graduated from Harvard—”

“That’s kind of you, attorney, but as I said I’m not really looking…”

“My son’s an architect. I believe your father mentioned you’re into art, is that correct?” Another man interrupted, taking an interest in the conversation.

“Yes, attorney…” You gave him a small smile.

Although this night wasn’t meant for you in any way, you’re aware that you are your father’s reflection to these people. You know how crucial it is that you remain polite as much as possible.

“Just a few dates, what do you say?” He offered with a humorous smile. “Come on, maybe we can merge our firms one day. You know, I don’t have any successor of my own. My son’s an architect.”

“It’s not her fault your son chose architecture,” Attorney Jensen cut off before you can reply for yourself. “Besides, my son has been courting her since they were young. He went home this year just to ask her out officially.”

Your breath hitched as you felt Aaron’s grip on your waist tighten. You glanced up at him in confusion, only to see that his usually kind eyes turned piercing, his eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. He seemed mad— furious. He looked furious at the incredulity he was hearing.

You glanced away, not sure what to make of that.

“I believe we need to go to our tables now...” Aaron said formally, his voice deep and serious. His eyes were pointed at his old colleagues and other businessmen.

You smiled at the waiting guests. “I believe I still want to hear what they’re saying...”

Aaron turned to you in disbelief, his scowl deepened.

“About?”

“About their sons.”

You watched Aaron with an innocent look, tilting your head a little, calming the rapid beating of your heart as you saw him let out a sigh of frustration.

Attorney Jensen chuckled at the sight. “Oh, come on now, Aaron. She’s a grown woman, plus it’s just a few dates. It won’t hurt surely.”

“Surely...” You nodded along, glancing at the other men. “It won’t hurt to try.”

You bit your lower lip as Aaron leaned into your ear. His hot breath fanned over your skin, his deep voice sending chills to trickle down your spine.

“Continue this conversation, young lady, and let’s see what will happen.”

The horrified look on your face drew laughter from the guests. They must’ve thought Aaron was threatening to tell this to your father. So you turned away, your smile dropping as you looked around apologetically.

Your father’s voice from the make-shift stage snatched everyone’s attention from you and the conversation. Some marshalls started ushering people to their seats to prepare for the opening speech of the Chief Justice. With small nods and smiles, they all marched toward their respective tables and left you on the spot with Aaron.

“Come with me.”

You staggered sidewards, looking around in slight panic. “The party’s starting.”

“We have to talk.”

“Aaron,” You sighed, eyeing the stage. “My father’s giving his speech…”

That only made him frown deeper. “You proofread that speech for him, you won’t miss anything.”

“So what if I did? I still want to listen.”

He wandered his gaze around the venue before guiding you away from the crowd. It was seldom that Aaron visited your home residence. When he and your father hang out, they usually visit bars, golf clubs, or shooting ranges. But he does know the basic layout of your house. And you know that he’s leading you inside your home this time.

Deep down, you feel like you know exactly where he wants to talk.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He blurted out angrily the moment you stepped inside your room.

You whirled around to face him, crossing your arms across your chest as you heaved a tired sigh.

“What, Aaron?”

He took a step forward. “Is that your way of getting back at me?”

You shrugged, still confused about the point he was making. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You perfectly know what I’m talking about.”

A beat of silence.

Then realization dawned, making you smile in pure resignation.

Two months ago, you made up your mind and finally confessed to Aaron Hotchner. You’re already graduating from University. You will enter a Law School soon. What’s there to lose? Aaron had been showing the subtlest of signs that he likes you back: the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel cared for and safe, the way— you mistook everything for a reciprocated love.

He cared for you, yes.

Simply because you are your father’s extension.

So what’s this? Why bother now?

“It was clear you didn’t like me,” You whispered quietly. “Which is fine, Aaron, really. I understand— I mean, I was hurt obviously. But… but I understand. I’ll just have to move on, right?”

“You’ve no idea what you’re saying…” He mumbled hoarsely, still piercing you with his darkened gaze. With quick steps, he bridged the gap between you and cupped your cheeks on both his hands.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Aaron…”

“How can I let you move on when that thought alone is killing me?”

Your breath hitched at his words. “W-what?”

“Fuck this,” He spat angrily before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “You’re driving me mad, sweetheart.”

The sound of muffled laughter, distant conversations, and clinking glasses filtered in through the partially open window. You can barely hear a word of what your father was saying in his speech. All you are aware of is how Aaron desperately chased your lips with hungry and deep kisses, and how the weight of his body was forcing you to blindly take several steps back.

You melted into his sinful lips, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. You felt his hands move down to your waist, gripping tightly the thin fabric of your satin dress. The sound of ragged breathing mingled in the air as he walked you backward, backward until your back finally hit the wall.

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and leaving a wet trail of heat in your wake.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. “Aaron…”

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. His big, calloused hands roamed over your body, exploring, familiarizing you.

“Aaron, what are you—” You rasped weakly as he broke another kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t do that again…” He whispered back, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something, I’ll do something just don’t—”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

“You’ve no idea what you were saying. Your confession— how can you think that I don’t like you?”

“Well…” You blushed, still catching your breath. “You didn’t say anything after, then you sent me home. You didn’t attend my graduation. You didn’t reply to my texts or even congratulate me.”

“You told me I don’t have to say anything…”

“Well, technically, if you didn’t say anything then you don’t like me.”

“You really have no idea what you’re saying, darling.”

You shivered at his whispered words, feeling a surge of boldness. Your hands found the button of his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. You clumsily tugged on his tie and ripped his clothes off of him, tossing them aside.

Aaron Hotchner could only watch in anticipation as you let the strap of your dress fall on the soft curve of your shoulders... until all your clothes quickly became a forgotten pile on the floor, your moans intertwining like ropes in the party-stained air.

As always, any thoughts and reactions are highly appreciated. Plus, to anon who requested this, YOU ARE AN ANGEL. I loved crafting this with this plot, and hopefully, you liked it as much as I do! See you all on the next ones, we have a few other good requests!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #dbf!aaron hotchner #dbf!hotch #rolipops requests #criminal minds fanfiction

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anna-357 · 1 year ago

Text

Seventeen fic recs

M=smut, F=fluff, A=angst

Choi Seungcheol

baby, it’s cold outside m @idyllic-ghost

synopsis: winter time is the perfect time for love to blossom, in the cold air you find yourself needing to be warmed up in the arms of someone new. this holiday season was something special, something magical. it all started with meeting an old friend in your very own bookstore. somehow, it ended with him in your bed. what once seemed buried started making its way up again, and the ice around your heart seemed to be thawing. can old love be renewed?

In the eye of the beholder m @cheolism

summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.

Possessive ends m @cheolism

summary: when seungcheol reacts a little too oddly at you calling him a posessive slut, you decide to take advantage of it

Yoon Jeonghan

Apartment 222 m @number1mingyustan

Rule number 1: don't show up drunk at your hot neighbor's apartment if it’s 2am

Holiday m f a @onlymingyus

synopsis: It's only for a week, he's doing you a favor, and he's your fake boyfriend. Why do you have to keep reminding yourself of that?

Sweater paws m f @duhnova

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.

Hong Jisoo

Challenge me chapter 1 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

Mr. nice guy m @toruro

you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.

Best friends brother m a @chocosvt

synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

Moon Junhui

sounds of the season f @junkissed

synopsis: when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?

match of the season m f @1-800-hwahui

part 2 from sounds of the season

Something spicy, something sweet m f @onlyhuis

synopsis | the last few days you've been coming home from work exhausted, but now that you finally have a day off you have time for a little something sweet from your boyfriend.

Kwon Soonyoung

7pm ft. Seokmin, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

charity f*ck m @ncteez

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.

vowels and veracity m f a @hansolmates

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

Jeon Wonwoo

Challenge me chapter 2 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

the regular f @trblsvt

summary: wonwoo couldn't really recommend anything at the bakery he worked at, he couldn't even handle going in a couple days a week. that is until he found his new favorite customer.

Tell me m @fvllingflower

college!wonwoo, f!reader

Lee Jihoon

DON’T SWEAT IT m f @miraclewoozi

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

then you came f a @lovelywoos

in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

Mwah f @cheolism

summary: three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

Xu minghao

Rush hour m @lovelyhan

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

Felix Felicis f a @blue-jisungs

summary. befriending minghao, the slytherin your friends (no one knows why) hated was horrifying at first. but after some time passed, you’d start wondering if it was some unknown side effects of felix felicis

Art project m f @1-800-hwahui

art major grad student bf!minghao x fem reader

Kim Mingyu

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.

the very first night m a @shuadrive

synopsis: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

make yourself at home f a @celestiababie

Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship

Lee Seokmin

7pm ft. Soonyoung, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

I like you m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.

Give & Take m @ncteez

It’s not weird that you and your roommate do certain things that others would consider, um, strange. It’s not weird because you don’t make it weird, and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to make a big deal either. or the one where you and your roommate masturbate together casually until it becomes not so casual, and maybe neither of you can do it at this point without wanting more.

Boo Seungkwan

7pm ft. Soonyoung, seokmin m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.

his reward m f @cheolism

summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs

Chwe Hansol

not a virgin m @ncteez

Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.

tangled in love f @starsstuddedsky

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

Daybreak m @sluttyminghao

best friend!vernon

Lee Chan

Now spit, baby m @rubyreduji

summary: you accidently send a meme to the wrong person, fortunately for you it sparks a conversation

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

@matchahyuck

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babygorewhore · 2 months ago

Text

Psychoanalyze

Cooper Adams/Abbott x therapist!fem reader

Serial killer the Butcher is in your house. You have to use your training to keep yourself from becoming his next victim. But he has a surprising reaction to your survival tactic.

Gif credit belongs to @billy-crudup

Warnings! A lot. Talks of his crimes! Reader is a behavioral therapist at a hospital! Manipulation! Switch! Cooper! But he submissive at first. Mommy kink but only used once! Reader is vaguely described to be midsize range. Praise, Degrading, oral fem receiving, fingering, face slapping, spitting, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected sex, choking, stomach bulge. Cum eating? Filthy talk tbh. They’re both fucked up. Reader is dominated second half of fic. Finger sucking.

“Make sure to keep your doors locked, Mom. Set the alarm too.” You instruct your worried mother over the phone. You gave her a step by step reminder on how to alert the alarm just using her app.

You sighed and hung up after a few minutes. You saw the news earlier, reading the headline about Cooper being the Butcher. It made you feel cold and empty. Being a counselor, you are trained to study human behavior. He also happened to work close to you.

Still early in your career, you were working in the behavioral unit at the local hospital. The fire department was always called during emergencies and you saw him on a regular basis.

One afternoon, during a particularly chaotic shift, you had talked down a violent patient who had gotten a hold of a nurse.

Cooper watched you the whole time with a dark expression on his face and it made you feel on edge. He gave you a feeling that beneath his friendly, pep in his step, easy going act that there was something else. Something he hid away.

Turns out, it was worse than you could have imagined. Bodies, dismemberment and a seven year long manhunt over the man who’d vowed to save lives.

You finished chewing a piece of candy, tossing the trash in the garbage and turned around. You immediately covered your mouth as a gasp escaped you, losing your balance as your lower back hit the counter painfully.

Cooper was sitting at your table, tense and his hand was inches away from a knife. His plaid shirt was unbuttoned at the top. You swallowed back the urge to sprint, knowing he’d lunge at you and enjoy the fear.

“How did you get in?” You asked simply, straightening your spine.

“I have a key.” He answered in the same casual tone. You nodded and turned your head but Cooper cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t consider that. By the time you grab something or try and run, it’ll be too late.”

You weighed your options. Cooper was a very big man. Strong and stealthy. More than you anticipated. You could try anyway, use speed to your advantage but instead you tried another tactic.

“Cooper, if you leave and don’t hurt me, I won’t call the police for an hour. Giving you a good head start.”

“I like your confidence.” Cooper’s compliment sent shivers across your body and you clenched your fingers into a fist. The tension in the air was thick and he leaned forward.

“I would appreciate it if you sat down.” Although the statement was polite, you knew he wasn’t really asking. He was commanding you.

You eased yourself down onto the chair, your muscles flexing and he grazed his fingers along the knife handle. Cooper inhaled deeply and extended his hand.

“May I have your phone? I’d rather not take it from you.”

You gave him your device, making sure the screen was still locked and he tucked it in his pocket.

“You perplex me.” He tells you, making your eyebrows draw together. “Normally, I see someone who thinks they’re whole and I get the urge to tear them apart.” Cooper savors those last words, as if speaking them could make him relive his crimes. “But with you, I get the feeling that you don’t actually have things together. That it’s all an act.”

You were terrified. Every single nerve in your body was telling you to run away but Cooper’s dark eyes implored yours. Keeping you still and he set a firm palm on your arm. His touch was warm and you flinched.

“I want you to try and understand me. Watching you work is like watching…artwork.” He humorlessly laughed and your bottom lip quivered.

You searched your brain for any memory of what the news said about the Butcher. Organized offender, terrible relationship with his mother, position of authority. It was one thing to hear these things versus having a patient with these traits.

“I think you do really love your kids.” That you did know. You saw their picture as the background of his phone. The only sign of humanity showed when he talked about his children. Cooper gave you a small smirk.

“You…you want to be accepted for who you are. You want to be told that you’re enough. That you’re lovable.” You were grasping at straws but trying to sound collected.

Cooper looked away and you knew that hit a nerve. “You want someone to take care of you.” You continued and moved forward. “Am I on the right track?” He jerked his head in a nod.

“You’re a good boy and you can keep being one. If you just do the right thing and don’t hurt me.” You whispered, setting your hands on his knees. This was incredibly stupid and risky but Cooper blinked rapidly.

“I’m not going to hurt you anymore, Cooper. I promise. Just promise me that you’ll be a good boy?”

Your question went unanswered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You yelped, your legs dangling as he carried you to the bedroom. Normally, you hated the idea of someone picking you up but Cooper easily hauled you on the bed. You landed in a heap on your back. You climbed on your elbows, watching him remove his shirt in the dim lighting.

His mountain sized form shook as he crawled on top of you. Cooper kept his weight from crushing you and you sighed in disbelief as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

The fact that a serial killer was in your bedroom, breathing against your skin shirtless made you half wonder if this was a dream. But your body was betraying you. Your senses were leaving as Cooper’s full lips pressed against your pulse point.

Your legs instinctively widened and he settled further in between them. His thick thighs covered in jeans rubbing against you. You had on pajama shorts, exposing your curves and he ran his hand down until it settled on your hip.

Cooper gave it a steady squeeze as his tongue darted out, tasting your skin and he groaned. Your nipples were hardening inside your hoodie and you ached to touch him but held yourself back. This was wrong, this was so incredibly wrong!

“Let me worship you,” He grunted and peppered kisses down your chest. Cooper tugged down the zipper of your shirt, exposing your tits and he took a nipple in his mouth.

His teeth grazed the bud and you whined. Back arching and he started sucking hard enough to leave marks. You hadn’t been fucked in a while, too busy with your job to spend time with anyone but Cooper’s desperate noises made your core pulse.

“Such pretty tits, you taste so good. I can’t wait to sample how sweet you are,” Cooper peeled off your shorts and underwear. You saw him slide them into his pocket before he distracted you with his mouth traveling down your stomach.

His hands were heavy and firm. Laced with age and calluses but he did have a gentleness that prevented unpleasant pain. Instead of pushing your legs as wide as possible, Cooper held your knees. Keeping your thighs high and you couldn’t squirm away.

All your thoughts merged together and seemed into the present moment. You didn’t think about how dangerous he was or that he broke into your house.

“You’re being such a good boy,” You whimpered and Cooper released a guttural moan. He hungrily sucked your clit, making you cry out and bury your hands in his hair.

The silky strands between your fingers were the only way you could ground yourself as he spit and licked up after himself. Your pussy clenched around his tongue and your entire body burned. Cooper wasn’t tentative at all like the other men you’d been with. He buried his entire face, his nose hitting your center and he humped the bed. You knew he wasn’t just eating you out for your pleasure, it was for his own too. You could barely breathe from the pressure in your stomach and lungs as he held your knees tighter.

Your ass was almost off the mattress as Cooper devoured your cunt. His large size gave you a small reality check that he could easily kill you. You shrieked when you released one leg and pressed two girthy fingers inside you. He was able to reach the deepest spot, curling them and making your mouth hang open. It was enough that your climax was scratching the surface. Cooper’s intensity increased and he added another finger as he messily licked your clit.

An explosion hit you, making you let out an embarrassingly loud wail and your free leg clamped around his head. Your cum gave him more slickness as Cooper continued fingering you through it. His lips hovered above your pussy, pressing open mouth kisses against your lower stomach.

Even in the low lighting, you could see the black lust in his gaze as he lifted up. Sticky arousal coated the entire lower half of his face.

“Did that feel good, mommy?” His voice was croaky, almost like he was going to cry and you moaned. You undid his belt, furiously pulling down his pants and boxers.

Your leg hoisted around his waist and you pushed him onto his back. Cooper threw his head back as you situated yourself on top. His dick was big, throbbing as you lined yourself and sank down. He huffed and you laced your fingers with his.

You started rocking, sweat gathering on your skin but he only remained pinned down for a few seconds. He sat up, cupping the back of your head and crushed your lips together. The kiss wasn’t romantic. It was harsh, brutal and bordering on rage.

Your nails raked down his arms, making him growl against your mouth and he pulled your lower lip with his teeth. You gripped his cheeks, spitting in his mouth and then you slapped him.

Cooper looked animalistic as he drove his hips harder into you. It felt like you were going to split open, like it wasn’t going to fit all the way.

“Pathetic little boy,” You hit him again, this time on the other side. “You like that? Like being punished?” Your words were filled with venom and he was trembling so hard it was difficult to keep fucking him.

Cooper’s release hit him violently and he made noises that almost brought you to a second orgasm. Cum seeped in your pussy and your cunt hurt from how turned on you were. He sputtered and groaned. His arms were crushing you but you enjoyed the discomfort.

Whatever submission he had, it vanished as he flipped you over. Cooper’s hand shoved your face down into the pillow as he maneuvered your ass up.

You panted as he sharply slapped your ass, his tip rubbing against your slit. Drool pooled out of your mouth and Cooper pinned your dominant arm behind your back.

“You think you’ve beaten me? By making me bust my load that quickly?” He slammed into you balls deep and it hurt enough to make tears spring. Feeling you recoil inward, he massaged your clit and made you let out a pornographic sound.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to be nothing but a cum slut for me. I’m gonna make it drip out of you,” He thrusted hard, making the bed move and you bit down on the material of the pillow.

“You’re fucking helpless. You get that? I could hurt you and you couldn’t stop it.” He laughed, a crazed noise that horrified you. But his dick kept you from acting like a rational person.

“I was going to make you my victim but now you’re gonna be my whore.” Cooper’s filthy words made you choke on a sob as you came on his cock.

He didn’t let you stay in that position, merely tossing you on your back and shoving his dick in. But he did allow you to touch him, claw at his back and wrap your legs around him. Cooper locked his hand around your throat and you were rendered entirely at his mercy.

His frame caged you in and he pressed on your stomach with his other palm.

“Cream on my dick. Your pussy is so goddamn tight, I can feel it like this,” You were delirious and he tapped your cheek with two fingers. “Awww, what’s wrong, princess? Cock so good you went stupid on me?”

His mocking was followed by his seed gushing into you. Cooper rode out his orgasm and pulled out. He jerked himself off, covering your stomach in cum. Taking his finger, he pushed it past your lips. Making you taste both of your releases.

“You’re mine now. And you’re going to be a good little slut. Aren’t you?” You mindlessly nodded, sucking his digit and Cooper gave you a wicked smile.

“Atta girl. Now, get on the floor. Start at the door and crawl to me.”

Tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @amethystblackkchaos @cryobabyy @hereforthehitsbaby @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @rottenangel @rosaleelovesdilfs @strangererotica @justafangirls-blog @coopers-bunny @thebutchersbitch @redpillbluepill @rubyfruitjungle @lovalova444 @oceanblvd111 @stillwjk-channie-lixie

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#cooper #cooper adams #Cooper Adams smut #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams x you #cooper adams x y/n #cooper abbot #cooper abbott #Cooper Abbott x fem reader #Cooper Abbott smut #Cooper Abbott x you #Cooper Abbott fanfiction #josh hartnett #Josh Hartnett characters #josh hartnett fanfic #Trap #trap 2024 #trap movie #m night shyamalan

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cat9901234 · 21 days ago

Text

Meet cutes NYC

In which during the Miami race, a certain power couple gets interviewed and finally reveal the details of how they met.

warnings: none.

childhoodsweetheart! reader x lewis hamilton

“Excuse me, sorry are you two a couple?” the man walks up to them, catching Lewis and especially his wife by surprise.

“We are,” Lewis smiles proudly

“Could you guys please tell me the story of how the two of you met?”

Lewis’ face instantly lights up and y/n laughs at her husband's reaction, not remembering the last time she had been asked that. “That’s a long story-, oh my god wait I think I've seen you guys on uh Insta right?"

"Yes, we go around mainly New York to ask couples how they met," the interviewer informs. “We’ve got time,” Lewis shrugs, “as long you're alright with it?” He looks at his wife knowing well y/n was always the private one about her personal life.

“Is it for your channel or something?” y/n asks politely, still a little hesitant about the idea.

“We go around all over New york but also around the world asking couples how they’ve met,” he shows them their instagram page. Y/n's eyes widen at the large following count and is satisfied about their legitimacy.

“Sure why not, but again it’s a long story,” she laughs leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do you want to start us off?”

“We met when we were eight, I believe y/n was new to the area at the time. Anyways, I actually was on the playground by myself, didn’t have any friends at the time but this one comes along and walks up to me and compliments me because she saw me in a newspaper. We were at the time one of the very few coloured people in our school. We then became inseparable and very close with my family. She even used to look after my brother when I was away during races.”

“Almost every holiday break I would come down and watch him race, that's actually how I met Susie and Seb and Nico,” Y/n adds.

“She used to always buy me these chocolates from the news agency for my birthday each year and we would split it, at the time because I was putting all my money into racing. But anyways, when we were fifteen, I asked her out to become my girlfriend, I was also racing more but like we would always write letters and email to contact each other. I would always get her to fly over and spend time with me during holiday breaks so we could spend more time together, hang out. When we graduated actually, I asked her to marry me,” he bashfully said, rubbing the back of his neck as his wife blushed at the memory and covered her face with her hand.

“Really?” the interviewer exclaims.

“Yeah,” Lewis nods, “you know like I didn’t want to be apart from her. She you know was—, is my everything. She believed in me when no one else wouldn’t.”

“So what happened?��

“Well you know at the time we were so young and both so ambitious in our own rights. I think what was going through my head at the time was that we had so much to discover about ourselves and definitely at that age the relationship with the media and Lewis’ career on the rise wouldn't have worked. Also, the fact that I wanted to do so many things as well for myself would have held Lewis back, and I knew deep within me that I would have been selfish for that," Y/n continues. "You know he means so much to young kids of colour, to fans of formula one, etc and that was that. So you know we talked about it, cried and yelled about it but in the end it was very mutual and we both understood. So we broke it off—”

“Sorry, but I remember her saying you know after all the crying and yelling that I was gonna date around actresses and models, marry a model slash actress and stuff. But I remember clear as day I said to her that I wasn’t going to marry anyone if wasn’t her; and she thought I was joking—”

“Well I mean hello he was what seventeen/eighteen at the time. Also what he said was just a coincidence,” y/n cuts in.

“Nuh. Nuh, I didn’t realise it till after I married you,” he teased. Y/n rolls her eyes at his cheesiness that has the interviewer smiling from cheek to cheek.

“Anyways, long story short, we met through Nicholas, Lewis' brother. He was in Uganda helping out a charity I helped organise with a friend where we were building a school. From memory he posted about us to get some views for donating,” Y/n summed it up.

“The moment I saw it I immediately asked Nico for her contacts because I just wanted to meet her. We were in contact for about a month before I invited her to a race, we then immediately hit it off like and we dated for a year then got married.”

“Wow,” the person breathed, “so you’ve known each other since you were eight. What would you say is your favourite thing about each other?”

Y/n chuckles as Lewis can’t help but laugh at her too.

“I think for me,” Y/n starts, “is how giving he is and how much attention he pays. Like you know even back when we were kids he would always try to get me small things like for example when I visited him in 2003 he gave me this necklace here actually,” she shows off the simple pearl pendant necklace, “because I mentioned once that I really liked pearls because from memory were talking about gemstones. But like even now he’s just so thoughtful and stuff.”

“For me it’s her kindness, and she’s always looked past first appearances cause like for me personally I was never anyone’s first choice. Whether that was games or-, or on the playground—, she chose me first and that meant so much. You know, even with my brother, she didn’t think much of it, she was never embarrassed about being seen with him, playing with him and making sure he feels included like that’s when I knew I was in love with her,” Lewis explained.

“Well, thank you guys so much!"

"no worries man, take care."

#f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 10 months ago

Text

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

#the not as hot as ur pictures thing is a real thing my ex said to me after we’d been together for like six months lol called me ugly 😭#legally blonde au #steddie #steddie fic #steddie legally blonde au #this will EVENTUALLY be steddie if i write more lol #robin buckley #steve harrington #platonic stobin #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #i’m setting it up!!!!!#eddie will be a bartender not a law guy sorry!!!! lawyer!eddie just don’t feel right to me #steddie fanfiction #steddie blurb #guess what i watched tonight #well i also watched mean girls lol #here have this half finished thing #i wanted to finish it before posting but

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Possessive

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."

Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.

Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration

Masterlist

Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.

He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.

"Should we help her?"

"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."

"But it would be so satisfying if we did."

"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."

The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"

Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.

The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.

"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.

Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.

"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.

Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."

There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."

The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.

Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.

She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.

The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.

The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.

So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.

Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.

"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.

"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."

"And if I proved you wrong?"

Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.

"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."

Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.

"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."

"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."

"Good. Then let's go find Lando."

Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.

"Lando? You alright love?"

"Doing what you're told is much less fun."

Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.

She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.

Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.

"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"

Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.

"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.

Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.

"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.

Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.

"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"

Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."

"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.

Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.

"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."

To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.

Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.

Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.

It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.

They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.

She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.

The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.

Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.

They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.

"That was eventful."

"No kidding."

"Sorry if I was to rough."

All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."

Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."

"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."

"I still can't believe you punched him."

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."

"Remind me to never challenge you again."

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kaliforniahigh · 3 months ago

Note

Fic request idea? You and Noah have happily been together for a few years. Your next anniversary happens while he's on tour so you secretly coordinate a plan with Matt to surprise Noah in whatever city they're in. After you get to the hotel, you look for Noah. You find him outside by the pool area talking to a pretty girl in a bikini. The girl puts her arm around him and takes a selfie. She keeps her hand on him way too long and gets a flirty look on her face. You've seen other fans interact with Noah and are always unbothered but now you've never felt so jealous and sick to your stomach, so you go back to your room. What you didn't see was Noah politely remove the girl's hand and turn her down. After a brief nap, you still feel really sick and emotional (more so than usual) and Noah doesn't know you're there yet so you debate if you should just go home. You can fill in the next parts but include lots of angst, avoiding each other, avoiding calls/texts, reader still feeling sick, talking about that misunderstanding. It all ends with you telling Noah "I'm pregnant".

I love dad omens :((( Thank you the request. I hope you like it! Hopefully I didn't stray too much from what you wanted.

Warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, reader is insecure, jealousy, a little bit of angst, happy ending. I think that's it. Noah is ecstatic about being a dad.

WC: 4k (I haven't proofread this yet!)

Requests are closed for now.

Eight years was a big milestone. It's been eight years since you've been dating the love of your life. Spending anniversaries apart wasn't anything unsual for you two. Noah was on tour for the most part of the year, and chances are he would be somewhere far away when the day of your anniversary arrived.

This year was no different, he was all the way on the east coast, while you stayed in your California home. But something felt different this time around.

It was no secret you and Noah had a very active sex life, that became even more active whenever he was about to leave for tour. However, you were both very careful every time. He always wore a condom, since you couldn't be on the pill due to health reasons.

A few weeks after he left, you started to feel the first symptoms. At work, you noticed you needed to use the bathroom so frequently, you sworn you were in the bathroom every fifteen minutes to pee.

You felt more tired than usual, almost being late for work a couple of times, since you couldn't open your eyes long enough to get up from the bed.

At first, you thought your immunity might be too low or that you needed to take some vitamins. But when the nausea and vomiting started, it got you more concerned. You decided to check your app to see when was the last time you have gotten your period.

You suspicions were confirmed when you saw that you didn't get your period at all this month. Running to the pharmacy, you thought that buying a pregnancy test was your best option until you could get a consult with your doctor.

While you were cruising the isles, you thought about Noah and how he would feel about this - if the test came out positive. You've been together for a long time, and you've discussed having a family many times over the years. Getting married and having kids were on your agenda, but not for right now.

You were both under 30 and he was so busy with the band, you could see the problem in trying to raise a baby when he was so far away for months on end.

You lived in a different state than the rest of your family, so having a support system here in California would be so difficult. You would be on maternity leave, sure, but at some point you would have to go back to work, and who would take care of your baby then? You didn't want to put them in daycare so early.

Your mind was running with a million thoughts, as you grabbed two Clearblue tests and ran to the checkout line. The cashier noticed your uneasiness and didn't attempt to make any small talk.

Now, you were sat on the toilet as you eyed both tests, gathering the courage to take them, because once you did, the situation would become very real.

You wished Noah was here with you. You didn't care if would freak out or stay calm, you just needed someone to do this with you. You debated calling him, but decided against it. You wouldn't tell him a life-altering information with him on the other side of the country.

You had no other choice, so you took your pants and underwear off to pee on the stick that would probably change your life forever. You watched the countdown on the stick with a bated breath. You looked away, not being able to look at it as it did it's thing.

You gnawed at your nails, biting them and even drawing some blood in the process, legs bouncing incessantly. After a few minutes, you grabbed the test again and looked at the little display.

Pregnant.

Tears welled in your eyes as you put the test back on the counter. Crying was the best response you could conjure up right now, so that's what you did. You sat on the bathroom toilet and cried your eyes out, sobs racking through your body as it became difficult for you to breath.

After minutes of this, your body began to feel exhausted and you seemed to be running out of tears. You tried to breath more evenly now, standing up from the toilet, you washed you face and blew your nose. Not being able to do much else with how emotionally exhausted you were, you decided to just go to bed and sleep this off. Tomorrow was Saturday, so you had the whole day to think about this.

You went under the covers and grabbed your phone, looking at some pictures of baby Noah that he has sent you over the years, a little smile playing on your lips at the sight of him so cute and so small.

You wished for your baby to have his eyes, his beautiful voice and kind heart. You wondered if they would have his dark, straight hair or your light and slightly wavy one. You wanted them to inherit his height so you could get them in some kind of sport, maybe basketball or volleyball. Or maybe their dad would teach them how to play an instrument and they would be in a band as well.

Your heart felt a little lighter at all the scenarios you were conjuring up in your mind. Your eyes felt heavy from all the crying and soon you were plugging your phone to charge on the bed side table, cuddling up to Noah's blanket, drifting off to sleep thinking about the little human you were growing inside of you.

The next day, you texted Matt and started to organize a surprise for Noah on tour. You knew they had a two day break next week, so you would use those days to surprise him and tell the - hopefully good - news.

You spent the week getting your bags ready and the house organized before you left. You even took the time to run to the store and pick up a baby onesie that said "rad like dad" on the front, along with a box for you to put it inside with the pregnancy test you kept.

You thought about scheduling a doctor's appointment before traveling, but you wanted Noah to be there with you, and since tour was wrapping up not too long after you visited, you decided to wait.

Even though you felt like he would be happy with the fact that you were going to have a baby, you still needed to be prepared to talk about your options if needed.

As you sat on the plane, thousands of feet up in the air, you willed the discomfort in your stomach away. You knew that the possibility of you feeling sick on the flight was real, but you would avoid it as much as you could. You rubbed your still flat belly, a silent way to tell your baby to settle down, as you closed your eyes and tried to nap.

The next time you opened your eyes, there was only an hour until you touched down. You coordinated everything with Matt. You had your room you would be staying in to get everything ready for your surprise. It wasn't much, you just planned on leaving the box with the onesie and pregnancy test inside on the bed for him to see when he came into the room.

It was a nice hotel, with a big pool according to what you saw online, and you totally intended on taking advantage of that, soaking in the sun and playing in the water.

After you landed, there was an Uber waiting to take you back to the hotel, Matt assured you they all went out for lunch, so there was no chance of you running into Noah in the middle of the hotel lobby.

Checking in, you took your bags up to your room, taking a few clothes out and hanging them inside the closet. You put your toiletries in the bathroom and took your airplane clothes off in order to take a warm shower and change into some new clothes.

You were drying your hair when your phone pinged with a succesion of text messages.

Noah: Hi, my sweet love. The boys and I went out for lunch and now we're sitting by the pool.

This is the life.

Wish you were here with me. I love you so much.

You smiled the biggest smile of probably the entire week. He had that effect on you every time.

You: Hi, baby! Enjoy the pool for me. Can't wait to see you again! I love you more <3

You replied and decided that a trip downstairs to the pool was in order.

You grabbed the box, onesie and pregnancy test you brought with you and set everything on the bed. You were glad you haven't messed up the bed yet by yanking the covers off, this way everything looked more put together.

You put on your bikini and before you put on one of Noah's shirts over your body, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The thought of having a baby didn't terrify you as much anymore, and you actually pictured yourself sporting a beautiful baby bump, a sign of the love you and Noah shared.

Snapping out of your reverie, you grabbed some sunscreen and your sunglasses and made your way to the pool area. You staked the place out first, trying to sneak up on him.

You saw him in the distance, along with Jolly and Folio. He was taking pictures with a couple of fans and you didn't think much of it, until you observed a little and saw that he seemed awfully comfortable with these barely clothed girls.

You were never jealous, you actually thought the pictures he took with fans were cute most of the time, and he was always respectful, mindful of his hand placement and avoiding getting too close. There were actually a few pictures out there of him doing the hover hand, not wanting to touch another girl's waist.

But this time, not only was his arm wrapped around her middle, his hand was clutching her waist, her body sticking to his, boobs - covered only by the thin cloth of her bikini top - smushed on his chest. You looked at his face for any sign of discomfort, but he was sporting a grin on his lips.

The girl wraps her arm around his torso as the other girl behind the cellphone snaps the picture. As they were separating, she took the opportunity to take his hand in hers, and you saw a look on her face that only another girl would recognize.

It was a look of hunger and she was blatantly flirting with him. His grin never faltered and you were left wondering why in the hell were his hand still holding hers.

You didn't stay to see the rest of their interation, a wave of nausea hitting you and you were sure if you didn't run back to the elevator you would throw up all over the place.

As soon as you entered your hotel room, you barely had the time to close the door behind you and ran to the bathroom, spilling all of the contents in your stomach into the toilet. You threw up until there was nothing left to come out, and you wondered if it was the pregnancy making you feel sick or if it was what you just witnessed.

Either way, you sat on the bathroom floor, all the energy and excitement leaving your body, as well as the confidence you build up about having this baby.

Noah was young, he toured the entire world and met so many new faces. What if one day he decided you weren't enough for him anymore and he needed someone new, someone more exciting. You didn't want to ruin the rest of his life by tying him to you because of your baby. You knew relationships like that always became bitter and hateful.

Your phone buzzed next to you on the bathroom counter and you saw it was a text from Matt.

Matty: We're by the pool. Noah went up to his room, do you want to surprise him there?

You sighed. That was your plan, but it all completely fell apart just minutes ago.

You: I don't feel so good. I think it was the flight.

Matty: I have some medicine in my room, do you want me to drop it off at yours?

You debated on what to tell him. It all felt so painful having to deal with all of this on your own. Maybe talking to someone would do you some good. Matt was always good at giving advice, and he knew Noah as well as you did, maybe he could shine some light in your situation.

You: ok, I need to talk to you, though, it's kind of serious.

Matty: oh shit, I'll be there in 5.

You only had time to brush your teeth before there was a knock on your door. You left the bathroom to answer it and sure enough, Matt was standing on the other side,

"I realized I didn't ask what you were feeling, so I grabbed the whole medicine bag", he held up a bag with a red cross on the front. You could always trust Matt with medicine, he always carried all sorts of things with him.

"It's ok, come on in", you stepped inside and he followed after you. You weren't actually gonna take anything, since you didn't know what you could and couldn't take due to your pregnancy.

"Hmmm", you heard Matt hesitate, before saying "Y/N, am I meant to see this?", you looked over at him and saw him poiting to the surprise on the bed. You have completely forgotten you placed it there before leaving to go to the pool.

"I was about to tell you about that, actually", you sat down on the bed and put your face in your hands.

"This is good, right? We're happy about this?", he questioned as he dragged one of the chairs in the room to sit in front of you.

"We were happy about this, until maybe fifteen minutes ago"

"What happened fifteen minutes ago?", he asked you, noticing the crestfallen look on your face.

"I went down to the pool area to surprise Noah, and I saw him taking pictures with those girls, and I don't know, I felt this monster grow inside of me and I just couldn't take it", you gave him the short version.

"Those girls were very pushy. What did you see?"

"I saw him very happy to be touching the body of a woman who is almost half naked beside him. His face wasn't exactly sad", you rolled your eyes, the images flashing back in your mind.

"Y/N, you only saw half of it, I swear that is not what happened", he told you and you gave him a look for him to keep going. "Ok, so we were sitting on the chairs by the pool, when these two girls approached us and asked for pictures. We said ok, because this happens all the time. They took pictures with everyone and Noah was the last one. He was standing next to her, both of his arms were placed in front of him, and he wasn't touching her at all", he really looked at you when saying this, and you nodded to show him you understood.

"But I guess she wasn't good with that, she grabbed his hand out of nowhere, and forcefully placed it on her waist. He was so shocked, he didn't know what to do. Her friend snapped the first picture and I guess she wasn't happy with that either, because she told him he needed to smile. So she told her friend to take another one. He didn't even share a word with her, because he honestly didn't know what to say or how to act in that situation"

You thought of every other fan interation you've seen him have. He was an introvert and sometimes didn't know how to react to things, specially when fans are involved. You suddently felt angry, not at him, but at the girl coming at him like that.

Was she even a fan? Or did she only want a picture to boast about meeting Noah? And the nerve she had, telling him to smile?

"He went up to his room after the interation, he was very overwhelmed", Matt finished his explanation.

"He must be feeling so bad", you thought out loud.

"He was just uncomfortable, you know how he is about his privacy and personal space", he observed.

"I know. I feel so bad for jumping to conclusions", you sighed out loud.

"Hey, don't feel sorry. You have a whole other thing going on here", he pointed to the pregnancy test.

"About that, I might need your help once again", you told him, a little nervous tilt on your voice.

"Sure, just tell me what to do"

So you told him to text Noah, telling him to come to room 305 - your room - and meet him there.

Matt left with a hug and a good luck, and you paced around the room, thinking about how these next minutes would play out.

A knock on the door came not too long after, you looked in the mirror, realizing you haven't changed out of Noah's shirt from earlier. But you hurried to answer the door anyways.

"Did you change your...", his voice trailed as soon as he saw you standing on the other side of the door. Jaw going slack and eyes widening in surprise.

"Surprise?", you said, opening your arms for him.

"Are you real?" he said in disbelief.

"Hug me and find out", it took him a few seconds for him to snap into action, crashing into your arms and hugging you tight.

"I can't believe you're here, oh my god", he said, hands roaming everywhere and touching every piece of you he could. You parted for a second and looked him in the eye.

"Yeah, I am", you giggled at little at his shocked expression.

"How did you do this?" he asked, taking your face in his hands. Neither one of you caring you were still standing on your door.

"I had a little help from Matt"

"Remind me to thank him later", he gave you a peck on the lips, both of you smiling into the kiss. "Get in that room, I have nothing to do for the rest of the day"

You stopped him from trying to walk you backward into the room.

"I actually have a surprise for you. I need you to close your eyes", you told him, a sheepish look taking over your face.

"Hmm, a surprise? I love that", he wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed and slapped him lightly in the chest.

"It's nothing like that, silly. Now close your eyes", he did as he was told, a smile still lingering on his face. You closed the door behind you and led him to stand in front of the bed.

You stood to his side, wanting to see his every reaction to this information, as you told him to open his eyes.

A million thoughts raced on his head, the first thing he saw was the onesie, "rad like dad" written on it, next was the pregnancy test and he has to lean a little closer to read "pregnant" written on the little display.

"You're pregnant?", he asked, looking at you. His mouth was agape and his eyes were even wider than before.

"Yeah"

"We're having a baby?"

"Yeah"

His hand flew to his mouth, attempting to cover his shocked expression, muttering "oh my god" to himself over and over again. You wouldn't lie, you were starting to freak out a little bit. A few seconds passed before something snapped in him. He gathered you up in his arms, your feet almost lifting from the floor.

"I'm going to be a dad? You're gonna make me a dad?" he asked, face buried in your hair.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a dad", you said, stroking his hair. His body shook a little and you could tell he was crying. You let him have his moment, so you just hugged him and stroked his hair softly. After a few minutes, he parted from you, with eyes glossy and cheeks wet with tears, but his smile was so big, it could light up a whole room.

"You make me the happiest man on this planet, I can't even believe this is real", he still held you close to his body. You suddently felt crazy for ever overthinking this.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty nervous when I found out", you admitted, his smile fell a little at this.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I can imagine finding out you're pregnant by yourself was pretty scary", his hand stroked your cheeks.

"It's ok, you're here now, that's all that matters"

"Take your shirt off", he told you, taking hold of the bottom of your - his - shirt.

"Noah, I don't know about this. I haven't been to a doctor's appointment yet" you said, unsure if you should be doing this.

"I don't mean it like that. Just take your shirt off, please?", you did like he wanted, as he kneeled in front of you.

He splayed both of his hands on your belly and started talking to your baby.

"Hi, sweet girl, this is your dada", he started, and you could die happily in this moment. "I'm so excited to meet you, but it's gonna take a while until we get to do that. Until then, you'll stay warm and healthy in your mommy's belly", he tapped your belly twice to get his point across. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight before you. You have everything you could have possibly wanted in the world.

"Daddy loves you so much already, you're going to be a spoiled little girl when you come to the other side. And you're gonna have the most amazing and beautiful mommy in the world", he looked up at you, to see tears streaming down your face. He got up to kiss them away. "How do you feel about getting married with a baby bump?", he asked you, and you sobbed even harder.

"It sounds really nice", you crashed on his arms, and he moved the both of you to lay on the bed, carefully placing the onesie and pregnancy test on the bed side table.

He cuddled you closer, hand stroking your belly nonstop, a habit he would develop during your pregancy, along with talking and singing to your bump. When you calmed down a little, he got up to turn off the lights and grab the remote, turning the TV on and getting back on the bed, pulling the cover over the both of you.

"Thank you for being the most amazing man on the planet. I honestly wouldn't know what to do without you", you told him, he thanked you with a kiss on the lips.

"The band is taking a break after this tour, and there is no questioning about it. I wanna be there for you through everything. I wanna help decorate her nursery and go to every doctor's appointment", he told with determination.

"You keeping calling the baby a girl", you giggled as you pointed it out.

"I just know it's a girl", he started to draw swirls with his finger over your belly.

"Well, she's gonna be the biggest daddy's girl", you laid your head down on his chest, his soothing movements making you sleepy.

"Damn right she is"

You were about to fall asleep when you felt his body tighten underneath you.

"Oh my god, baby, I had the weirdest fan interation today, I need to tell you about it", you could hear the frustration and annoyance in his voice. You laughed at it.

"Tell me all about it"

170 notes · View notes

muntitled · 11 months ago

Note

Req - Something about Shotaro? Oh my god anything, your writing is just so????;!!;?$3

Maybe some smut on the toxic-ish side about how he appeals to be a loving boyfriend to your friends but behind closed doors he’s a lot more intimidating/manipulative, but you’re still just so weak for him (maybe even more so because of it???) and just can’t control yourself around him. Idk, I’m literally clueless but I just know I need that immaculate brain of yours combined with Taro!!!

Much love, and Happy New Year!!!

A/n: I'm not gonna lie... This took a good chunk of my sanity trying to write, I can only hope that you like it. Also happy new yearrr

𝗣𝗶𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁

Osaki Shotaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shotaro is your golden retriever boyfriend... until he isn't

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Best friend!Sohee, Possessiveness, Slight Dark fic, Toxic!Relationship, Manipulation, Smut (+18) Dom!Shotaro, Fingering, Grinding, Choking, Teasing

Your shoulders are as rigid as two metal cinder blocks, keeping your head from rolling off onto the floor. Barbed wires twist with anxiety in the pit of your stomach because you know, despite the sunshine disposition, despite the smile, despite the glassy doe eyes, Shotaro is pissed, and he definitely wants you to know about it.

“I swear on my unborn child,” Sohee, your best friend (your best guy friend) exclaims over a mouthful of ramen, “Yours is the only man I'd ever let cook for me. The rest of the male population can choke.”

While Shotaro basks in Sohee's praises with a modest sunshine smile, you sigh under the pressure of your boyfriend's grip on your thigh as you swiftly say, “You're quite literally a member of said male population-”

Sohee lowers his chopsticks before assuming a vaguely threatening stance with his cheeks round and stuffed. “Begrudgingly,” he says, “Not by choice.” You do not laugh but you try to.

Sohee bounces up and down in his seat, seemingly oblivious to your nervousness and Shotaro's skillfully hidden vexation.

“This is why I needed you two to end up together.” Says Sohee, swinging his head towards you. “My Golden Retriever best friend,” he swings his head towards Shotaro, “And my Golden Retriever coworker-”

“It's getting late, Sohee-” Shotaro's voice is calm and his head is still tilted as he says, “Should I call your uber?” You gulp silently as Shotaro's hand rubs up and down your thigh in a dizzying motion.

“Not very Golden Retriever of you,” Sohee grumbles before slurping down the last of his soup, “But that's okay because you're perfect in everything else-”

“Are you trying to steal my boyfriend, Sohee?” You hope cracking a joke might alleviate some of the one sided tension only you seem to be aware of.

Despite the smile, Shotaro is having a very difficult time remaining patient, especially because he had plans. Before Sohee had hijacked your attention, Shotaro would venture to say that he was actually somewhat happy at the start of the evening… before he found himself sharing your time with your over exuberant best friend.

There was a lively, almost vibrant pep in his step when he got off work, despite the tiredness in his muscles. As Shotaro made his way down the corridor towards your apartment door, his head was bowed with his eyes glued on his phone.

Your whimpers resounded in the clarity of his headphones. He watched you cum around his fingers, absolutely transfixed- so transfixed he almost doesn't recognize movement in his periphery right when he reaches your front door.

Far too swiftly, Shotaro plastered a smile on his face as he paused the video, dropped his phone into his pocket and lowered his headphones before bowing to your elderly next door neighbour.

He muttered a polite “안녕하세요,” in greeting, and the tiny old woman responded just as amicably.

She, as well as every other person in your life is absolutely floored by his politeness.

“What a nice young man,” she said, as she continued her way down the corridor, leaving Shotaro chuckling to himself because the thoughts he was having were certainly kilometres off on what a nice young man should be thinking.

He could not help that he had been thinking about you the whole day. Not even just sexually. (Although he did miss your body terribly. Shotaro was absolutely obsessed with the way it worked: You were always so unmistakably pliant for him. Like clay). Even simply being this close to your space made his heart overblown with satisfaction. Your house had always been somewhat of a safety enclosure for him. His own little piece of peace away from the outside world.

As he inserted the password and turned the knob, Shotaro imagined how you'd be waiting for him after work by the door like you usually did. Swimming in his oversized shirt as you stood with your arms opened wide.

None of those things happened.

Shotaro trudged into your house, sweaty and physically defeated from another day of exerting himself with rigorous routine. The thought of melting into your arms had been the only thing keeping him vaguely upright, when all he wanted to do was collapse on a pile on the floor.

As he proceeded to kick his sneakers off at the door, Shotaro’s brain nearly short circuitrd at the sight of you standing before him… fully dressed.

Not for any reason beside the fact that he had hoped to find you dressed comfortably enough to touch each other while you both cuddled lazily on the couch.

He was not being unreasonable in his expectations.

“Are we supposed to be going somewhere?” Shotaro asked quizzically with his doe eyes widened in cute curiosity. He eyed your halter neck and maxi skirt with much discontent.

“Oh good! You're home! I actually have something to-” Before the words could escape your mouth, he immediately enclosed you in a hug that you drowned in.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured before splaying various sloppy kisses on the side of your face, “Couldn't stop thinking about you the whole day… your face-” A kiss, “Your mouth-” another kiss, “your boobs-”

“Taro, I have to tell you som-”

“God, I hate people!” he exclaimed above you with his arms falling to your hips.

“I shouldn't have to remind you that I count as people.” You jest in vague nervousness.

“When I say I hate people, never ever, do I mean you,” he whispered above you before patting your head down as if you were, less his human girlfriend and more something that went about its life on four legs.

“Do I count as people?”

Your shoulders stiffened and Shotaro's arms grew rigid as his head snapped up to look at your best friend- his co-worker.

Sohee makes his introduction behind you in the same outfit Shotaro saw him in at dance practice and he waved lightly.

Shotaro's shoulders sag infinitesimally but that smile on his face is all too permanent.

Sohee spinned around before mumbling, “Also I'd appreciate it if you two didn't hump each other out in the open for my viewing pleasure.”

Instead of actually feeling compelled to eat you now sit idly at the dinner table, picking and prodding at the ramen Shotaro has prepared for you all.

Your boyfriend's irritation is subtle and you could definitely miss it in the brightness of his overall countenance.

“I mean, it's not that I don't wanna be in a relationship- it's just that, seeing you two has inspired me… I guess you could say?” If it weren't for Shotaro's hand on your thigh you might have actually listened to the countless praises he dotes on Shotaro.

Praises about how good of a man he is. How perfect he is. How absolutely wonderful he must be for being able to put up with you.

All through the dinner, Sohee talks and talks, and you sit with your fingers curled around the end of the table, trying to stop yourself from not reacting to your boyfriend’s minstritations.

It is only when the dinner ends, and Shotaro escorts Sohee to the door, that you finally feel the first real signs of anxiety begin to solidify in your gut.

You're trying your best to load the plates into the dishwasher with a steady hand when you feel a daunting presence behind you. Evading eye contact, you swiftly and succinctly say, “I'm sorry. He had no where else to go-”

“He has a house. Try again.”

You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut at the coldness in his voice.

“He's my best friend, Shotaro,” you say with finality before straightening your spine and turning to face him. You’re both pressed on opposite ends of the kitchen. Both with your arms folded.

“I don't really like your friends.” He says.

“I don't think my friends should be your problem, is what I'm saying.” You clarify. “And anyway, I thought you’d like the fact that Sohee’s my friend.”

Shotaro Scoffs as he says, “I'd like it more if he didn't try to inject himself into our relationship, babe.” Shotaro's voice is incredibly calm, but his words are aimed like an arrow doused in poison, as he closes the distance between you two. Your attention is fixed on him as he lifts his hand to trace small lines on your exposed collar, and you nearly fight the urge to make your eyes flutter shut.

“Not to sound like a tired fucking cliche but, I'm just thinking about what's best for you-” That snaps you out of it.

“What's best for me or what's best for you?!" You exclaim before slapping his hand away.

If only you knew how badly that particular passive-aggressive action affected him. Shotaro crowds you against the counter as he pushes his front up against yours until he's quite literally peering down at you. You refuse to crane your neck back and look up at him.

He was being ridiculous.

“I'm not choosing between you or my friends, Taro-”

“You're so pretty, you know that?” His completey-out-of-left-field comment, especially layered with that sweet-as-honey voice of his, shoots straight to your core, and you grab the counter behind you for support. “And smart too,” he says, before trailing his hand down your arm, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Shotaro’s touch is not only sensual, but its molten fucking lava and it nearly has you melting into a puddle on the floor.

“So I trust you to make your own decisions.” He says, nodding with cute finality before lifting your face up by your chin.

“Taro…” Your heart resorts to frenzy, and your head flies backward when Shotaro drifts his fingers past the seams of your maxi skirt. His are fingers- quite literally making their descent down your underwear while you remain too dumb to do anything but say: “I-I knew Sohee before I knew you.”

He only pushes up against you further, letting his hand grip the side of your neck. “You really think now is a good time to throw that in my face?” He asked with a tilt of his head and his hand now sliding over your cunt.

“You're not wet,” he whispers, “Why aren't you wet?” Before you're ever able able to answer, Shotaro drops to his knees before picking up the ends of your billowing skirt and disappearing underneath the fabric. A torrid gasp escapes your throat when his warm breath skates over your cunt and you're once again throwing your head back in absolute ecstasy.

He pokes his head up from underneath your skirt, cute smile on display while his fingers massage your aching clit. “You're always so wet for me, baby," he says with a childish frown, "What's the matter, huh?” He tilts his head again. “Is it your friend?”

He asks casually, as if his middle finger was not easing its way past your entrance … as if he his fingers were not already drenched in your arousal in less than a minute. “Fuck, Shotaro-”

“Is it because of him?” He continues to ask, now fully moving his fingers in and out of yoy while he remained on his knees- gaze never once wavering. “I'm sorry, bunny,” He says with faux concern, “I didn't know Sohee meant so much to you!”

“F-Fuck Taro-”

At the sound of his name, Shotaro's other hand grips your thigh, only opening your legs wider to split you all the way open against his fingers rough minstriations. He alternates between his middle and index. Sometimes splitting you open with both, until you were thoroughly bucking forward, to the pace that he had set and you were chasing your own orgasm furiously.

“You look like you're gonna cum for me, baby!” He exclaims with big bright eyes and a wide open smile. Equal parts adorable and completely fucking manic.

“Ask me to cum,” he whispers, still looking up at you like you were the best toy he could've ever hope to get. “I control your body. I control every part of you.” He says, “So ask me-”

“Please, Taro!- P-Please can I come?” Your hands have long ago found purchase in his blonde locks and you squeeze your eyes shut, bucking into him at a frenzied pace.

“Look at how pretty you are when you're following orders!” He exclaims as if you truly were a child. “So pretty,” he’s absolutely mesmerising, “My pretty girl gets to cum all over my fingers-”

You've already jumped off the cliff, letting your hips stutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Shotaro's eyes appear almost pained by the sight in front of him. How easily you break for him. Whenever he wanted. You truly were in control of his entire being.

“G-God-” Your failed attempt at talking brings a wave of warmth over Shotaro's countenance, and he finds himself pleasantly satisfied once again. He lifts himself up to his full height.

“what a gorgeous girl,” he whispers before pushing his forehead against yours, “My gorgeous girl,” he murmurs before sliding his fingers - the fingers that were once inside you- past your trembling lips.

#riize #riize fanfic #riize x reader #shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #osaki shotaro #osaki shotaro x reader #osaki shotaro smut #riize smut #riize headcanon #lee sohee x reader #sohee x reader

411 notes · View notes

pretty-blkgirl · 23 days ago

Text

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 29]

- Masterlist -

A/N: Contains a written part. There is a TW for this chapter. Scenes of physical assault are present, it’s also a very heavy chapter in general. Please be mindful and don’t read anything that may upset you!!!

~~~~|~~~~

“This is a cute place,” Your mom remarked when you three stepped into the house. Hyunjin was standing close to you, already a little put off by your mother, considering she asked him what business he had been doing at your apartment less than three minutes prior.

When he explained he was a “friend” of yours, your mom rolled her eyes and told him you couldn’t have possibly had so many friends.

Hyunjin was done with her after that, but you still allowed her in the dorm despite his looks of disapproval.

“Thank you,” You said, “Yumi and Hana decorated it for the most part. They have an eye for-”

“You have no pictures of me and you” Your mom frowned as she looked at the photo wall you and the girls had.

To be fair, there were no pictures of any of you guys’ families. The wall was only meant for pictures of you and the group.

“I have a picture of us in my room” You revealed, “I’ll show it to you”

“I want a picture of us out here though.”

“Let’s go see the picture,” Hyunjin smiled. To your mom, he looked polite, to you, he looked beyond pissed.

You set the food down and took them to your room. After setting your purse down, you pointed in the direction of your bedside table. As you said, there was a picture of you and your mom. It was an older picture, you were maybe one or two years old, but it was a picture nonetheless.

“That’s nice” She mumbled

You took your guests back to the dining room to finally eat lunch. You wanted your mom to leave quickly, you could tell her mood had soured for whatever reason and you didn’t want to deal with that.

As you three ate, she started to get a little antsy, which made you nervous.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine baby” She grinned, but her leg shook violently and she kept looking back towards the hallway.

“You sure?”

“Well” She sighed, “Can I use the restroom?”

“Of course” You nodded, “Do you remember the way to my room? The bathroom is right across from it”

She nodded and stood up, excusing herself and leaving you and Hyunjin alone.

Once he was sure he heard a door close, Hyunjin gave you a look

“I know that’s your mother, and I’d never disrespect her, but… I don’t like her!” He whispered, “I don’t know baby, she just gives off this….vibe. It’s a bad vibe, she seems so spiteful”

You crossed your arms, taking in Hyunjin’s words as you replayed the last couple of days in your mind.

Her whole demeanor just didn’t sit right with you. Either she was too sweet or very passive-aggressive. A few times she swore at you, and you could tell she hadn’t really changed.

At least, she didn’t change enough for you.

“She’s supposed to leave in a couple of days. I think I’m gonna do low contact. I don’t think she grew as a person. It’s like she’s trying to appease me”

You two continued to talk. Five minutes went by. Then ten. Then twenty.

“Why isn’t she out yet?” you asked your boyfriend, who looked just as concerned as you

“Let’s go check on her”

You got up with Hyunjin following close behind. As you walked up to the bathroom, you noticed the door was slightly ajar and the light was off.

You peeked in and didn’t see anyone there.

Then, you noticed your bedroom door was closed. You knew you left it open when you three walked out earlier.

A bad feeling settled in your stomach as you barged into your room.

The first thing you saw was your clothes all over the floor. Your shirts, pants, shorts, and even underwear were scattered everywhere.

Naturally, your drawers were opened, some even fully emptied. Your closet was ransacked and you saw a pile of coats and purses on the floor.

Pieces of paper were crumpled up in a pile, and a dark blue journal was close by, so you immediately knew your diary had been destroyed.

All your posters had been ripped down. All the pictures Hyunjin drew for you were torn apart.

Every love song Han wrote for you that you taped up, destroyed.

Every Polaroid you took with I.N., was destroyed.

The pictures of Soonie, Doognie, and Dori that Lee Know gave to you that featured little words of encouragement on them, were destroyed.

Love poems from Seungmin

Sticky notes with reminders to “keep being cute” or “keep doing well” from Changbin

Origami boats from Felix

And every single flower Chan had ever gotten for you.

He knew you loved roses, and he insisted on getting you real ones even though you couldn’t take care of them.

They were dead and fragile, but you still kept them in a vase just for memory's sake.

Now they lay on the floor. Crushed.

The very last thing you saw was your mother, sitting on your bed, with your wallet in one hand and your debit cards and cash in the other.

“Wow” is all you said

Hyunjin felt your rage build up. The symbol was practically burning a hole through his palm. He knew the other boys could feel it, and they were probably calling and texting you both non-stop.

Your phones were in the other room though, and honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about answering a phone at that moment.

All you felt was pure anger.

All of a sudden you were fifteen years old again, watching your mom demolish your room after she found out you kissed a boy at a school dance.

Then you were twenty, right before you left for Korea, watching her smash every plate, vase, and picture frame she could get her hands on after she learned that you’d be “abandoning her”

You don’t know what set her off this time. You didn’t want to know.

“How could I be so damn stupid?” You wondered aloud, “Why didn’t I tell you to go fuck yourself the moment I found out you showed up at my fucking place of work?”

“Watch your mouth, girl” Your mother snapped, still holding your things in her hands.

“Nah, FUCK THAT. I allowed you to waltz your ass back into my life and this is how you repay me? Wrecking my room? Ruining everything I cherish most?”

You walked further into the room, slowly getting closer to your mother.

Hyunjin knew you were about to do something drastic, so he sprung into action, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to raise it.

Your mom seemingly took this as a challenge. She threw your money and cards down, standing up and getting in your face.

“I read your little diary. I saw all the things you said about me. You think I’m a failure as a mother? You think I don’t give a fuck about you, huh? You called me a narcissistic bitch. I’ll show you a bitch alright”

Her hand raised and she slapped you.

It was so quick, you could barely process what had happened. Hyunjin, though, moved you behind him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He fumed, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again”

“Please move Hyunjin” You trembled, hands visibly shaking as he continued to yell profanities at your mother.

“No! I’m gonna call the fucking police, you think you’re gonna get away with hitting her? Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hyunjin leave the room please”

“Y/n she HIT YOU! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH HER”

“Please leave and call Rose. Tell her I need an NDA and my mom on the next flight back home”

He was about to argue more, but you gave him a look so desperate he wouldn’t dare to talk back. Hyunjin begrudgingly left, but made sure to leave the door wide open just in case he needed to rush back in.

When he was gone, you faced your mother.

You loved her.

You loved her so much.

Despite how much she mistreated and hurt you, all you wanted was for her to love you back.

You needed her approval, you craved her attention. But the moment she had the nerve -the audacity- to hit you, any hope for reconciliation was out the window.

“My manager will be here any second. You are going to sign an NDA because I don’t trust you won’t try to make money off this situation. Once you sign it, you will get the fuck out of my house. Someone will drive you to your Airbnb, you will get your shit, and you will go back home. As soon as you’re out my eyesight I’m getting rid of any and every trace of you. After today, you will not be able to get a hold of me again. And I swear to God, if you ever find yourself thinking you’re gonna try and ruin my life any more than you already have, I’ll get a lawyer and sue your ass so quickly that you won’t even have a pot to piss in by the time I’m through with you.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin walks back in with Rose.

“Y/nnie? What happened? I got here as quick as I could- what happened to your room? Is your face bruised up?”

“Do you have the NDA, Rose?”

“Yes, I mean I have a regular one? What did you want one for specifically?”

“What are the guidelines in that one?”

She quickly skimmed through the papers, “The person who signs it can’t reveal any details about any situation that could harm the artist’s reputation or image in any way, with certain stipulations of course”

“Let’s say my mom destroyed my room, hit, and planned to rob me. If she signed those documents, would she be able to talk about it in exchange for money or even…exposure?”

Rose was quiet for a few seconds, finally understanding the gravity of the situation

“No” She finally said, “Not unless she wanted to get a couple of lawsuits”

“What if she made up a story to try and harm my reputation?”

“That wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, especially if she planned on living a peaceful life”

You wordlessly took the papers and grabbed a pen off your desk, giving both the items to your mom. With a look of disbelief mixed with hatred, she signed the papers and threw them on the floor.

“You were a mistake” She sneered, “I hate you”

You thought your heart would break, you thought you would crumble at her words, but you simply nodded.

“Goodbye Mom”

Rose escorted her out, and you finally started to feel the warm sensation on your cheek.

Your legs were wobbly, and they gave out after a few seconds. Hyunjin was at your side instantly, holding you as you started to sob violently.

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti

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arotheosis · 2 months ago

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It’s all Whirred Up (NSBU Swap AU concept)

Essentially I started thinking about what it might be like if the action heroes were the ones in the real world, and the video world characters were the action heroes. I tried my best to switch things up so it feels different enough, although I’m still a little unsure about some character roles.

Will I ever actually sit down and write this properly? Who knows

In an old strip mall in Lake Elsinore sits one of the last remaining video rental stores in the country: Slater’s Video Superstore.

With the rise of streaming and digital media, however, the store is on its last legs. Its last week in fact, and its employees prepare to close down and find a new road to take in life.

Steven “King” Skin is a Princeton student with a bright future in politics. He’s nearing the end of his gap year, and wondering whether he really wants to go back to school after all. He works on the finances of the video store.

As he almost mindlessly balances the the store’s financial spreadsheets, he watches on one of the video store screens: Liv Skyler, master thief. Her name is whispered amongst criminal circles like a legend, because she can steal without even leaving a single trace behind.

Victor Ethanol is a young man with a dream of pursuing Formula 1 racing, but working several odd jobs to provide for his family. He does occasional maintanance/ plumbing work for the businesses in the strip mall, including the video store, which he visits frequently.

Trying to get him to take a break from working so hard, his brother Shaun asks if he wants to watch a movie. The movie’s protagonist? One Wendell Morris, former biker gang member who has become an informant for several underground organizations. He’s the black sheep of the Morris family, and their falling out is shrouded in mystery.

G13 is a young hacker who got caught attempting to access classified files, and was sentenced to community service. He’s supposed to be cleaning trash around the strip mall, but he mostly stays inside the video store using the crusty old public computer they have, since he’s no longer allowed to use any at home.

While attempting to bypass the many blocks on that ancient desktop computer, he sees a trailer for an old movie. It depicts Usha Rao, more commonly known by both her allies and enemies as Grandmother. She’s the head of a widespread criminal organization, and despite her sweet seeming appearance is someone to be feared. She’s been alive longer than anyone knows, she’s seen everything and knows everything, so if you mess with her family you cannot escape her wrath.

Working over by the more adult section of the store, is Jack Manhattan. After suffering through a grueling divorce with his wife and losing custody of his two children, his life is essentially at a standstill. He is very vocal about how much he prefers not being tied down, and talks about having many partners, but it’s clear that in reality he is not dealing with the separation well and is very lonely.

Unable to even look at the more unsavory content in front of him without thinking about the love he lost, he switches the channel only to see a movie starring crime investigator Paula Donvalson. While many overlook her based on her wild and sporadic personality, the crazy deductions she makes are more often than not entirely on the money, and the FBI begrudgingly hires her for many of their cases.

Jennifer Drips is a woman who does not stay in one place for far too long. Drifting quickly from town to town, she never sets up roots, but leaves a trail of lovers behind her. She is currently staying in a crappy apartment near Lake Elsinore, and working at the video store for some extra cash before she moves on.

On a screen behind her as she’s packing up the store’s inventory, plays a movie led by Russel Feelds, a mechanic developing gadgets for every organization under the sun. A self described lone wolf, he has no loyalty to any side, as long as you can pay his prices.

Greg Stocks is a wealthy man who owns nearly every storefront in the strip mall, except for the video store. He heads in every day attempting to make an offer that Slater will accept, but even as the store is close to shutting down, the video store owner remains stubborn.

Walking by the front of the store he sees, on one of the display TVs, a film about a man known only as Dang. Dang is the world’s deadliest assassin, and his methods are all just as strange as the man himself. After every kill he leaves behind his calling card, the word “rashab”. No one has deciphered its meaning yet.

#never stop blowing up #d20 nsbu #nsbu #dimension 20 #kingskin #liv skyler #vic ethanol #wendell morris #g13 #g13 nsbu #usha rao #jack manhattan #paula donvalson #jennifer drips #russel feeld #greg stocks #andy dang litefoot #dave balt #slater hancock

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hugshughes · 7 months ago

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Liquid Courage J. McCarthy

JJ McCarthy x fem!reader

synopsis - JJ calls you in the middle of the night, inebriated and affectionate. His confessions leave your heart heavy as he sleeps off his drunken haze on your couch. It isn't until the next morning JJ realizes the extent of what he's admitted.

wc - 3.4k

contains - UNEDITED! super cute! alcohol consumption, underage alcohol consumption, JJ gets drunk, eating, hugging. ALL WHILE SOBER: kissing, touching, makin out kinda. reader is insecure about herself (even though she's so cute and pretty), drunk confession, reader gets sad, cursing, i think that's it! oh takes place like october of last year! Rushed ending sorry

an - based on THIS request! LOVEEEEEEDDDDD THIS REQUEST SO MUCH! this was so cute loved it!! #imnotdead :D

You hummed to yourself as you pranced around your kitchen, the banana bread you just put in the oven leaving the aroma of your apartment warm. Your hair was in a braid down your back, your adorable pink striped Victoria's Secret pajamas soft against your skin. Music played from your Alexa, your nighttime playlist floating through the air, one of Olivia Rodrigo's new songs gracing your ears.

The thick socks covering your feet kept them from the cold of the linoleum in your bathroom. You took out your contacts, throwing them out before slipping on your glasses. You grabbed your phone off the counter after exiting the bathroom, seeing a couple Snapchat notifications, some from TikTok, and a few messages from your best friend. All three of her texts had said something along the lines of how you should've come out tonight. The third one said how JJ McCarthy was asking where you were. You sighed, turning your phone back off and checking on your banana bread.

JJ had been your friend since freshman year. He was very sweet and so kind. He was so mature and was one of the most polite people you knew. You'd always thought he was extremely cute, I mean, who didn't think that? He had the cutest smile, and the softest dirty blonde hair. His blue eyes were gorgeous. He'd started his little flirting game with you about halfway through sophomore year. He'd compliment you endlessly whenever you saw him, he'd randomly ask you out in the middle of a conversation. That same smile on his face, bright as ever. You, of course, took it all as a joke, a cruel one at that. You assumed JJ was just a flirty guy with a flirty personality, you'd experienced it before. There was zero chance someone like JJ McCarthy would like you.

"Come on. You guys really think he's being serious when he says that stuff?"

"Yes! We do, because he likes you, and it's so obvious. He doesn't talk to us like that, does he?"

You rolled your eyes. Starting to get pissed with them. Your brain could not compute the idea of JJ really liking you.

"Why in the world would JJ McCarthy, probably the most eligable bachelor on the campus of Michigan, like me? I'm not one of the prettiest girls at Mich, let alone am I the prettiest girl that likes him!"

Sometimes you would wonder that if you thought you were pretty, then maybe you'd believe them. You had bad underlying insecurities that stopped you from believing that any guy would like you, let alone someone like JJ.

You leaned your forehead against your silver fridge, the cool of the metal relaxing you. You could hear its low whirring and humming with your proximity to it. The sound occupying your brain as a white noise, leading you to close your eyes. You might've actually fallen asleep if the timer for your bread didn't go off, you scrambling to shout at your Alexa to, 'Please, stop!' You grabbed oven mitts and grabbed the tray after sticking a toothpick into it to check the middle. You set the pan down on your cooling rack, sliding your gloves off. You grabbed your phone and paused your music, going to sit on the couch while your bread cooled.

You stalked your friends Snapchat stories, they were all having fun at the big party everyone seemed to be attending. You halted when you saw your best friend's private story, you knew it only had a handful of people so she posted silly and random things on it.

What she'd posted was a zoomed in photo of what resembled JJ McCarthy with his head thrown back against the couch of whatever frat house they were in. His face looked miserable, and the caption on the photo was saying how that's how she too reacted when you didn't come to parties. You immediately slid up, typing in all caps telling her to shut up. You said how he was not upset over you, and how she was stupid and drunk. It was all lighthearted, you both knew it.

She immediately typed back to you, claiming he'd drunkenly asked her at least four times where you were and why you didn't want to come see him. You giggled to yourself, believing it for just a few moments. You typed to her for a few more minutes before your phone started vibrating in your hand, JJ's contact coming onto your screen. You were met with the photo you'd had him saved with, him smiling that bright beautiful smile across the table from you at Panera sometime during last school year. What was JJ calling you for? You slid to answer, holding your phone to your ear. It was oddly quiet on his end, though he was actively attending a party. He called your name, and you called his.

"JJ? What's up? Are you alright?"

"Hi! Oh my gosh, hi. I can't believe you aren't here right now, I was only excited to see you."

You smiled sadly, he was endearing, and so totally plastered.

"Aw, JJ, I'm sorry. Where are you? It's pretty quiet for a party."

"Oh, yeah. I'm just in the bathroom, standin' around. I got bored. Ya' know, I miss you."

He was so drunk, his words were melting together, but his happiness stayed solid throughout.

"Jay, are you alright? Do you need someone to help you leave? Is Blake there? Colston?"

"You should, we can hang out! But yeah, he's 'round here somewhere. Lemme go get 'im."

You said okay, letting the boy look for his friend. The noise on his end got louder as he left the bathroom. You giggled when you heard him shout hey at random people around the house. You heard JJ call your name into his phone, then again.

"JJ, I'm still here. Any luck finding Colston?"

"Why don't you jus' go marry Colston if he's all 'yer gonna talk about"

You barely heard it, he muttered it with the phone a few inches from his mouth. You were shocked at the words JJ said. What?

"What, JJ?"

"Wish y'were talkin' about me."

You smiled, still a bit confused. His drunk mind was extremely silly.

"I'm talking to you, aren't I? The only boy's call I'd pick up this late."

JJ was ecstatic, smiling brightly as he continued through the party, looking for his teammates.

"I see him! Colston! Come here buddy, she wants to talk to you."

You heard a confused colston mutter 'Who's she?' before he took the phone from JJ, seeing your contact before talking to you.

"Oh hey, what's up?"

"JJ is like, absolutely plastered if you couldn't tell. Are you all good? I asked him and he told me he wanted me to pick him up. If I come get him can you bring him to my car? I'm already in my pajamas."

"Yeah, think Jay'll definitely love that. Kid hasn't stopped asking about you since we got here. I'll have him outside whenever 'ya get here."

You responded with an affirmative, thanking Colston. He handed the phone back to JJ, who was very happy to hear your voice again.

"Hey! What's up? Colston said you're coming to get me."

"Yeah, I'll see you in a couple minutes, okay Jay?"

"Awesome."

He hung up and you giggled. How did you go from an innocent call with the boy to asking him if he needed to be picked up? You shook your head at yourself, standing and grabbing your keychain.

You left your apartment and drove to the house you knew the party was at. Your friends had told you which house it was in case you changed your mind and came. It was less than ten minutes before you were in front of the bustling house, seeing two boys standing on the sidewalk.

You rolled down the window as they walked over, shouting hey to them. JJ was visibly drunk, stumbling just a little as he leaned into your car, a big smile on his face.

"Hi, pretty."

"Hi, JJ."

Colston helped his teammate into the car, making sure you were good to take care of the boy.

"Yeah, we'll be fine, Colst. I'll let 'im have my couch for tonight. I'll text you if I need anything!"

He nodded, lightly slapping the side of your car twice before retreating to the house. You turned your music back on, leaving it at a low volume as you turned around to drive home. You glanced at JJ and noticed the biggest pout on his face.

"JJ McCarthy. I know I didn't just drive over here to get you just for you to be pouting when you get in my car."

"Just text Colston about it, why don't you?"

You busted out giggling. Drunk JJ was such a treat. His jealousy over your friendship with his teammate was incredibly hilarious.

"I might if you don't start bein' nice t'me."

"Sorry 'm being mean."

He barely murmured it, though it was all you needed. You smiled brightly at him, laughing to yourself. JJ never got drunk, he usually opted for just a drink or two, or being the designated driver.

You got home quickly, making small talk with the now sleepy boy. You parked in your spot, hopping out of the car and walking around the hood to help JJ out. He'd stayed at yours after a party once or twice before, but it had always been with a couple other people. Tonight it was just you two.

You walked in, stepping into the elevator right behind JJ. The two of you stepped out of the elevator as the machine dinged and the doors slid open. JJ grabbed your hand as you walked down the hall to your door. You glanced at him, softly smiling. His eyes were barely open, but he still had a smile on his face. You didn't take the action as anything serious, JJ was a physical touch kind of person. He was always hugging people, patting shoulders, bumping fists. He was extra physical with you though, not that you noticed. You were the only girl he ever really acted like that with, again, not to your acknowledgment.

You wouldn't let yourself believe he liked you. Convinced it would hurt too much when eventually he got a prettier, skinnier, bubblier, more likable girlfriend and left you in the dust. JJ had eyes solely for you, though. He only ever looked at you. He asked anyone and everyone if they knew where you were or if you were coming to the party for God's sake.

You closed the door behind JJ and locked it, telling him to make himself at home. He took his shoes off, trying to neatly organize them in your shoe cubby. He wandered over to the couch as you kicked your shoes off and entered your kitchen. You grabbed a cold water bottle, two Ibuprofen tablets and two Tylenol tablets, the perfect hangover cure. You noticed your still warm banana bread sitting on the counter, perking up.

"Jay, do you want some banana bread?"

You heard his footsteps then saw him come around the corner, his eyebrows raised.

"Hell yes."

You giggled, gesturing for him to come stand by you. You flipped the pan over onto the cooling rack, opening the drawer directly in front of you, pulling out a bread knife. You felt a head slip into the crook of your neck, warm breath on your neck. Heat rushed your face, JJ's contagious smile spreading to you.

"Hi, crazy."

You pointed to the water and pills on the counter as you swerved out of his reach, going to grab a cutting board and a plate.

"Take those and your head won't hurt in the morning. Well, I don't know how much you drank, but that'll definitely make it better."

He nodded, immediately following your directions. He gulped down half of the water bottle while you came back over, laying the loaf of bread on the cutting board. You cut a couple pieces off, setting one onto the plate before sliding it over to JJ. He smiled at you, beginning to devour his snack. Hopefully it would absorb some of the alcohol in his stomach.

"You're amazing, you know."

He said it in a way that made it seem like he meant it on a deeper level than you'd usually assume. He said it like he truly did believe that, and it wasn't just because you fed him warm banana bread. You shook your head, brushing it off as you tore of pieces from your slice.

"No, don't shake your head a'me. You are. You act like you're not but y'are."

He was too good at making you feel special. You were just too scared to believe any of it.

"I just like to take care of people I like."

You smiled innocently at him, shrugging your shoulders as you moved to grab a proper storage container for your bread.

"And I just like when the girl I like believes me when I tell her she's amazing."

You froze in your spot. Sure, JJ had flirted with you for about a year. But, he'd never downright told you he liked you. He's drunk out of his mind. You sighed when you turned around, trying to smile at the boy as you stared into his sleepy eyes.

"You're so sleepy, JJ, and drunk."

He nodded a little, his eyes never leaving yours, that smile never leaving his face. He didn't really notice that you'd downplayed his feelings, he'd noticed even less that he'd straight up told you you were the girl he liked. All he could really notice was how beautiful you looked in the dim light of your kitchen, in your cute pajamas and glasses, hair in a messy braid.

You set JJ up on your couch, getting him another water and some thick and soft blankets and a pillow. You ran your hand through his messy hair as he laid in the couch beneath you. His eyes were begging to close, but he still smiled at you. You quietly told him to go to sleep, turning to leave. You'd only made it to the light switch before he called your name.

"I really do like you, 'm not just drunk. Just get too nervous to tell you, 'm sorry."

Your heart was heavy. You wanted to believe him, but how could you? JJ had never shown what you deemed as genuine interest in you when he wasn't inebriated. All he did was toss flirty comments around, throwing his arm over your shoulder every once in a while.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't notice the different look in JJ's eyes as he peered over the back of your couch. The truth in them.

"If you even remember this in the morning, we can talk about it. Alright?"

"That's perfect."

He smiled at you one last time before sinking below the back of your couch, out of sight.

"Goodnight Jay."

"Night night, pretty."

His words made your heart squeeze. You knew that the affection you felt for JJ wouldn't change, no matter if they were just drunk fibs.

You switched the living room lights off, heading into the kitchen. You set out another water and more pills for whenever JJ woke up in the morning. You checked the locked once more before turning all of the lights off. All you heard as you headed back to your bedroom was JJ's heavy breathing, it calmed your racing heart. You left your door cracked open incase JJ woke up needing something.

Your glasses slid up your head as your rubbed your eyes, sighing. You kept reminding your heart that JJ didn't really know what he was saying, that he would regret it.

The bed you slept countless nights in was uncomfortable as ever tonight, you tossed and turned for most of an over before climbing out of bed. You threw your cute pajamas onto the hardwood floor and traded them for a Lululemon bra and some shorts.

You fell asleep after another forty minutes of shifting every minute or so. Your sleep was light and poor. You woke up a little after four am, just three hours after finally falling asleep. Sleep finally took you again for a couple more hours, just until a little after nine.

After lying and staring at your ceiling for half an hour, you slowly sat up in bed, getting up. You exited your room, dragging yourself to the living room. The couch was empty, the blanket JJ had used folded neatly on top of the pillow. How sweet was he? You turned and walked into the kitchen, finally spotting the dirty blonde boy you wanted to see.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, smiling. He was holding a water bottle, his eyes tired and his hair still messy.

"Good morning, JJ."

"Hi."

You felt nerves wash over you. This was it, where he either apologizes and regrets everything he said last night, or you got everything you'd hoped for. You went over to where he was leaning against your counter, hopping up to sit on the counter by him. His head fell to your shoulder as if by reflex.

"How do you feel, Jay?"

"Good, better 'cause y'took care of me."

"I just gave you some meds, Jay."

"Still."

You smiled, leaning your head on his. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe he would be in love with you. You took a deep breath, now or never.

"Jay, do you-"

"Yes."

You pulled your head from his, turning to give him a look.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say."

"I remember what I said."

You bit your lip, still nervous. You look to where your feet dangled in the air, suddenly scared of his gaze on you.

JJ was nervous as hell too, though. You hadn't said that you liked him back, he definitely remembered that. He was beginning to take your silence as disinterest. He just stared at you, waiting for some indication of how you felt.

"And?"

"'And?' And, I like you."

Your nerves escaped from your body in a giggle, the churning of your stomach now butterflies. JJ did not appreciate the laughter though, taking it the complete wrong way.

"You don't have to laugh at me, shit."

He reached his hands to his eyes, rubbing hard as he started off, away from you. You giggled again, realizing your mistake. You jumped from the counter, sighing JJ's name out.

"Wait, wait Jay, I'm sorry. It's not like that."

You grabbed his arm, trying to halt the taller and stronger boy wasn't easy without his compliance. You shouted his name again and he stopped, turning to you.

"I'm not laughing 'cause you like me. I'm laughing 'cause I barely slept last night worried that you wouldn't like me."

JJ finally looked at you. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"What's do you mean? I literally told you I liked you!"

"JJ! You were so drunk! I wasn't about to convince myself that JJ McCarthy liked me just 'cause he said so while he was plastered."

"I wasn't plastered! And, what do you mean when y'say it like that?"

You rolled your eyes, halfway annoyed. He didn't get it.

"JJ, you could probably get with any girl on the Michigan campus if you wanted to. I wasn't convinced that out of all of them you'd actually want me."

"How could I not like you?"

The truth in JJ's eyes made you feel seen. Like he actually knew you. You smiled sappily, pulling the boy down by his shoulder, kissing him deeply. One of JJ's hands gripped the back of your head, the other pulling you closer by the small of your back.

There you were, standing in your kitchen kissing the boy you could've sworn never liked you. The boy you'd been infatuated with for a year. He was finally yours.

JJ pulled away from your lips, his hands moving to cup your face. His smile was brighter than ever. You both laughed, looking into each other's eyes for just a few seconds before JJ pulled you back in.

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