#but something about get back and seeing her and her mannerisms and how she moves in hd really is significant for her specifically

[formulafanfics13]

Down, Boy - OP81🔥

Masterlist

summary: Behind closed doors, Oscar Piastri is yours. Submissive. Controlled. Desperate to please. He plays the part of the quiet good boy so well — until that defiant streak shows. And when it does? You make sure he remembers exactly where he belongs.

warnings: dom!reader, sub!Oscar, power dynamics, degradation, praise kink, blowjob (m receiving), face-fucking (light), orgasm control, begging, light slapping, rough sex, tears, obedience kink, possessiveness, pet names (good boy), lingerie, control play, semi-public defiance reference (motorhome), D/s dynamic, explicit language

He's always quiet at first. Always still. It's like the second the door closes behind them, some invisible leash tightens. One second he's Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver, all poise and clipped manners and dry wit, and the next, he's just her boy. Folding in on himself with that calm, perfect obedience like he doesn't even know how to be anything else. He slips his hands behind his back without needing to be told. He watches her face, not her body. Waits. Listens.

He's so well trained it almost pisses her off. Because underneath all that control is the part he tries to hide — the twitch of defiance, the occasional sharp tongue, the split-second arrogance he shows when he thinks she won't notice. And when he shows it? When he forgets himself? That's when he's at his best. That's when he breaks.

"You're awfully quiet," she says, toeing off her heels. Her voice cuts clean through the quiet suite, smooth and low and cruel. "Don't tell me Monaco's worn you out already."

He breathes in. Doesn't move.

"I could've sworn you were full of opinions in the paddock," she continues, unzipping her dress and letting it slide down her hips, careless and slow. "What was it you said in the motorhome earlier? Something about me needing to behave myself?"

Oscar's ears turn red instantly.

"You forget your place?" she asks, crossing the floor in nothing but lingerie and lipstick, dragging a manicured nail across the sharp line of his jaw. "Or are you just stupid?"

His breath stutters. Still standing there, arms locked behind his back like a fucking soldier. Like he knows better than to move until she lets him. But his pupils are blown. His throat bobs with every swallow. His cock is already hard behind the tight fabric of his McLaren kit.

She tilts her head. Watches him squirm. "Well?"

"I forgot," he admits hoarsely.

She smirks. "That's a shame."

And then she moves. Hand in his curls, dragging him down to his knees like he's nothing, like he exists only for this, to obey, to please, to ache. He goes without a word. Palms braced on his thighs, lashes low, body tense and waiting.

"You look good down there," she murmurs, circling him. "Right where you belong."

He nods once, jaw tight.

But she doesn't touch him. Not yet. She lets the silence grow sharp and uncomfortable, lets it crawl up the back of his spine and sink into his bones. Her hand slides slowly down his neck, toying with the collar of his team shirt, her nails scraping lightly against his chest.

"I think you've gotten a little too comfortable lately," she murmurs, crouching in front of him. "You think just because you're quick on track, you get to mouth off to me?"

His eyes dart up. "I didn't mean—"

"You did." Her voice is soft but cold. "And now you're going to make it up to me, aren't you?"

He nods, fast. "Yes."

"Say it."

"I'm going to make it up to you," he breathes, eyes flickering between her mouth and her thighs. "Please let me."

She smiles, indulgent, dangerous, in control. "Take it out."

He fumbles for a second, always a little shaky when she lets him use his hands. But he gets there. Cock flushed, leaking, hard like he's been waiting all day for this. She doesn't even need to touch him to see how desperate he is. How ruined.

She reaches out and wipes the pre-cum off the head with her thumb, then slips it into her mouth. Watches his throat work as he moans, quiet and broken.

"Oh, baby. You're so fucking easy for me."

His eyes flutter shut.

"Put your hands behind your back," she snaps.

He obeys instantly, shoulders rolling back, cock twitching against his thigh.

She leans in close. "You're going to sit still. You're going to watch me. And you're going to thank me for every single second."

He nods. "Yes. Please."

She starts slow. Licking down his shaft, teasing him with the flat of her tongue, just enough pressure to make him shake but not enough to satisfy. His hands are clenched behind him, knuckles white, chest rising fast.

She wraps her lips around the head and sucks. Hard. And he fucking whimpers.

It's pathetic, how easily he melts. How good he is at staying still even when his whole body's trembling, thighs tensed, cock twitching. He's flushed all the way down his chest. When she pulls off with a wet pop and slaps the head of his cock lightly against her tongue, he moans, soft and strained and wrecked.

"Poor thing," she says sweetly, looking up at him through her lashes. "You're holding back."

"I—I can take it."

"Mm. You always say that."

She takes him in deeper this time. Lets her spit drip down his shaft as she fucks him with her mouth, unrelenting, throat hot and tight around him. His breathing is ragged now, his whole body trembling. But he doesn't move. Doesn't thrust. Doesn't come.

Not until she says.

She pulls off again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Take your shirt off. Now."

Oscar scrambles to obey, still kneeling. His chest is smooth, lean, flushed pink. His stomach twitches when she touches it.

"Get on the bed."

He moves instantly, like a dog called to heel. Lies back against the pillows with his legs spread and his hands at his sides, blinking up at her with glassy eyes and red cheeks.

She climbs on top, straddling his hips. Runs her nails down his chest, just hard enough to leave little lines. "You wanna come?"

"Yes," he chokes.

"Beg."

"Please. Please let me come, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—"

She sinks down onto him mid-sentence, cutting him off with a strangled cry.

"Oh, fuck—"

He's so deep, so fucking hard, her name on his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once. His hands twitch, but he doesn’t touch her. He knows better.

She rides him slow. Cruel. Keeps her hands on his chest, nails digging in every time he moans. And he moans a lot. Every thrust draws something new out of him — a gasp, a whimper, a strangled apology for whatever he did wrong.

He's close. She can feel it. His hips twitching up, cock pulsing, mouth slack.

"You're not allowed yet," she says sharply.

"I—I knowplease—"

She slaps his chest lightly. Not hard. Just enough to make him gasp.

"Do. Not. Come."

He nods frantically, eyes screwed shut. "Please don't stop."

But she does. Stops completely, just as he's on the edge. Pulls off and watches his cock twitch helplessly in the open air, wet and flushed and throbbing.

He looks like he might cry.

"Why did I stop?" she asks.

"Because I don't deserve it," he breathes.

"And why don't you?"

"Because I was disrespectful. Because I forgot my place."

She leans in, mouth at his ear. "And where’s your place?"

"Under you."

"Good boy."

She lets him come eventually. Makes him beg for it first. Makes him say please, please, I'm yours, I’ll do anything, until he’s barely coherent, until the only thing left of him is obedience. And when she finally fucks him hard enough to send him over the edge, he comes with a sob, back arched, hands clenched in the sheets.

She watches him the whole time. Drinks it in. The flushed skin, the tears in his lashes, the way he gasps her name like it’s salvation.

And when he’s done? When he’s ruined and still twitching and dazed?

She leans over him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Good boy."

[dabilover7]

How did we get here Chapter 1

‘Thoughts’

“Talking”

[Texting] [“Phone Call”]

Making Friends

I smiled at Zoey. “Thank you, you’re adorable to!”. ‘Awkward loser, I hate myself.’ I scolded myself. Zoey squealed again hugging me. Mira looked me up and down but not in a rude manner. I gave her a soft smile and she gave me a small smile in return ‘Yes Progress, go me go me!’ I internally cheered. “Oh right! Introductions! I’m Zoey. *Zoey smiled moving back to give me some space.* I’m Rumi, it’s nice to meet you Y/n. *Rumi smiled. ‘So hot, GET IT TOGETHER Y/N’. *I smiled back. Mira smiled ‘I thought she was going to take the longest to befriend?’ *I smiled back, something started to form at the base of my chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, in fact it felt warm, and gentle. ‘What the hell?’. I questioned internally, when I noticed the more glazed look in the girls eyes. They quickly snapped out of it looking at me with warm eyes. ‘Well that was quick.’ I thought. ‘If only all friendships were this quick.’ I was pulled out of my thoughts by Bobby. “Let’s start with the ‘How it’s done’ Choreography and see where we can add Y/n in the music.” The girls got in position and I watched them dance.

—————————Time Skip—————————

After a few hours of practice I was able to nail down the choreography and joined in the dance. My movements were flowy and smooth. Bobby clapped as we finished the Choreography. “Wonderful girls, absolutely perfect!” The girls smiled at me, giving me some pats on the back. “You did so well Y/n!” Rumi stated. “Thank you, not as good as ya’ll.” Zoey and Mira were quick with “Oh na uh, you did so good.” Zoey spoke her voice full of encouragement. “Not to mention you just got here, learned the choreography in just a few hours.” Mira added her tone impressed. “Well when you put it like that.” I laughed softly. “You already seem so fun Y/n” Zoey smiled. “Just wait till I get super comfortable, absolute chaos”. The girls laughed at that. Zoey gasped grabbing Mira and Rumi by the arms. “Welcoming sleepover!” She should. I tilted my head to the side in a confused expression making the girls blush a little. ‘SO CUTEEEEEEEE’ They internally yelled. Rumi was the first to speak. “A welcoming Sleepover is when we all watch movies-“ Zoey cut in “Eat lots of snacks!” “ in comfy pj’s” Mira added before Rumi finished “And we talk about our day or in this case about ourselves.” I immediately brightened up, at the sound of a welcoming sleepover as they called it. “That sounds so fun!”

I can’t believe how much love this is getting, so here’s the first official chapter yes it will get smutty ;) Drink water and eat a snack! <3

Taglist!

@bunnytea10, @brithedemonspawn

@sakuratreesareverypretty

[fotibrit]

fantastic question @kissingtonystarksforehead allow me to elaborate

Tony didn’t realize why he sometimes had a hard time believing that his mom really loved him. She seemed… too easy to convince. He knew he had to prove himself to everyone else. the fact that she kinda just… loved him no matter what… it made him think that maybe she didn’t really know him. She didn’t see all the bad parts that everyone else has to get over.

After his mom died, he started seeing the pattern. Only his fans liked him without having to be convinced, and he didn’t want fans. He hadn’t *earned* their love. it only counted if someone liked him begrudgingly.

Moving in with rhodey for school, he liked rhodey immediately. Rhodey didn’t much like him. He was a kid, and one that came with a lot of security and hassle. Rhodey immediately wasn’t a fan, which made those moments where rhodey cracked a grin at his joke or offered a snack all the more meaningful. Obviously, his kindness wasn’t pandering. Why would he pander to someone he doesn’t like?

Rhodey told him a few years later. “i really didn’t like you at first.” He said it like a joke but with the hesitation of testing the waters, and tony laughed. “I know. Yet here you are, still here.” Rhodey laughed and faked annoyance. “I’ll be by your side forever, you dick.” and it’s a win. Because rhodey KNOWS that tony deserves to be disliked, and yet still likes him. The part of tony that knows he’s a piece of shit and the part of him that craves to be loved can live together happily.

Pepper was another thing entirely. Usually, Tony can see the moments where someone goes from disliking him to liking him. He prides himself in each. But not with pepper. Her manner of liking him seemed to be expressed through disliking him. Sarcastic quips and calling him out on his bullshit were her specialties with him, and she never went easy on him about the times he fucked up. Maybe that’s why he fell for her. She likes him through dislike. It’s the mirror of how he hates himself through his ego.

Peter was the one that made him realize that, maybe, just maybe, his mom really did love him. Maybe she did know him, and could love him anyways. Because every time the kid did something dumb and the howard-sounding voice in his head told him to pull away, tony couldn’t get himself to. Because even when he tried to act like he didn’t like the kid, he couldn’t help the fondness. He couldn’t help but care about him regardless. Maybe that’s how maria felt. It’s a shock to his system that forces him to take a step back and reassess. Could be break this cycle?

Steve was probably the worst of it. Steve so clearly wanted to dislike tony. Tony helped him along the way. He was an absolute dick to steve, pushing his buttons intentionally, trying to get under his skin. And steve wanted to dislike tony for it… but couldn’t. He liked him. Steve liked tony, no matter how hard tony tried. He acted like he didn’t, often. Tony knew that steve knew all the bad parts of him, all the stuff he hated about himself that he put on display so that others would agree with him.

Steve never agreed with him. He saw all the proof that tony was an awful person, and he still liked him. Not begrudgingly. Devotedly.

Steve finally asked, once everything settled between them. “why did you like me?” And tony runs through his joke answers, the proof that he’s shallow, the proof that he’s a piece of shit. “for your wide shoulders” “it helps my reputation” “who wouldn’t wanna hit that ass” “I don’t, this is all just a social experiment.” and tony lists off his awful reasons and steve waits patiently. Laughing along. Seeing straight through tony’s attempt to frame this delicate private thing - his love for steve - as something brash and gross.

and finally, once he’s run out of bad reasons and steve is still there, smiling at him… he asks. “you don’t believe any of that, do you?” and steve, “you could get any of that from someone else. why me?”

and tony smiles nervously and has to admit. “because… you’re the only one who i hope sees through all that. and the only one who i think has from the start. and you’re the best of all of us, rogers.”

tony who can only fall in love with people who hated him first because it’s the only way he can trust that they do actually really know him

[writerfish]

tags; [ @cloudstongue , @zeeposting ]

-----

The house stood at the edge of the cliff, as early summer winds slithered through the cracks of the open windows, the fresh, salty smell from the sea something you learn to grow accustomed to the longer you stay in the village.

It was an old house, but it was certainly treated with love. The wooden floors creaked, but never once broke in. The windows made a slight rattle when the wind was heavy, but the glass was crystal clear, reflecting the deep hues of the sea.

From the upstairs window in the bedroom, you could see where the waves crashed against the rocks, the sight of ships passing by occasionally able to be seen like it was nothing, smaller children running across the sand without a care in the world.

He'd rub his eyes, desperate for a warm soak in the bath.

It wasn't long, but it was a bath much needed after the long walk here – when he'd gotten dressed, he glanced around and looked at the empty bed beside his. Quill had seemed to have already left.

The walk to the village was short, the path winding between other homes and the small forts made out of sticks by the local children. He stepped onto the main path, and at that moment, he felt it.

He felt the warm, comforting feeling of the sun wrapping its arms around him in a welcoming manner, the sweet smell of bread filling up his nostrils with such ease – he'd smile at the thought of fresh bread for breakfast, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up a little bit more than he currently was – a small yawn slipping past his lips.

Loud barking could be heard in the distance as he made his way to the bakery, a large shepherd dog excitedly jumping up at the man, attempting to lick at his face – which he allowed with a smile, beginning to laugh at the gesture.

“Hey there, Eris,” His hand reached out to pet her fur, moving up and down as she moved around. She'd soon begin to circle him eagerly, panting with what he could only see as pure joy.

Footsteps would soon turn from quiet to very loud, and Scroll would look up for a moment to see who it was that decided to approach – though, by the dog, he should've been fully aware from just that alone.

“Good morning,” he began, “you took your time.” Quill’s expression wasn't any different to what it usually was – Scroll learned that very quickly – along with how flat his tone could sound despite whatever situation they were in.

“I did?” He furrowed his brow at the thought. Maybe it was just because Quill had woken up earlier than he had, but he didn't think he'd taken long to have a wash and get dressed, did he?

Then again, when he really thought about it..

He had been fooling around with the various things that Quill had in his bathroom, despite being told the night before to not touch anything that seemed worth of value – or he'd really be in for it. Scroll pursed his lips at the memory of this morning, but he chose to keep quiet about that until later.

“You did.”

“Sorry. Just not used to a new village, is all,” Scroll would awkwardly shrug his shoulders at the other, who didn't reply to what he'd said – turning on his heel to walk towards the forest opening, Eris following behind.

I suppose that means no breakfast, then?

He frowned at the idea.

They'd only made the temporary stop at the village because it was the closest place on their journey – unfortunately for Scroll, he thought they'd be staying longer. But he should've known Quill's thinking process by now: straightforward and quick. He didn't like to waste time gallivanting when he knew there were more important things that needed to be dealt with, especially when he had Eris.

For now, he kept his peace. Though the forest is filled with overgrown greenery and pathways that seemed to never end, he doesn't feel any different to how he would back at home. Something about the familiar site of trees towering over the three of them made him feel safe, reminding him vaguely of where he would camp out. He wondered if there were any open areas, where a campfire could be lit for warmth – Scroll figured there's not much point in wondering about something that had yet to happen on their trip.

He carried a book that he'd taken from the old market a few days before in his hands, and skimmed through the first few pages. Old tales for children were plastered onto the pages, pictures scribbled on the right-hand corner of them all – he found the drawings to be inaccurate and absurd, rolling his eyes at the watered-down re-telling of each tale. It just seemed unfair to leave out all the important details of each story, and leave the younger folk with the little bits and scraps.

But, what did he know? He wasn't the one writing these, after all.

His relationship with books was somewhat strained nowadays. His childhood was filled with him constantly attempting to read as many books as possible to satisfy his parents, despite his peers finding it somewhat odd, or rather, they found the idea of being around someone like him odd.

Quill turned his head, staring at him in silence – his arms were crossed over his chest, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Intimidation was what usually rested in his gaze, but for now, it was something different–something harder to decipher when it came to him.

He turned his head back around, facing forwards. What Scroll was doing wasn't any of his concern, and he told himself that constantly, unless he was getting into trouble. Then, it became his business.

---

im not going to finish this i think i don't know

[casuallyanidiot]

Got a fair few asks about Danny (aka Yandere Farmboy) and what he'd be like in marriage, with kids and the In-Laws etc. So here are a few HCs about that !

Tw. BabyTrapping, Yandere, Power Imbalance, Forced Marriage, Implied Noncon, Slut shaming, implied abortion, implied homophobia/transphobia at the end, Fem! AFAB! Reader

The Marriage

I've gone into some detail about how Danny would treat you once he got his hands on you in another ask. He likes getting you all dressed up and proper, and he never wants to see you with dirt smeared across your face ever again.

Danny would want to wait until you were pretty far into your pregnancy to actually marry you. Hell, he might even wait until you actually have his baby. You'd asked him to just get it over with right after he got your parent's permission to take you away from the farm and into his home, but he wanted everyone to see what you had become.

You aren't just some rat scurrying around town anymore. No, you're his. And now there's no way you can deny it. Because if you do, you risk being shunned by everyone.

"That poor Petusky kid... getting stuck with that whore."

"She's lucky he even keeps her around. If it were me, I would've run her off a long time ago."

Danny had you moved into his family home soon after the events of the first fic. He likes sitting there, rubbing your growing belly and murmuring words of comfort. He forces you to recline in a plush, padded rocking chair he made with his father just for you.

"This is the happiest I've ever been," he praised as he pressed kisses to your skin. He smiled at the way you flinched, and he cooed softly. "The wedding venue is booked. Plus I've got the bakery prepping a cake. A big one too, with your favorite flavors," He said. You don't remember telling him what they were. "We just gotta wait until this little one arrives. Getting married will be the best thing that's ever happened to you, I swear. Weddings are just... stressful. Don't want anything hurting the baby now, do we?"

Of course he doesn't let you work. You're his precious wife, after all. Plus he seethes at the thought of failing you, of letting you slip from his fingers and back into a life where he can't control your happily ever after. You'll have no financial freedom, that's for certain.

He's eerily attuned to your wants and needs. he's spent years observing you, your interests. The way your eyes would trail longingly on the other women in town with their nicer clothes, the way in school that you tried and tried to keep up with other academically. You wanted a better life. He had that. He could give you that.

He adores you, he really does. He'd buy you old Bronte sister novels and sit there with you when you'd struggle to read them. He comes back to you every day, no matter how sweaty and caked in mud he might be, pressing flowers into your hands.

Maybe if he'd been less of a creep, less desperate to possess you entirely, then perhaps he could've been the love of your life.

The In-Laws

Danny's parents, like mentioned in the original fic, are pretty much the wealthiest people in town if not the entire area. They own several cattle ranches and acres upon acres of land that's perfect for tilling. Really they're the exact opposite of your family.

They aren't unkind per se, but you could definitely feel them judging you whenever you had spoken to them in the past. They'd smile at you in an overly friendly manner that felt empty as it looked nice. Just typical southern politeness wrapped in a shiny veneer.

That being said, when Danny came to them one day, dragging your shaking form in front of them, they knew something was up. There's no reason a girl like you should seem so upset that their precious baby boy was promising her the moon and stars. When he goes on to explain " She's gonna have my baby. I know you should wait until marriage and all, but we got to excited and well..."

A shotgun marriage with the town tramp. Not exactly ideal for a sterling reputation, but they could work with this. Most of the town would probably judge you no matter what, but Danny's parents subtly nudge people to think of you like some gold digger.

They can sense that Danny did something to you. You flinch sometimes when you think no one is looking, and his mother has caught you crying alone in some random room in their big house a couple times. Unfortunately, though, you're far less important to them than their son. If he wanted you that badly, he can have you. They're just gonna make sure everything stays under wraps.

Danny's father doesn't really care for you one way or another. He doesn't really get what his kid sees in you, but then again, he can kind of see why the boy grew up to be so damn possessive. He had traditional values pummeled into him from a young age, and what's more traditional than marrying your high school sweetheart and providing for her and your family? Once you get cleaned up a bit and start living with them more often, he quietly accepts you as part of the family. He likes whittling toys for your new arrival when he's not working or with his wife, and he finds you to be a pleasant addition. Overall, he'll keep his mouth shut on what Danny did for the sake of everyone in the family and for his own peace.

Danny's mother on the other hand is quite involved when it comes to you. Your her daughter in-law! Ain't that something? It's kind of clear that she doesn't like you from the beginning, but she can't get rid of you and sweep you under the rug in the way she'd like. If it was up to her, you'd be headed for some backwater clinic before being shipped off to the big city, never to be seen again. But Danny loves you, and she can't exactly stop him without risking putting him in jail or having their reputation ruined. So, you stay, much to her resentment.

Second to Danny, she spends the most time with you. She's a housewife as well, so she helps you learn how to take care of a proper household for once. Your manners and demeanor are awful in her opinion. You're too skittish and sad looking! So what if you've been forced to marry your stalker? Don't you know how many other girls would've killed for this, young lady? Just like her husband, though, she becomes more fond of you over time. Once you're settled in and start meekly accepting her offers to bake, clean, and do general busy work with her, she starts actually seeing you not as her son's property, but as her daughter. She had all boys after all, so it's nice to have another girl in the house. She keeps tabs on you for Danny, sending him candid photos of you and the baby once it arrives. Now that she actually likes you, sweeping the whole thing under the rug changes to include keeping you as well.

Danny has little sibling as well: two younger brothers. They're both far younger than him, and they don't really have an opinion of you one way or another. You just kind of... appeared in their house one day. Their mom and dad started stressing for a while, and you didn't seem too happy either, so what was this whole deal? I think they'd be very kind to you initially, bothering you to play and sharing sweets when they wished to, and they're both curious and annoyed about the fact that a baby is going to join them soon.

I think that while the siblings don't learn about what happened to you, their perception of love and morality would be heavily skewed by the fact that you, being scared and held in the house against your will, and their big brother are presented as the pinnacle of romance.

Overall, you'd be accepted, but there are definitely a lot of strings attached to that.

The kids

I think Danny really loves his kids with you. Or rather, he loves the idea of having a family more than he actually would the kids themselves. He's always had this dream that the two of you would be lost in a fluffy, domestic bliss until the day you died, and part of that meant a few little ones running around.

He's a good dad in the sense that he'd always be there for them. He'd take them to games, to dance practice, teach them how to work in the fields and buy them gifts. He's very present, but it's always with an undercurrent of control. You don't want to ruin this happy family, do you now? Your kids love their father, they love this happy home, so don't you dare think about leaving, okay?

In addition, I think that Danny would have a really hard time dealing with a kid that deviated from what he considered to be "normal" or "traditional". Part of his whole power in their very conservative town is that his family is a paragon of tradition and "societal values". It's how he trapped the reader after all. But if his kids threatened that balance of power by trying to leave the farm, go to the city, or be anything other that what he'd been trying to turn them into, I think he would genuinely lose it. His kids are not people to him, they are ideas and pawns that he'd become attached to.

If the kids turned out to be more like him in possessive, controlling behavior, then I think then he'd probably recognize them as their own individuals rather than just an fantasy he had for a legacy or a life with the reader.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[ishikaxmehra]

Throughout their friendship and then their relationship, there had never been a time when Ishika hadn’t been honest with Gavin. Something about him just always felt safe. Even now as she uttered those words, it had come from a place of complete honesty. But hearing him call it a problem, it stung. Not because he was viewing it as a problem but because he still cared enough to make say it that way. When he turned to look at her, she could swear her breath stopped for a moment. The clarity in his gaze, the way she’d once recalled those very eyes looking at her in a completely different manner—it was suddenly too much for her. She averted her own gaze, only to catch him admitting that he knew who had caused their attack. So she didn’t need to tell him. He was still going to continue working for the man who’d not only gone after her, but had gone after him as well to teach him a lesson. “It’s funny isn’t it? We thought the hardest hurdle for both of us would be dealing with your mother,” she murmured quietly, her fingers toying with that damned wrapper. “Turned out it was your boss.” 

Ishika heard the way he said protecting her was his job and while she’d refute it every day—she understood where it came from. It came from the extent of his feelings for her. She couldn’t fault him for that, but it still hurt that he kept blaming himself when the only person to blame—was Dante. “I thought we could do it too, I really did. I felt like…if other people get that chance to find happiness, why couldn’t we?” She let out a soft laugh once more before looking back at him when she asked for them to pretend they’d never interacted tonight. “I’m not asking you to forget about me. Or about us. I just didn’t want this chance meeting to sit on your shoulders like one more weight you have to carry. It’s not fair and I shouldn’t…have asked this of you.” She hated how weak she became in his presence, but then again—Gavin was the only person allowed to see the vulnerable Ishika Mehra.

She was about to tell him to leave, to keep his sane move when she heard what he said about something happening to her and only then did she risk the burn of touching him. Her hand gently moved to close over his, knowing that she was treading dangerous lines right now before she took a deep breath. He didn’t know she was planning on retaliating against Dante. He shouldn’t know. But Ishika knew that in doing so—she couldn’t guarantee her coming out of it unscathed but she wouldn’t tell him any of that, not wanting him to feel more grief or guilt than necessary. “Gavin, I—need you to promise me something. Just one thing—whenever something happens to me, you won’t do let yourself go crazy. You have so much more in life and I…just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

He listened, her quiet words hitting him harder than a physical blow. It was so backward, so fundamentally opposed to the one rule he’d been living by for two months, that it short-circuited his brain. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice tight, strained. “That’s the whole goddamn problem right there, Ishika. That you’d even think that’s an option.” He finally looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the same clarity he’d been running from. “And you’re right. It wasn’t just about caring. It was about being close to me. Someone in my world … yeah, I get it. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” She knew. Of course she knew. She wasn’t some naive civilian; she was a Mehra. But he was the one who had led the wolf to her door, so focused on the one bright spot in his life that he’d forgotten it existed in a world of shadows. Dante’s influence was everywhere, a poison that seeped into everything. He’d been a fool to think he could build a firewall around her, around them. This-this quiet, broken conversation - was the price for that stupidity. He picked up his chopsticks, the wood feeling flimsy and useless in his grip, before putting them back down.

"It's my job," he said flatly, his words silencing her attempts to make excuses for him. “The second I let you get close, it became my job. That’s not something I can just clock out of because you say it’s okay. I knew the rules of the game I was in, and I got selfish. I wanted to pretend I could have you, the one real thing, and keep that separate from … everything else. But that’s not how it works. It all bleeds together.” He finally met her eyes, the honesty feeling like ripping off a bandage that had fused to the skin. “You want to just eat and pretend this never happened? We can’t. Pretending is what got you hurt in the first place. Me pretending I was some normal guy who could fall for a girl and it would all just work out.” He let out a dry, humorless huff of air. “This was always doomed. Your name, my job … it was a time bomb from the start. Staying away from you isn’t about making things harder. It’s the only sane move I have left. I won’t be the reason you end up back in a hospital, or worse. I was selfish once, dragging you into this mess. I’m not going to be that stupid again. It's not about love or not being friends, it's about keep you alive. Do you think if something were to happen to you, I wouldn't go crazy?"

[cherry-leclerc]

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by cola, lana del rey !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment. 

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone. 

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true. 

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers. 

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma. 

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second. 

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver. 

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice. 

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.” 

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger. 

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was.  He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

-

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom. 

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water. 

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy. 

He’s a man.

“What do you say?” 

“Sorry?” 

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

-

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.” 

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors. 

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance. 

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away. 

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

-

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy. 

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated. 

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.” 

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled. 

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.” 

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

-

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof. 

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of. 

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there. 

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours. 

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola. 

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts. 

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped. 

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog. 

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret. 

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

-

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening. 

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes. 

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?” 

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice. 

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress. 

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound. 

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders. 

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back. 

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

-

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much. 

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable. 

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer. 

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND. 

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you. 

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

-

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.” 

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.” 

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally. 

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least. 

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct. 

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him. 

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough. 

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band. 

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing. 

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano. 

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips. 

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big.  “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once. 

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds. 

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure. 

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours. 

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle. 

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness. 

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end. 

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow. 

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual. 

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.” 

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?” 

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ stick with me ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. kang sae-byeok x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ finding out you’re also participating in the games & staying by your side throughout┊1.6k words

contains: mentions of canon-typical violence, open ending, season one spoilers, headcanons mainly, established relationship, sunshine (& kinda naive) x grumpy trope, sae-byeok being protective & the best gf, all of this is a little rambly like word vomit i hope you don’t mind

➤ author's note: squid game felt so empty without her like i adore all of the new women in season two but i missed her so much T-T

╰₊✧ even if she doesn’t show it through her expressions, she’s really upset to find you in this situation— not because she’s mad at you, but because she’s mad at herself. she wonders what kind of awful girlfriend she must be not to have noticed you were struggling through debt like she was. now that she thinks about it, she realizes how painfully obvious it was with your strange behavior when it came to working any freelance job you saw a sign of (you weren’t a pickpocket like her, you would never commit any crime intentionally), and being overall stingy when it came to spending money on yourself. she might unintentionally give you the silent treatment for the first few hours simply because she feels terrible about it all but still doesn’t want you to leave her side despite that.

“are you mad at me because i didn’t tell you?” you whined, sticking by her side like a baby duckling with its mama and gently holding on to her arm because she wasn’t looking at you. “sae-byeok… i just didn’t want you to worry about me when you already had so much on your plate…”

she merely blinked in response, stone-faced like usual, making it impossible to determine what was going through her mind. there was a sinking feeling in her chest, the feeling of failing one of the few people she cared about.

“it’s okay… i get it… i’ll give you some space— just come look for me when you wanna talk, i’m going to talk with some of the other people here…” 

she suddenly grabbed you by the hand and dragged you back before you could move away, wrapping her arm around your waist in a protective manner, “no, i’m not mad at you, i promise. just stick with me, okay? i wouldn’t trust anyone here if i were you.” yes, the majority of people here seemed to be middle-aged people who were simply down on their luck. no, she didn’t believe there weren’t any bad ones who would easily take advantage of your kindness in such a large group of people.

you didn’t seem to quite understand what she meant in the last part, but you still cheerfully pulled her in for an embrace once she confirmed she wasn’t upset as you always did when a miscommunication was cleared up. (you didn’t see it, but she cracked a little smile when she hugged you back.)

╰₊✧ pushes you away the second she spots deok-su and quickly tells you to stay away while he confronts her about a past you didn’t know much about, making a scene in front of everyone and progressively getting more aggressive towards her. of course, once he makes his first swing, you immediately run in and start yelling at him to leave her alone when there were clearly more pressing issues at hand. when gi-hun interrupts because he wants to also confront her about something, you had to restrain yourself from pushing him away because you were a pacifist at heart and had been taught to respect your elders no matter what all your life. 

╰₊✧ later when you two join the little alliance gi-hun formed, she makes them keep an eye on you if she has to part from you for any reason. she knows that bastard would make a beeline for you the second he sees you alone, and that bastard isn’t above playing dirty by hurting you or holding you hostage to get leverage on her. the guys find this to be so goddamn adorable and frequently tease sae-byeok for her obvious soft spot towards her girlfriend because they can tell she’s flustered despite how indifferent she may look. listening to you talk about her reminds them that she’s just another young woman who is trying to care for her loved ones and not the shady thief who works with gangsters they once thought she was. they also defend you guys from anyone being homophobic and swear that they will attend your wedding once they get out alive, noting they likely won’t have money for gifts after all the reward money goes toward paying off debt, but you tell them you would appreciate their presence anyway!

╰₊✧ after the first game when they vote all go home, she wants to make you swear on your life that you don’t ever go back to that dangerous place, but she knows how unrealistic that is. she now knows about the crippling debt you both have and it wouldn’t be long before the loan sharks will hunt you down to force you to do terrible things to pay it back. so on the last day of staying on the korean mainland, she coughs up the money to pay for a nice last date before the two of you willingly enter what you believe to be the closest thing earth has to hell.

╰₊✧ instead of the dangerous, loner vibe she has in the original, when she has you by her side, she has the aura of a mama bear— which is fitting considering you’re like a little cub. she’s very protective of you and gives everyone a look that says “hurt her and i’ll kill you” to shut down any possible schemes before they start and helps you out during all of the games because she doesn’t want to risk anything happening to you. it might feel a bit infantilizing to you, but she’s just so terrified at the concept of you getting injured or worse.

red light, green light - keeps you behind her at all times, verbally reminding you not to panic even though she can sense you freaking out. might even hold your hand and guide you through it all, telling you to close your eyes and ignore the sound of bullets as she pulls you through the finish line. 

sugar honeycombs - tells ali to keep you company while she goes into the bathroom to sneak around the vents (he’s your best friend, by the way, the energy is immaculate) and immediately has you pick the triangle shape when lining up (there isn’t too much she needs to do because it’s one of the easier games for you to do).

special game (night of murder) - wants you to hide under the bunkbeds at first, a good idea until people started tipping them over. it’s difficult to find you with the lights flickering and with deok-su after her, so she has you met up with everyone else at gi-huns bed to protect each other. this battle is also likely the first time you cause bodily harm to someone else in self-defense, which will probably fuck you up especially if they are found dead later on. you’ll have some minor injuries, maybe a fractured rib or some cuts, but you’re still alive and that’s all that matters to sae-byeok.

tug of war - might look annoyed at your optimism to win with all the women and the old man on your team, but trust me, she really appreciates it since she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you suddenly shut down and because you seem to keep their heads ups with your infectious smile. there’s not much she could do to help you out here as it’s a team effort, but she was half-tempted to bribe you into a team with all men just in case (and also because you looked like you were about to start a fight with sang-woo over him insisting that they needed more men and wanting to kick ji-yeong off the team) yet ultimately decided against it which turned out to be the best decision. 

╰₊✧ the games strengthen your relationship through all of the blood and trauma, sticking together through it all and taking care of each other in the lowest moments. you two often share food and sometimes even sleep in the same bed if the other needs comfort, which would be very cute if your hands weren’t constantly trembling from fear and your skin didn’t have little specks of dried blood all over. sae-byeok is tough and has seen her share of violence, but it was all things she was trying to hide from you and keep you safe from ever since she entered this relationship with you. no matter how much you try to assure her that you can handle it, the sinking feeling of failure never leaves her.

“i’m… i’m really scared…” you sighed, cuddling yourself into her side. the barracks were so quiet you could hear a pin drop, yet there was the almost suffocating looming fear of death haunting the place knowing so many souls died within these walls. it always felt so cold even under the blankets with the powerful air-conditioning, but the warmth radiating off of sae-byeok’s body felt like a sanctuary. 

“i know, i know,” she assured. there was a part of her that wanted to admit that she was scared too as she rubbed circles into your back to ease you to sleep, she didn’t dare to even think of her biggest fear in case it manifested into reality. she wouldn’t know what to do with herself in case it came true, so she chose to bury the thought of it deep down where she prayed it would never show itself again.

she dreams of winning these games with you, using the money to pay off all your debts, helping her mother escape north korea, to go towards her brother’s future, to helping the both of you start new lives where you both were accepted— all things she thinks of to push back all of the dark thoughts and help her sleep in your arms, forever by your side.

request was [ Please could you do something about saebyeok x gf!reader? where they both went to the games 😪😪]

[poisonofthepaint]

why are you up here?

a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.

cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry

wc: 4.6k

The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete. 

“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”

“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.” 

He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”

“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t know if I care.” 

You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him. 

He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”

You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.

“You know you did everything, right?”

“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”

Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.

“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”

He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light. 

“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”

Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.

“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”

You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face. 

“You smoke old man cigarettes.”

“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”

You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes. 

You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it. 

He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”

You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.

 “It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.

Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”

There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.

“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened. 

“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips. 

“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”

You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe. 

“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”

You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear. 

“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”

He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him. 

The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.

“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly. 

It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital. 

“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.

“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”

Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.

“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”

You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”

And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.

It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.

The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR. 

Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.

“Gloves,” you say.

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.

You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.

“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”

You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.

“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own. 

“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

You nod, the storyline connecting in your head. 

“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”

“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.

“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”

He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in. 

He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”

You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize. 

“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.” 

Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you. 

“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”

You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly. 

“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.

Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday. 

“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow.  “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”

He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”

You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.

The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement. 

You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.

Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”

He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR. 

You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.

You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.

Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.

You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.

You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.

While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.

“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.

“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”

Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”

You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation. 

You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.

The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.

“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”

“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.

“So, how are–”

“Don’t,”

You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.

“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.

“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.

“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”

“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”

“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.” 

“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.” 

It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true. 

“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”

You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.

“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”

He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.

“I have to go check on patients.”

He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone. 

After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen. 

Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.

He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”

You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.

You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.

“Trying something new?”

“I’m trying to compromise.”

He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.

You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day. 

“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”

He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”

“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”

You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs. 

“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.” 

“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”

“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”

“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”

He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”

“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him. 

His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.

“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”

“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”

He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him. 

“Before they do, I need to do this.”

As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.

The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.

“Back to it?”

You sigh, “Three more hours.” 

Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak?

scarer!Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: you go to a fright night with your friends and can’t help be attracted to one of the scarers who passes by, and when your friends let you know just how weirded out they are by your acquired taste, he steps in and lets you know just how badly he wants to fuck you. If only there was a way to properly thank him for defending you. 

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) oral (m receiving) hair pulling, kinks (mask, breeding) sub!Eddie, dom!reader, reader's friends are bullies

Based on this request and this request!

part two

The place was bustling when you and your friends entered it. It had been a tradition for the four of you to go every year, but the difference was that this year you were going to fuck one of the workers. There was just something about the whole thing that sounded exciting to you, and bonus points if it happened in one of the haunted houses.

You surveyed the place, on the hunt for the person you were going to pick out, hoping that they would agree, but totally understood if they didn't since it was a pretty odd request. You were sure that they didn’t get asked that very often, but you were still feeling pretty confident in yourself. 

Your friend Aria looped her arm through yours as the two of you walked. You were easily closer to her than you were to the others but like the others, she also didn’t understand your whole obsession with or your attraction to all of the employees in their scary costumes, and you didn’t understand why she thought it was so weird. 

A worker slid through the walkway and Aria made sure to push you out of the way so neither of you had gotten in the way. And the man stopped right in the center, giving you a great view of the profile of his mask. And in that moment, you decided that he was the one. 

Aria let out a shriek from beside you and the worker whipped around, turning to face you, and while you were resisting the urge to twirl your hair in a flirtatious manner, your friend was practically shaking like a leaf. 

She stepped behind you and the man turned to you, his face dangerously close to yours. You stared him down, taking in the features of his mask. It looked like plastic and you hadn’t recognized it from anywhere so you figured it had been a random mask that was just supposed to be scary. And it was with the eyes that were a cloudy white and the bloody smile that had far too many teeth in its smile. 

But that didn’t matter anyway. You were attracted to the way he moved, the confidence that exuded from him, the way he inched closer that your faces were so close that you could just lean in and-no-you couldn’t do that, especially when he was on the clock. Instead, you looked down at his outfit. It consisted of a pair of tight jeans, a baggy band t-shirt, and a jean jacket that had a bunch of pins and patches of some of your favorite bands. He really was the whole package. 

You looked back up at him, his hair catching your eye. It was dark brown and curly, perfectly achieving the effortlessly messy look that you knew was hard to accomplish. It also looked so soft and you wanted to run your hands through it to see it felt as good as it looked. It would have nice to hold onto while he-

Your hand reached up and you pushed Aria further behind you as you stared the stranger down. So many thoughts, all of them impure. Why did you have to be the freak amongst your friends? Why couldn’t you have just found these characters scary like they did? Why were you so attracted to the man in front of you? 

“Better be careful,” he told you and just the husky sound of his voice was making you feel things. “Wouldn’t want your friend to get hurt while I’m sliding through.” He was stepping closer and you only backed up so you wouldn’t do something you have regretted. If you had had it your way, you would have taken him right there, pulling him into the nearest space where you could have had some privacy. 

Jesus, you really needed to chill out. It wasn’t like you would have actually had the guts to ask him. It was all just something that would live in your head. All just a fantasy that would never see the light of day. 

“She won’t,” you replied, stepping closer to the man. “I’ll protect her.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Enjoy your evening.” And with that, he turned on his heel and slid across the way to scare another group. You were definitely going to enjoy your evening if you kept thinking about him. 

Aria moved from behind you and for a second, you almost forgot that she was even there, your mind still on the stranger. She looped her arm through yours once again and tried to keep herself composed. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “That guy was a freak.” Yeah, he was. And now you were beginning to wonder if he was a freak in the sheets as well. 

“I’m good. I think I need to go to the bathroom, though,” you told her, not exactly wanting to say why. You were sure that she’d figure it out anyway. 

“Jesus, you were turned on by that?” She was looking at you with a grimace as her voice raised a bit too loudly for your liking. You didn’t need everyone to know about your kinks. 

“Not so loud,” you moved to stand in front of her. “And yeah, I was. What’s so wrong with that?” You shrugged, watching her nose scrunch up in disgust. 

“So much,” Aria shook her head. “He was wearing a mask, y/n,” she pointed out as if you didn’t already know that. 

“Hence the bases of the appeal,” you rolled your eyes. What part was she not understanding?

“So you want to fuck the man wearing the mask that’s going to me my sleep paralysis demon for the next week? I’ll never understand you.” She was shaking her head in disgust and you didn’t like the way she always made comments on how weird or disturbing she thought your taste in men was. You would have never done that to her if the roles were reversed. 

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes again. “Why don’t you stop kink shaming me and we can go find the others.” 

You pulled her along and found the others in your group by the first house you were going to go into. You hadn’t even been paying attention to what they were saying as the same man slid past the four of you, immediately catching your eye. You stared, your thoughts getting even more impure by the second. 

“Jesus, she’s at it again,” Addison teased, but you ignored her. God, you really needed to get better friends. 

“You really think one of these guys will fuck you?”

“Yeah, you’re not a teenager anymore, y/n,” Claire added, crossing her arms over her chest. “And we came out here to have fun, not to watch you lust over all these weird creatures. And I bet the workers are uncomfortable with it too.” 

Your couldn’t believe it. They were all actually against you. How long had they felt that way and why were they being so mean? It wasn’t like you had vocalized it that many times and you weren’t actually going to fuck any of them anyway. And you supposed you couldn’t do it now that you were thoroughly embarrassed. 

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” you heard a voice and whipped around to see the man from earlier. He was approaching the four of you and the three girls backed up, leaving you to stand in front of him. “But I just wanted to say that I’m not embarrassed in the slightest. In fact, I’d be honored. A woman as beautiful as you? Shit, I’d be so down.” 

You blinked a few times, your brain taking a minute to register what was going on. Could it be true? Or was he just saying that to make you feel better? Probably the latter. That seemed more plausible. 

“You-what?” You stuttered, entirely unsure how to go about the situation now. You turned your back and sure enough, your friends had left, leaving the two of you alone. 

“I’m serious,” he nodded. “And fuck your friends. They’re just upset that they can’t match your freak. Which, I totally could, by the way. I’m into anything.” 

Was this really happening? Was the man you had been thirsting over for the past twenty minutes actually offering to have sex with you? It all definitely had to be some sort of surreal dream…right? 

“If you’re up for it, we can meet right here after closing and see where the night takes us.” 

“They’re not here anymore so you can quit the act,” you turned on your heel to leave, but he slid right in front of you to stop you from leaving, taking your hands in his. 

“Oh, but it’s not an act. I swear,” he brought your hands up to his mask, mimicking a kiss. ”I’ll be right here, but if you don’t come, I understand.” Oh, you were coming, and in more ways than one. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he nodded as he stood up, putting his fingerless glove out for you to shake. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” You were unsure whether or not that was his real name or a fake one, but you were going to go with it either way. 

“Y/n,” you replied and Eddie nodded. Y/n. He thought it suited you, and because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for five seconds, he couldn’t help but think about how much he was looking forward to moaning it. 

The rest of your night was spent alone as you went through all of the houses you could, not even thinking about what was occurring in each one, not even reacting to all of the scarers trying to get to you. The only thing that was going on in your head was the man in the mask and all of the things you were going to get up to after the event closed for the night. 

And unbeknownst to you, Eddie was thinking the same thing. Sure, he could get laid on his own, but it was definitely not as easy when he was wearing the mask. So the fact that you were so attracted to him while he had it on was doing things to him. He was so turned on that he didn’t know what to do with himself, eventually having to wrap his jacket around his front to prevent anyone from seeing his massive hard-on. 

And as the end of the night came to a close with everyone leaving, he was getting progressively more hard as he thought about what you would have looked like underneath you as he fucked you absolutely senseless until you couldn’t walk. And he couldn’t help but think about what you were going to sound like when you moaned or whined, god the whining was going to kill him. 

He was so close to hunting you down and having his way with you right then and there, not giving a single fuck about who was watching. He could feel his mouth watering at the idea of burying his face into your cunt, eating you out so well, licking and sucking a letting his teeth scrape across it, the movements continuing and getting more rough until your thighs were pressed against the side of his head, practically crushing it as moan after moan poured from your mouth. 

And just as he was about to go find you, there you were, right in front of him, looking like you were about to jump his bones right there. And he wanted you to, to push him up against the nearest object and-

“There you are,” you spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned around to face you and his face lit up at the sight of you despite you not being able to see it. And seeing you there, your bright smile playing on your lips just made him think about how badly he wanted to have them wrapped around his-

“Here I am,” you nodded at him as you stepped forward, standing right in front of him. The entire place was empty as the guests and other employees had left, leaving the two of you alone. And for once, Eddie was so happy that he had been the one in charge of locking up that night so he could have stayed there with you as long as you wanted. 

“So, should we head out to my car?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. 

“Actually,” you stepped even closer, coming toe to toe with him as you grabbed onto his hand. “I was thinking maybe we could go into one of the houses. 

“Well, shit, alright,” he let out a chuckle as he resisted the urge to look at your joined hands. Yours was soft and feeling his fingers against his made him wonder what they would have felt like in his mouth as he sucked on them. God, he was so horny that he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He reached up to take off his mask, wanting to take it off after a long day of work and feeling the need to see you with his actual eyes, not through the eyes of the mask that always made things look just a little distorted. But you had stopped him, your hands resting on top of his. 

“No, leave it on,” you instructed and Eddie wouldn’t dare argue. Shit, had he finally found someone who had matched his freak? He thought he might have. 

“So, you’re really going to fuck me without knowing what I look like?” Of course you were. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had done so, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged. “The mask is hot.” He loved how you were so unapologetic about your interests, how you had even defended yourself to your friends about your acquired taste. 

“Really?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows even though you couldn’t see him. Perhaps you were even more of a freak than he was, and he thought that was hard to do. He was the freakiest person he had known, both in personality and in the bedroom, but maybe, maybe you had him beat. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Really. And I bet you’re hot too.” People had told him so on occasion, and he thought so too, but sometimes the trauma of living in Hawkins crept up on him on occasion. But clearly he had won since the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing right in front of him, wanting to fuck his brains out. And there was absolutely no way in hell that he was going to decline. 

“Well,” he shrugged. “So what house were you thinking?” He turned his head left and right, taking in all the options. 

“This one,” you pointed to the one you were standing right next to. Eddie was a little surprised that you had chosen the one that had to have been the scariest one in the entire park, but he supposed that he shouldn’t have been considering that you had been attracted to his scary mask. 

“And there’s that hay stack so we won’t be completely on the floor.” You held your hand out for Eddie and he took it gratefully, grinning from ear to ear and he was grateful that you couldn’t see the pink that was staining his cheeks as you led him inside. The whole thing was dark when you had opened the door and that made the experience all the more exciting. 

You turned on your phone flashlight continued to lead him further into the house, not missing how his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to him, whether it was to protect you or just an excuse to hold you close, you didn’t know, but either way, you leaned into him, feeling his rock hard cock brush against your ass as you did so. You whipped around and turned to face him with a devilish grin appearing on your pretty lips. 

“Already hard for me, aren’t you, Eddie?” You asked, your hand moving to cup his cock, pressing your hand against it while giving it a little squeeze. He let out an involuntary moan fell from his lips making you grin even more. “Do you need me to take care of you?” You asked and he nodded furiously, needing it so badly that he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

You backed him against the nearest wall so he had something to lean against before you pressed your lips to his mask, letting your tongue glide across it, making Eddie even more hard as he watched you. As your tongue was busy, you unzipped his pants, pushing them down so that they fell to his feet, his underwear following as his rock hard cock sprang free. 

“Look at you, already ready for me,” you said as you got down on your knees, wrapping your hand around the base while your tongue swiped along the tip licking up the cum that had leaked from it which caused Eddie to gasp as he pressed his hands against the wall, desperate for something to hold onto.

 “Relax baby,” you cooed. “Let me take care of you, hm?” You took him into his mouth and began to suck on him, looking up at him even though you couldn’t see his face because of his mask, but you could just tell the kind of face he was making with his eyes shut tight, his mouth falling up as the hottest moans came from it. 

You continued to suck as your tongue swiped across the head, your other hand moving to his thigh where you squeezed like it was your own personal stress ball. His hands moved to your hair, threading through it and giving it a tug when you did something he particularly liked. He’d been sucked off before, but never like that, never so well that the whole thing made him weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” he whined. “So good.” You continued to suck and hearing his moans was all you needed to continue, but you decided that it was time to switch things up. You removed him from your mouth and looked up at him with a pleading look and Eddie decided that he was going to whatever you asked.

“Fuck my mouth,” you commanded and Eddie tilted his head to the side as confusion washed over him.

“Fuck your mouth?” He had only done it one time before and he hadn’t liked it, but maybe this time would be different. 

“Yes, Eddie, fuck my mouth. Please,” you begged and he shrugged, hypnotized by the look in your eyes, the way your mouth formed the words. Without a word, he grabbed onto the back of your head and brought his dick to your lips, watching you open up as he slid inside, his cock pumping in and out of your mouth, feeling your lips wrap around him, sucking him off every time he got far enough inside. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he progressively fit more of himself into your mouth, addicted to the feeling. 

This had been entirely different than the first time. 

This time, he had known what he was doing and you seemed to enjoy the whole thing, your eyes closed in absolute bliss as you sucked him off, your own moans falling from your lips. And when he was able to fit all of himself inside you, your nose brushing the patch of hair above his cock, your eyes watering as the head hit the back of your throat, he was convinced he hadn’t seen anything so hot in his life. 

His hands tugged on your hair as he came, the loudest moans leaving his mouth as his head was thrown back, leaning forward so it didn’t hit the wall. You opened your eyes just in time to see him do it, the stubble along the part of his jaw that you could see caught your eye and you immediately thought about you how wanted to feel it prickle against your lips as you sucked on the spot. 

You felt cum leak out onto the back of your tongue and you pulled him from you before swallowing, watching him come down from his orgasm before he grabbed onto your arms to help you to your feet. 

“Swear to god that was the best head of my life.” With any other guy you would have thought that was line, but with Eddie, you didn’t know why, but you believed him. It had to be true with the way he had reacted to the whole thing. “Now it’s only fair if I repay you for being so generous.”

“No, baby, tonight’s about you,” you shook your head. “I have to repay you for defending me somehow.” 

“But-“

“No,” you cut him off, covering the mouth of his mask with your hand as you looked into the white eyes, wondering how the hell he could see through them. “You just stay and enjoy, okay? Let me thank you.” 

Eddie just nodded as he stayed against the wall, watching you step away from him as you unzipped your jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you, revealing the black corset that you were wearing. 

The panels of it were made of a thin lace, leaving practically nothing up to the imagination and Eddie couldn’t believe that, in a way, you had worn it for him. He had overheard you talking with your friends, telling them that you had intended on fucking one of the scarers and he was still kind of in shock that he had been the one you had chosen. Sure, he had offered, but that didn’t mean that you had to agree. 

Your hands moved down your body slowly as they traveled down to your skirt, unzipping the side and letting it pool at your feet before kicking it to the side. You then removed your shoes, followed by your tights, leaving you in just your top and the pretty underwear that matched. And Eddie was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven as he stared at you. 

You grabbed onto his hands and moved them to rest on your back, putting on the most flirty face you could muster. 

“Thought I’d let you do the honors of doing the rest of the undressing,” you bat your lashes and Eddie stayed silent, nodding enthusiastically at the idea. He undid the clasps while maintaining eye contact with you. He had unclasped more bras than he could count so the mechanism was very familiar to him. 

He did it slowly, one by one, watching the thing get more loose until he got to the last one, watching it fall to the floor between the two of you. He then brought his gaze back up to your bare chest, feeling his cock getting harder as he took in your naked top half. Fuck, you were beautiful, angelic. 

“Jesus christ,” he groaned, feeling his cock twitch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“No, that’s you, handsome,” you winked and he wondered how he had found someone more smooth, more flirty than he was. “Now the panties,” you nodded your head towards the pair you were wearing and Eddie’s hands traveled down your waist, tucking his fingers into your waistband, slowly pulling your panties down your legs, getting lower as they moved down south, getting a look at how wet you were as he did so, seeing it running down your legs.

 If he hadn’t been so shy, he would have cleaned you up with his mouth before draping your legs over his shoulders and eaten you out for hours on end, showing you just how hot he thought you were with just his mouth. 

Once the panties were removed, he stood to his feet with one of the leg holes looped over his pointer finger, holding them out to you. 

“Keep them,” you told him. “Something to remember the night by.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I need your panties to help me remember what happened tonight,” he chuckled. 

“Keep them anyway.” He let them drop from his finger onto the floor then looked back up at you for further instruction. 

“Now it’s your turn,” you told him. “Shirt off.” Without hesitation, Eddie’s shirt was off and on the floor next to your panties. You stared at his upper body, eyes running over his tattoos, thinking about how much you wanted to run your tongue along them. And you were beginning to think that maybe you would. If he was a good boy, of course. Had to make him sing for his supper. 

“Now the rest of it.” First were his boots and socks that were discarded quickly then tossed to the side, followed by his pants then boxers that ended up in the pile with the rest of his clothes. 

Your eyes raked over his body and couldn’t help but stare, feeling wet as you took in his cock, thinking about how badly you wanted him inside of you, about how you didn’t want to use a condom, about how you wouldn’t have been upset if you had wound up pregnant.

“Lie down,” you told him and he was quick to obey, lying down on the floor, his long hair splayed out around his head. “I don’t want to use a condom. I-I’m kind of turned on by getting pregnant by you.” You were suddenly feeling shy, looking down to hide how much your cheeks were burning. But Eddie grabbed onto your face, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t even know what I look like and have decided that you want to have my baby?” He asked, wanting to make sure he was hearing correctly, feeling himself getting even more hard as he thought about it, imagining your stomach getting bigger, growing even more turned on as he thought about how it would have been because of him. 

“What you look like doesn’t matter,” you shook your. “You’re sweet and stupidly hot. At least, body-wise, and I’d be honored to have your baby, Eddie. I know we just met and I sound psycho, but I’m beginning to think that you like that about me,” You bat your lashes again as you leaned over him, your face getting close to his. Jesus, he finally found someone who had matched his freak?

“If you’re psycho, then I’m psycho,” he chuckled. “So, are you actually wanting me to get you pregnant or just saying that you wouldn’t be upset if you happened to wind up pregnant? Just want to be clear.”

“The second one,” you told him as you brought your lips to his mask again and he returned your kiss even though the plastic was a barrier. He was so close to ripping the thing off so he could feel your lips against his, but he decided against it, wanting to help you live out a fantasy that you had clearly been dreaming about for a long time. 

“Fuck it,” he patted his lap, inviting you to climb on top of him and you did so, Eddie helping you sink onto his cock, practically cumming as he heard the loud moan escape your mouth as he got inside you. “Bet you’re gonna look so fucking hot,” he rasped as you began to ride him, his hips bucking against yours as you moved together. “Already do. Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you.” 

“Christ, you have a filthy mouth,” you told him as your hands grabbed onto his shoulders and in one swift motion, he flipped you over so that your back was against the floor, hovering over you, his hair creating a curtain around your face. 

“Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart,” he chuckled again, pounding into you, watching you come undone underneath him. He loved being a bottom, but there was just something about being on top that made him feel so powerful and he wanted to be the one to be in control this time. Wanted to come inside you, watching your back arch as he filled you, fucking you even harder as he thought about your pregnant stomach again. 

“What do you think I’ll look like?” You asked through heavy breaths and Eddie felt like he finally had permission to tell you all the thoughts he had been holding back the entire night because he had been afraid of freaking you out. 

“Fucking hot,” he replied as his pace picked up, hypnotized by the way your tits were bouncing because of how hard he was fucking you, feeling his mouth collecting drool because of how badly he had wanted to suck on them. “Your tits are gonna get so big.” 

“You’re right-oh,” you let out a loud moan. “Fuck, Eddie.” A whine fell from your lips. “What else?” 

“Gonna make you wear tight clothes so I can always see your bump, a constant reminder of this night and what I’ve done to you.”

“I-” you cut yourself off. “I think I’ve finally found someone who matches my freak.” 

“Guess it’s fate that we’ve found each other then,” he winked, even though you couldn’t see him. “And I suppose it makes sense since I’m gonna be the father of your child.” His pace picked up, moving the fastest and hardest that he could and you clenched around him as you watched him reach yet another climax, a howl escaping him as you felt his cum feel you, even more turned on that in just a few weeks, you could have been carrying a child. 

You didn’t care that Eddie had been a stranger. You hadn’t had a connection like that with anyone and thought that he was right, that the whole thing really had been fate. And as you watched him orgasm, you couldn’t think about how you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to father your child even though you hadn’t seen his face. He had shown you how beautiful he was just from his personality. He was sweet and kind and you felt so lucky to have found him. 

Eddie continued to fuck you, wanting to see just how many times the both of you could come until you were each both fucked out, until you couldn’t walk. So you stayed like that for a while, moans tumbling from both of your mouths as you both had orgasm after orgasm right there on the floor of the haunted house. 

The mask stayed on the entire time even after Eddie had pulled out and the two of you had gotten dressed. Even as you had fled the park, as he locked up, even as you both had headed to your car hand in hand. But as you stood in front of the driver’s side, staring up at the mask you had become so familiar with, your curiosity was getting the best of you as you suddenly had to know what he looked like. 

You slowly brought your hands up to the bottom of it, slowly pulling it up, a gasp escaping your mouth as you took him in, the boyish smile, his adorable nose and those damn bambi eyes that were looking at you with so much affection. 

“Eddie-” you said, finally able to put a face to the name you had become so familiar with and decided that he had suited him well. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek and brought his face to yours, slotting your lips between his as his hands moved to your waist, pulling your body to his gently. 

The whole thing had juxtaposed what you had just done in the haunted house and you kind of liked that, loving the feeling of his lips against yours, already knowing that you could easily kiss him for hours and not get tired of it. And before you could get too carried away, you pulled away to look back at the man, your thumb rubbing against his cheek affectionately. 

“You’re so hot that it’s unfair,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, but didn’t mind if he heard you. A wide smile broke out on his face and you couldn’t help but mimic it. “Yeah,” you nodded. “Our baby is going to be beautiful.”

“Well, that’d only be because of you,” he winked, happy that you could finally see it this time. 

“You need to stop saying things like that or I’m going to have to take you right in my backseat.” And before you could grab your keys from your purse to unlock the car, Eddie had you pinned to the door, his arms on either side of your shoulders, caging you in. 

“You say that like you wouldn’t enjoy it,” he whispered, his lips right by your ear. He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He removed his phone from his jacket pocket and pulled up his contact list before handing it to you. You quickly typed in your number and handed the device back to him before grabbing him by the shirt and pressing your lips to his one last time. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” you told him before grabbing your keys and unlocking your car. 

“Oh, I won’t,” he shook his head as he watched you get into the driver’s seat and turn on the engine. He was about to move so you could back out, but you rolled your window down and waved him forward. Eddie stepped closer and leaned down, watching you lean forward. “Need one for the road,” you told him as you puckered your lips and he was quick to oblige, pecking your lips then pulling away so you could roll up the window. 

He then moved out of the way so you could pull out of your space, watching your car roll by, immediately deciding that he was going to text you as soon as he got home, knowing that he was going to think about that night every day for the rest of his life, hoping that you wanted to be apart of it as much as he wanted you to. Well, he supposed you did since there was a possibility that you could have been having his child. And he really hoped that you were.

[caxde]

truly | eddie munson x reader

summary you and eddie are best friends, oblivous to each others' feelings until someone helps you realise (4.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! based on this ask!

You were a bit too deep inside your thoughts, as you often were. You hair was half up, hair loose on the front framed your face in a way that made you seem even more concentrated than you actually were. Your left hand was lost on the back of your neck, messaging that spot in a repetitive manner that soothes you. Your right hand was scribbling down the frame ideas for the essay that was due in a couple days. 

Eddie noticed as soon as he entered the dining hall. You had used your free period to set yourself into a quiet corner, bathed by the weak sunlight of the late morning. He knew you had barely moved from your spot, the crease on your blue jeans that always formed if you stopped moving had been there for a while.  He smiled shyly to himself before asking the lunch lady that was setting up everything if she could give him some water for you, he knew she’d say yes since it was for you. The kindness that you always showed her was something Eddie usually used to his advantage. A lot of snacks that he promised were for you were usually for him. A red apple if he was bored, whatever soda she’d give if he was still craving something sweet and whatever wrapped up candy bar she had left when he needed a bargain chip for something else. 

This time, the lunch lady smiled to herself as soon as she saw how he approached you. Slowly, trying his hardest not to disturb you. His right hand replaced your left, messaging that same spot you had been mindlessly rubbing for over an hour. Your eyes met in that same moment, when the bottled water hitted the table. The soft warm light framed the encounter, a perfect photograph. 

Eddie’s wild curly hair seemed longer when he was standing over you, and you enjoyed how it bounced once he sat down and shook his head. 

He didn’t say anything, there really was no need. 

He grabbed your notebook and eyed your scribbling right before trying to hide his chuckling. You playfully punched him in the arm, while you took the first sip of water in god knows how long. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until the water touched your lips.

 Half of the bottle was now empty.

 Eddie glanced at it before letting his lips curl, just as you pushed your hair behind your ear. 

“I thought you had already finished Mrs.White essay” He finally said, leaving the notebook right where it was, his body shifting so his legs were in between the bench, looking directly at you. 

“I did.” You pointed out, looking back at his brown eyes, the sun hitting them always makes them seem brighter, like melted chocolate you thought. “This one’s yours.” You shook your head, pushing the notebook into him.

“How…Why would you…” He didn’t really know how to formulate the question, a bit too dumbfounded to even process the information you were giving to him. 

“You have Hellfire tonight.” You say, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “And you haven’t even started reading the book yet… so… Just copy it so it has your handwriting once I’m done, ‘kay?” 

“You’re an Angel.” He says, astonished. He can feel his cheeks getting warmer for a second before he shakes his head, leaning closer to you so he can leave a small kiss on your cheek. Partially to say thank you, though deep down he knows he’s doing it so he can see you bite down the inside of your cheek, in an attempt to not blush as quickly as he had done. 

“Yeah, you can pay me later.” You joke, returning his gesture with your knee bumping into his leg. “The water doesn’t count.” You say before he can, his index finger already pointing at it. 

“Oh come on! You were about to die of dehydration.” 

“Denise gave it to you!” 

“I did, loverboy.” You can’t help but giggle as soon as you hear her interfere. But maybe it was because seeing Eddie flustered and rolling his eyes made your chest tighten in a way you were unfamiliar with. 

“Loverboy?” Eddie questioned with his voice barely above a whisper, even you didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, getting your attention once again. “You should clear the table.” He added in a hush tone, nodding to the opening doors of the dining hall. You smiled as you started to put your things away, tucked neatly into your beat-up backpack. Everything but Eddie’s half done essay was away. He left you scribbling away, while a hoard of hungry students invaded the previously quiet space. 

Robin sat down next to you, with her usual soft “hi” right before she peered over your shoulder so she could see what you were writing. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the words you were writing. 

“Eddie doesn’t know what perhaps means.” She points out teasing you with a smirk once you look right at her. 

“He has to.” You argue, not really focusing on her teasing, not wanting to get into it. Not really wanting to understand what it means. “He has read The Hobbit like fifty times.” 

“That’s why he keeps reading it.” She continues, unwrapping her homemade sandwich. The smell of melted cheese hits your nose, making your stomach rumble with hunger. “He doesn’t understand it.” You can’t help but laugh with her. That kind of laugh that makes your cheeks hurt after a while. 

“What are you up to on Saturday?” You ask in your usual cheerful voice, trying desperately to change the topic of conversation away from the curly headed boy. 

“I’m covering Steve’s turn at Family Video, so I guess I won’t leave until I close. Yey for double shifts.” She cheers in a monotone voice that makes the right side of your lips curl upwards. 

“Yay for money?” You try to make her chuckle, with little success. 

“I guess.” She plays a bit with the crust of her sandwich before she takes a bite out of it. “Why couldn’t my parents be made of money?”

“Hey, at least you have parents.” Eddie joins back at your table, closely followed by his little followers. You scoot so everyone barely fits. 

“Are you feeding a whole town by yourself?” Robin snaps back, as her eyes widen at the size of Eddie’s overstuffed plates. 

“Nah, just taking advantage of the American School System.” He chuckles as his little finger pushes the tray in your direction, in a subtle way, so you won’t notice. 

Robin does notice however. And so does Dustin. They exchange a knowing look that you both don’t see. You’re way too deep into the way his mouth moves whenever he is explaining a nonsense story like he is now, his hair softly brushing his pale cheeks everytime he ends a sentence, and Eddie is too enamored by the way your eyes shine at him, as he feels how every word makes your lips curl upwards, drawing a big smile on your face. 

You pick at his food, and he just smiles down at you whenever he catches you eating something. He knows you have a hard time remembering to feed yourself, even more so when you’re deep in concentration, once he saw you sitting alone being engulfed by various papers he knew you hadn’t eaten, and how you probably wouldn’t until you had finished or gotten home. He smiled back with his eyes half closed making those tiny lines appear next to his eyes, a type of smile you knew well. A please do anything you want, a please keep doing exactly what you are doing, a please never leave my side kind of smile. 

“psst” Dustin whispered into Robin’s ear, hitting her arm with his elbow. 

“What!?” She half whispered as she turned around quickly, her eyes almost out of her head, as she rubbed the spot where he hit her. 

“What do we do?” He asks, nodding to the both of you. The angelical image you both formed looked straight out of a painting. The looks of admiration between the both of you were enough for anyone else to realise something was happening. 

“We?” 

“Yeah, they’re smart, but they’re also idiots.” Dustin overenunciated every word, as he usually does when he’s whispering. Robin rolled her eyes at the image of you, falling deep and without breaks, with you not even realising it. 

“We could kidnap them.” She half jokes, talking to Dustin’s ear while her eyes were still fixated onto you. “Put them in nice clothes and chuck them into a restaurant.” She chuckled as she ended the sentence, her voice picking the paste as she got more excited about those nonsense ideas. 

“Eddie doesn’t do restaurants. Says they’re an elitist nightmare fruit of capitalism or something like that. He does like dinners though.” Dustin points out in a monotone whisper, his head now turned to both of you. 

“That’s your issue with what I said?” 

“Pretty much.” Dustin answers nonchalantly. “We could just talk to them.” 

“And tell them what, exactly?” Robin raises her eyebrow as she quickly glances at Dustin, right when you’re laughing at one of Eddie’s bad jokes. 

“Just… I don’t know. That they’re stupid, and they obviously like each other.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t call them stupid.” Robin points out. 

“Yeah, I know.” Dustin waits for a moment as he watches Eddie shake his head just so he can see you smile widen. “But they are, right?” 

“Oh.” Robin waits as she watches you leaving your hand on the high part of his tight, squeezing it softly. Eddie’s eyes open a bit as they shine a bit more. “Absolutely they are.” 

-

By the time you reached your car, your backpack still half opened with a notebook blocking the zipper’s way, Robin was already sitting on the hood of the red chipped paint. You smiled at her as you pushed the little button on your keys, hearing the loud noise it did as it unlocked, making the short haired girl jump as she laid her feet on the ground once more, opening the passenger door as she found her way in. You opened your door, passing her your backpack as you dove in, head first and turning the key on the same movement, knowing that the sooner you had your windows down, the better the heat that had accumulated from a long day would be handled. 

Robin kicked her almost empty bag under her feet, as she tightly held onto the overly stuffed one that was hanging from your shoulders as she looked attentively at you. You playfully mistake that level of attention, guessing that she needed confirmation that you remembered that she was working that afternoon. 

“Don’t worry.” You chirp as your hands start changing the car gear’s. “I’ll have you at Family Video in ten minutes.” 

“What?” She mumbled as she was focused on the wrong thing once more. 

“Are you not working today?” You answer back as you stop at a red light, looking at her for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed as she nods her head yes. 

“Yeah, but what’re you doing?” She is speaking in that frenetic tone, the one she usually uses when she’s eager to make a point. So you decide to speak calmly, if only to bring some sense into the conversation. 

“I’m heading to Edd’s, I finished his essay and he has Hellfire. He told me I could stay in his room so I can keep working on homework. So I’ll already be there for pizza night once you and Steve get there.” 

“You do realise how that sounds right?” Her words were coated with honey, making you raise an eyebrow at her. She took your silence as a response and continued talking. “You’re practically dating.”

“Fuck off.” You warned. Cheeks burning red, your teeth biting the inside of them. 

“Oh come on dude!” She pleaded now, punching your arm as you turned left. “You obviously like each other! You do his homework, always try to be near him, laugh at every single one of his stupid jokes, you let him take care of you and you look at him as if he's the answer you can’t find in your books.” 

She runs out of breath by the end, looking at you, needing you to realise what everyone already has, but you just stay the same. A vacant stare through the windshield as the car slowly stops. 

“Robs…” There’s a sliver of pain in your voice. “As much as I’d like that to be true, it can’t be.” You shake your head as you take your backpack so she can leave the car. 

“It is true though…” 

“Maybe.” You add with a shy smile. “But I can’t have that in my head now.” You add, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You want it to be true?” Robin asks with hopefulness clear in her voice, her eyes gleaming at the possibility. 

“Yes.” You admit not only to your friend, but to yourself. 

-

Meanwhile, Dustin had a very similar approach. He had followed Eddie closely to his van, screaming for him to wait, and reminding him that he promised a ride to his house, since Gareth would drive him back. Eddie agreed, with a snarl as he opened the passenger door. The van was old, and it needed a stronger approach for it to actually open and close, the windows never closed all the way and a vague smell of weed always emanated from the back. 

“Who’s coming to today’s session?” Dustin questions with a very openly hidden intention. 

“Uh, Mike, Gareth, Lucas, Jeff, Erica I think and uh… Angel.” He added your nickname last, with a soft grin appearing in his face as soon as it leaves his lips. 

“She’s playing?” 

“No, no. She’ll just hang out in my room, we’ve got pizza night with Robs and Steve” 

“Your room?” 

“Yeah” Eddie brushes it off, as if it is no big deal, as if it meant nothing. Dustin was staring with daggers in his eyes. 

“Dude…” 

“What?” 

“Oh. Come. On.” Dustin overly enunciates every word, his eyes opening wider with every syllable. “Did you ask her to? You know what, it actually doesn’t matter, you’re way too thick to even get it. You like like this girl. You make her laugh with every idiotic thing that leaves your mouth, she does everything in her power to help you and you always make time and an effort to be close to her, come on Edward!” Eddie stops the car suddenly, the use of his government name takes him by surprise, even more so than the overly explanation to his unthought actions regarding you and his -apparently- very obvious feelings. 

“You didn’t have to call me Edward.” He tries deeply to change the topic, a bit too embarrassed to actually talk it out. 

“Dude.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He apologises in a defeated tone. “Is it really that obvious?” Dustin nods as they look at each other, the van slowly starting again. “You really think she feels the same?” Dustin nods again. “Fuck.” 

-

It had been weird. 

For both of you. 

Dustin didn’t stop laughing, even if he did try to not make it obvious. 

The way he opened the door didn’t follow his usual routine. He didn’t tease you, he didn’t mess with your hair or make fun of you for obsessively positioning your shoes by the entrance. 

Instead, his voice shook a bit when he opened the door, the sound of your name in a raspy whisper you never had heard from him before. Instead a small conversation with a pleasant tone erupted, a very mechanical “hi” “hi” “you can wait in my room, shout if you need anything” before he sprinted off, his face red. 

You were left by yourself, inside his messily organized room. All of his black thick cords were neatly and carefully wrapped, yet left on a corner of his room right by his dresser. You also noted the half empty ashtrays on his table, the one he wanted you to use, and the faint smell they left. The array of magazines stacked by the foot of his bed, ranging from cars and mechanical magazines, gracing through music and a half hidden obscene one. He had various photos, drawings, drabbles and lyrics written on different pieces of paper glued to his walls. Corroded Coffin’s flyers, photos he had taken up on the lake, him smiling while he posed with the band, him concentrated in the middle of a D&D session. Right by his bed, there was a sunny day one. You remember that day, it was last summer, and you decided to walk through the woods in search of a cool spot, somewhere that would only be known by the both of you. You found that little pond, and you stayed there for hours, looking at the small frogs, collecting flowers for your room and singing songs he was obsessed with. You sketched a bit while he took a picture of you, peaceful, perfect, undisturbed you. You felt yourself smiling when you realised he had the drawing right next to it, a small heart had been added with black ink. 

You tried to concentrate on the remaining homework you had left, but you kept getting distracted, your eyes subconsciously landing on that photograph. 

With Robin’s words still ringing in your ear, you still didn’t know what to do, or what to feel. 

Eddie’s weirdness hadn’t helped. 

You usually spoke to him when you needed help to understand yourself, he usually did that better than you anyway. You started to realise how much of that was true, he always seems to know exactly how to calm you down when you have a million things going over your head at the same time, even the times you're not conscious about it, he does it. And it is quite simple. It's just a touch. The coldness of his rings finds your skin, leg, arm, neck; it doesn't matter. His hand lays on top of your skin and his fingers just hold you, a bit firm, right before moving softly. That is all it takes. You’re grounded again, and you know you’re safe, because he is there. And if Eddie is there, and if he is that close to you, nothing can be wrong. 

This feeling stays with you now. 

nothing can be wrong

You’re in his bedroom, because it’s full of him, every single thing he owns and loves is inside, and it smells of him. The freshly burned sandalwood that impregnates every piece of clothing he owns, in a desperate attempt to hide the cigarette smoke that you’ve grown to love. Candles have been blown out right before you came, the rim of them still burned. You can feel his panic, he must’ve gone through the room whilst Dustin was right behind him, and if you know something about that, Dustin must have been giving him the exact same speech Robin did to you. 

The carefulness that he had put out in making sure you were comfortable, because he is well aware of how much you despise being on such a big house by yourself, and the hard time you have concentrating and remembering to take care of yourself was clear now. He keeps inviting you to hang out, he keeps asking you to come over and there’s always food and drinks out for you, all so you don’t have to think about it. Because he cares. 

he cares. 

Nothing can be wrong, he cares. 

You are starting to wonder if that caring is the same kind of care you feel for him. 

You can’t really remember a time you haven’t known him. You can’t imagine your life without him if you’re being honest. That scrawny young boy with a buzzed head that was starting to learn how to play guitar had grown right beside you. You remember after school hours where you taught him how to play the guitar, and how he now tries to get you to play with him, even if he knows you’ll say no since you’ve got a new project or a new essay that needs a few tweaks. Wade will tease him, telling him how he needs to be more like you, but you’ve always dismissed it. 

You like being there for him, you like it when he asks for help with a paper he doesn’t quite have the energy to finish, you like it when he needs help with the final details of his campaign, you like it when he asks for your opinions in his lyrics because “I trust your mind more than I do mine”, you like it when he asks you to cut your hair with a big dumb smile in his lips… His lips, you think I also like his lips. 

Without really thinking, you abandon the homework, letting your body crumble into his mattress. The smell of his shampoo is intoxicating. You had made fun of him when you saw “amarath and jasmine shampoo” in his shower, but he had said that “those curls are expensive, darling” you giggled at the memory. Your eyes closed remembering the smile he had on his lips while he teased you back. his lips. 

You can’t seem to focus on anything else. They always looked pinker in real life than in your memories, not cracked but smooth. Everytime they said your name, some part of your skin bloomed with goosebumps, your heart skipped a bit, just to relax right after. They had the warmest smile and sang the most angelical laugh you had ever heard. Speaking of song, his voice when he had a mic in front of them was truly out of this world. 

It has to be true, you think at this moment this has to be what love feels like. 

You could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of it. That vulnerability was a different kind to the one you were used to share with him. 

It scares the fuck out of you. 

And yet, a sense of relief invades you.

You feel like you need to tell him, you’ve always shared your secrets with him, what’s one more?

Not now, you think, Hellfire’s still running. 

Your hand flings above your head, you want to scratch your own head, wanting to sooth yourself, instead, you find your fingers hitting the cold surface of his old acoustic guitar. 

The once light brown wood surface was not badly painted with black acrylic paint, and a faded sentence you could no longer read in chipped white paint. You smile at yourself, picking it up instead. 

You’re not really thinking, if you were you wouldn’t have started playing meaningless chords. 

You’re thankful you’re not thinking. 

You had forgotten how easily it calms you down, your fingers playing with the strings, whilst your brain thinks about playing with his tangled hair. 

It’s easy. It’s like breathing. 

You don’t really know how long it’s been. You just know you’ve started to play guitar and nothing else matters, you’re in love with him and nothing else matters. 

Eddie knows something has changed as soon as he reaches his door. 

You usually studied in silence, murmuring to yourself, repeating your notes aloud. As soon as he hears the soft strummings of his out of tune guitar he knows something has changed. 

He is hopeful that maybe you have realised what he had earlier. 

While he was cleaning his room with Dustin beside him, he was just telling him obsessively why you are such a great person, and why he’s so afraid to lose you to something so stupid like love. He had said that you are not only a good friend to him, but to everyone, you're empathetic and unbelievably kind, you make him feel like a warm shower after rain had left him drenched, you were the most beautiful soul he knew, inside and out. And it scared him shitless that you might not feel the same. 

But now, as he carefully opened his bedroom door, he could see you were smiling as you graced the strings, soft and calm notes escaping from the old guitar. Your perfume was mixed in the air, and he felt that flutter in his stomach. 

He walked slowly, not wanting to interrupt. 

You smiled as soon as you felt his eyes on you. 

His hand laid on your thigh. That touch. That nothing can be wrong touch. 

“You’re playing guitar.” He whispers, his breath brushing your cheek. You look back at him, your fingers still messing with the strings. You lock eyes, his pupils expand as soon as you look at him. You feel as if your heart was about to explode, wanting to communicate too many feelings at the same moment. 

“I taught you how” You whisper back. Stoping the notes so he could hear your voice, clearer. 

“Don’t stop.” He pleaded, his tone sounding more like a whimper. “I haven't heard you in years”

“Eddie.” You feel the shakiness in your voice, and so must he, as he tightens the grip on your thigh. “I…” 

“What?” 

“I think I may be in love with you.” It just slips out. So naturally, so casually. As if you’ve said it a million times before. As if it is no big deal. 

“What?” He asks again, his eyes widening, his heart beating faster. He can’t quite believe your words. Even if they are now forever engraved into his brain. 

You let go of his guitar, your fingers now playing with his hair, which is all they want to do. 

You find that one of your hands has found the back of his neck, and it pushes his lips against yours. 

They feel even better than you have imagined. And it’s natural, it’s as easy as breathing, as carefree as a bird flying. It is what it should be. 

His lips pressed against yours fit like the perfect puzzle they are, and his free hand is now under your chin, holding you closer so he can taste as much of you as he can. 

It feels like heaven. 

It’s a confirmation. 

It a I’m in love with you, and the response I am too. 

You don’t really need anything else, so you stay exactly like that for a long time, enjoying each other with no rush, with a calmness and a stillness that is unbecoming of both of you, who always seem to be in a rush. 

“I feel safe with you, and I always want to be next to you. Nothing else matters.” You whisper once you break the kiss, your eyes closed as you press your forehead against his. 

“Nothing else matters.” He whispers back. 

He can’t help but chuckle a bit, now that he gets to kiss you every time he wants to, now that he knows you feel exactly as he does. 

Deeply, truly, madly in love with each other. 

The smile on both of your faces and the knowing glances now have a different meaning, and it is obvious that something has changed, yet nothing hasn’t. There was love before, now it has just been declared.

-

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

[neilsbeloved]

practice on me

summary: the one where you make excellent use of clark kent’s luscious lashes and incredible fingers

warnings: 18+ pure smut, established relationship, all legal aged characters, fingering, love bites, dirty talk, reader’s kinda a bitch to people aside from clark, semi-public sex (unlocked door), overstimulation, no use of y/n

It all started as a genuine way to let you get off some steam; you called Clark, ranting and raging all the way from the Talon after that one girl in your class came there only to piss you off.

You needed to hear his voice as soon as possible or else you would have thrown the whole coffee machine at her.

The moment he registers that tone of yours, he knows he needed to get you. Thankfully it was just thirty-minutes left 'til the end of your shift so he dashed to the back of the Talon. He couldn't take the truck since his parents were out of town for their anniversary.

Your shift ends and both of you head back to his house. Clark, being the concerned boyfriend he is, kept on pestering you about what happened. Knowing full well that there is something angering you even more considering how you were still brimming with rage.

A little bit of persuasion and bartering, you two finally agreed on something: you'll tell him everything, and he'll let you practice your mascara routine on his eyelashes.

So there you both now, on the couch of the Kent living room. You straddling his lap, only having on his shirt and some random boxers he had thrown you. Barely paying attention to the television playing some random football game at back.

Clark sports an amused smile as you grab his face, slotting his chin on the web between your thumb and pointer finger, tilted his head slightly up to get a better look at his eyelashes. One big hand resting on your hip, while the other was gently rubbing your bare thigh.

He had just gone through the torture of eyelash curling with that medieval tool you call eyelash curler. Inside his head, he's blaming the tool for nearly poking his eye out despite you being the one handling it—of course, he would never blame you for anything.

"See, I wouldn't care if she came by the Talon. Who cares? More money for the business—but get this, she literally kept following me like a damn dog with a bone. Me, I was the bone, Clark! She kept following me!" You let out exasperatedly. Waving your mascara around.

Clark chuckles, "Maybe she just wants to be friends with you."

"I don't want to be friends with her!" You reply back with irritation. The scowl on your face going even deeper as you remembered her bothering you when you were just trying to work.

"You don't want to be friends with anyone, baby." Clark says softly.

You glare at him. He always calls you baby at times like these where you're too heated up to think about anything else aside from picking apart someone until they're basically stripped and humiliated. He knows it flusters you, thus helping you calm down.

"Woah, easy there with the weapon." Clark cautiously holds your wrist. You had just taken out the wand from the tube, the extra product piling on the tip of the wand.

"I have people I want to be friends with, for your information." You say with an attitude. Lips pouting as you begin to swipe the first layer of mascara on his left eye.

Clark raises an eyebrow, "Really?"

You nod. Your forehead creases in concentration, ignoring the way his other hand went up to your hips too. Both of his hands now squeezing the flesh in a loving manner.

"And Jessica isn't one of those people?" The name of that girl from your class rings in your ears. You pull your hands away, making a move to fully withdraw from his lap when he pulls you back in with a teasing laugh.

He grabs the make-up bag from your hand and places it back beside him. "I'm just playin', baby. I know you hate Jessica. I hate her too." He pushes your hips closer to him, your core running against the semi-hard surface of his lap.

"You hate her?" You scoff indignantly. "Can't believe the Clark Kent, Smallville's nicest guy, the one who saved countless of people, hates a girl he hasn't even met."

Clark's hands removes themselves from your hips and moves to the top of your thighs. Moving them up and down, slowly moving closer and closer to the hem of your—his—shorts.

"Yeah, well, my baby hates 'em so I automatically do too." Your breath hitches. His hand sliding in the insides of your shorts to massage your cheeks over your panties.

Heat starts pooling in your core. The sensation hindering you from smoothly applying the same coat on his right eyelashes.

"What else bothers you, baby? Just that girl?" He furrows his eyebrows, the jut of his lips beckoning you to continue.

You swallow down on nothing. Inhaling sharply as you slot the wand back in its component only to swirl it around and get more product. When you pull it out, you feel his hands leave your shorts.

"T-There's this guy in Chemistry," you start. You lick your lips and decide to rest your free hand on his shoulder instead. "Damn know-it-all. He keeps on reciting in class. The teacher doesn't even notice me with how loud he keeps calling—Clark."

His hand daringly slides in the waistband of your shorts. Snaking directly to your panties and cupping your core. His fingers immediately playing with the wetness he's met with.

"What? Go on, baby. Tell me more. I'm listening." He rubs sweet soft circles on your bud. The feeling makes your hips twitch and your hand still. You only continue when he pinches your outer thigh with his other hand.

You let out a low and breathy moan. Doing your best to avoid giving him the satisfaction of not being able to finish your work on his eyes. And so with a steadying breath and will-power to prove him wrong, you continue swiping layers of mascara on his lashes.

"I can't participate in class because of him. He's stealing... steal-stealing my... my credit points," you stammer. Head dropping down to look at his hand inside of your shorts as he has just inserted one thick finger inside of your cunt.

When you look back up, Clark's smirking at you.

"Clark, we're in your living room." You say lividly. Head snapping to glance at the locked—or unlocked, who knows—door.

Clark looks around with faux innocence. "So? Why don't you continue your work baby. C'mon. Keep going." He curls his finger upwards, lips stretching wider when you mewl out deliciously. Your hips involuntarily jerking.

You do the same routine of putting the wand back in and twirling it inside for some product. This time you move to his other eye. Gripping the wand tightly as you try to gather as much control as you can, trying to ignore the pleasure he's giving you with just a singular finger.

Your words of hatred to that guy in Chemistry spills out continuously albeit stopping and stammering at times. Clark inserts another finger, the stretch of his middle and ring finger inside your pussy making you moan out this time. His name leaving your lips like a broken plea.

"Oh shit, you're tightening up on my fingers, baby," he chuckles darkly, "All that anger got you so frustrated huh? My pretty baby's so fucking frustrated?" He moves forward to lick a stripe up your neck. Sucking on your favorite spot

"God—Clark, you're so irritating." You whimper, ryes rolling back. Unable to stop yourself now that you're fully riding his fingers. His other hand rubbing circles on your clit. All the sensations you're feeling at one making your head dizzy.

Clark laughs. "You hate me now too?"

He continues his attack on your neck. Nipping and licking at various spots. Not caring whether or not it'd blossom to a pretty bruise the next day. The pace of his fingers quicken when he hears that hitch in your breath. Curling them at the perfect angle as he hits your spot with practiced precision.

"You-You're not letting me work. I—fuck, right there, please. Clark, don't stop—More!" You cut yourself off mid-way with a wanton gasp. Mouth falling open as your eyes flutter shut. Your hips stuttering as you continue to ride his fingers to your climax.

Clark pulls his head away from your neck to look at the pleasured strain on your face. His canines making an appearance as he takes in the concentrated look on your face, eyes glued on the way your eyebrows furrowed upwards.

"Right here, baby?" He shifts his fingers in the subtlest angle. Your breath quickens. "And more too? Aren't you a greedy little baby." He inserts a third finger and you're done for.

Stars appear in your vision. The thin string holding you together finally snaps and you release all over Clark's hand. Riding out your high on his fingers—and you're sure it's dripping down that veiny forearm of his—as he helps you get through it. Mumbling sweet nothings in your ear as you let out screams and whimpers of his name.

Clark places soft kisses all over the column of your neck as you slowly drift back down onto Smallville. Tired eyes fluttering open only to see him grinning like a little shit.

He keeps his fingers inside of you while his other hand slips out of your shorts to massage your side.

“I didn’t get to finish your eyes!” You complain, glancing at the wand and component on your hands. You place the two together, about to unscrew them again when you feel Clark’s fingers move. again.

Your head shoots up in alarm. Clark licks his lips, the look on your face making his cock even harder than it was before.

You place both hands on his wrist, mascara dropping from your hands. “Clark.” You say as a warning.

“What?” he asks quietly, letting you hear the squelching of his fingers inside you. “You’re still not finished with your story and my make-up, baby.”

A distraught groan leaves your lips, mouth falling open again. Your lower stomach tightening as you clench involuntarily on his fingers. “H-how can I when you’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?” Clark tilts his head.

You close your eyes, finally letting go of his wrist after your feeble attempt at stopping him. You swing your arms around his neck, burying your head on the crook of his neck as he picked up the pace.

“God, just shut up—please.” Clark smiles victoriously as you finally surrender your whole self to him. Head empty with nothing but the pleasure in between your legs and the man in front of you. “Don’t stop.”

He cranes his head to yours, pressing a peck on your cheek. “Atta girl.”

hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✸

[writerfish]

my heart beats for you, but i don't tell you that. [ scroll & quill, fantasy!au ]

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

The house stood at the edge of the cliff, as early summer winds slithered through the cracks of the open windows, the fresh, salty smell from the sea something you learn to grow accustomed to the longer you stay in the village.

It was an old house, but it was certainly treated with love. The wooden floors creaked, but never once broke in. The windows made a slight rattle when the wind was heavy, but the glass was crystal clear, reflecting the deep blue hues of the sea.

From the upstairs window in the bedroom, you could see where the waves crashed against the rocks, the sight of ships passing by occasionally able to be seen like it was nothing, smaller children running across the sand without a care in the world.

He'd rub his eyes, desperate for a warm soak in the bath.

It wasn't long, but it was a bath he much needed after the long walk here – when he'd gotten dressed, he glanced around and looked at the empty bed beside his. Quill had seemed to already have left.

The walk to the village was short, the path winding between other homes and the small forts made out of sticks by the local children. He stepped onto the main path, and at that moment, he felt it.

He felt the warm, comforting feeling of the sun wrapping its arms around him in a welcoming manner, the sweet smell of bread filling up his nostrils with such ease – he'd smile at the thought of fresh bread for breakfast, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up a little bit more than he currently was – a small yawn slipping past his lips.

Loud barking could be heard in the distance as he made his way to the bakery, a large shepherd dog excitedly jumping up at the man, attempting to lick at his face – which he allowed with a smile, beginning to laugh at the gesture.

“Hey there, Eris,” His hand reached out to pet her fur, moving up and down as she moved around. She'd soon begin to circle him eagerly, panting with what he could only see as pure joy.

Footsteps would soon turn from quiet to very loud, and Scroll would look up for a moment to see who it was that decided to approach – though, by the dog, he should've been fully aware from just that alone.

“Good morning,” he began, “you took your time.” Quill’s expression wasn't any different to what it usually was – Scroll learned that very quickly – along with how flat his tone could sound despite whatever situation they were in.

“I did?” He furrowed his brow at the thought. Maybe it was just because Quill had woken up earlier than he had, but he didn't think he'd taken long to have a wash and get dressed, did he?

Then again, when he really thought about it..

He had been fooling around with the various things that Quill had in his bathroom, despite being told the night before to not touch anything that seemed worth of value – or he'd really be in for it. Scroll pursed his lips at the memory of this morning, but he chose to keep quiet about that until later.

“You did.”

“Sorry. Just not used to a new village, is all,” Scroll would awkwardly shrug his shoulders at the other, who didn't reply to what he'd said – turning on his heel to walk towards the forest opening, Eris following behind.

I suppose that means no breakfast, then?

He frowned at the idea.

They'd only made the temporary stop at the village because it was the closest place on their journey – unfortunately for Scroll, he thought they'd be staying longer. But he should've known Quill's thinking process by now: straightforward and quick. He didn't like to waste time gallivanting when he knew there were more important things that needed to be dealt with, especially when he had Eris.

For now, he kept his peace. Though the forest is filled with overgrown greenery and pathways that seemed to never end, he doesn't feel any different to how he would back at home. Something about the familiar site of trees towering over the three of them made him feel safe, reminding him vaguely of where he would camp out. He wondered if there were any open areas, where a campfire could be lit for warmth – Scroll figured there's not much point in wondering about something that had yet to happen on their trip.

He carried a book that he'd taken from the old market a few days before in his hands, and skims through the first few pages. Old tales for children were plastered onto the pages, pictures scribbled on the right hand corner of them all – he found the drawings to be inaccurate and absurd, rolling his eyes at the watered-down re-telling of each tale. It just seemed unfair to leave out all the important details of each story, and leave the younger folk with the little bits and scraps.

But, what did he know? He wasn't the one writing these, after all.

His relationship with books was somewhat strained nowadays. His childhood was filled with him constantly attempting to read as many books as possible to satisfy his parents, despite his peers finding it somewhat odd, or rather, they found the idea of being around someone like him odd.

Quill turned his head, staring at him in silence – his arms were crossed over his chest, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Intimidation was what usually rested in his gaze, but for now, it was something different – something harder to decipher when it came to him.

He turned his head back around, facing forwards. What Scroll was doing wasn't any of his concern, and he told himself that constantly, unless he was getting into trouble. Then, it became his business.

Though, sometimes, he wanted to make it his concern.

The forest was so, so, serene in the night. Soft sounds of the stream not so far could be heard, moonlight peeking through gaps in the leaves of each three, fireflies illuminating the path clearer than ever before. Leaves rustle with the breeze, light and gentle, while the wind howls loudly, but the woodland animals know that they aren't in any danger – there are no wolves lurking around in this forest tonight, and they knew that.

Fire crackles loudly, sparks burning into the air with a pop, the smoke curling with the patter of the wind – and for once, something about sitting here with him doesn't feel hostile, and feels rather calming compared to the atmosphere usually – it wasn't tense and rough, there were no arguments to go along with it. Just the sweet sound of silence as they sat in the woods.

The hour is late, though, they don't know how late it is exactly. By the dark hues of the sky and the calming shine from the stars above, they had all right to assume it was past midnight. They'd chosen to camp out for the night, instead of continuing any further ahead.

Scroll had his back pressed against the trunk of a tree. His head up towards the sky, eyes closed – letting himself sink into the feeling of contentment – before opening his eyes once again, gaze darting towards the campfire, where Quill was. His gaze lingered longer than it had in a while, before soon drifting over towards Eris, who was curled up just next to their bedrolls, sound asleep.

When he looked back, Quill had disappeared.

Wandering off again, he thought – it wasn't anything unusual for him to go wandering off and come back early in the morning – that's just how Quill seemed to be, leaving without a word. But when he heard the sound of water sloshing, he figured that the other hadn't travelled too far away, and was taking a bath instead.

Scroll figured Eris would be fine on her own for a little while.

Quill's hand splashed into the water, cloth clutched between his fingers as he mumbled a string of complaints to nobody but himself, brows threaded to no ends as he lifted his hand out, running the wet rag over his face – water slowly dripping down his neck, then his torso and so on – he was much more happy to get all the sweat and grime off his body if anything; it had been poking at his skin like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

He splashed water onto his arms, watching as the grime slowly fell off – his expression not changing once. His head was all over the place, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. He wasn't sure what these feelings he felt towards his fellow adventurer were, but he knew that they were bugging him more than anything, shaking his head and muttering a profanity under his breathe as another thought crept up on him.

The sound of footsteps made him pause, narrowing his eyes slightly at the fact that he knew it was most likely Scroll. If it were Eris, he would've heard her barking before she'd even taken the time to arrive at the body of water. The dark-haired man turned his head, only his head, and his suspicion was right – stood just near the edge of the water, was the blonde, towel over his waist – as if he wanted to bathe as well.

“I can wait,” He'd say, looking at the other, who was knelt in the water, feeling an awkward smile threaten to grace his lips – as hard as he tried to fight it back, it ended up winning anyway.

“You just came to watch me bathe? Is that it?”

Scroll splutters. “No, I–”

“I’m not going to get out for a while,” Quill responds, turning his head back around, “you might as well just get it done right now.”

Casting his eyes to the floor, Scroll sets down his towel, entering the water in silence – he didn't see the need to talk during something like this. There was something intimate about sharing a bath with another person, but he wasn't sure what exactly it was that made it feel that way.

“You're not going to talk? If I'd known better, you'd usually have something idiotic to ramble on about.” Quill grunted out, splashing water onto his face once again. He hadn't bothered to turn and face the other, continuing to wash himself, but his quip didn't go unnoticed.

“What I have to say isn't idiotic,” Scroll began, “it's actually quite important, if you took the time to listen to me.”

He ignored what Scroll had said.

Scroll's gaze wandered over his face – when he didn't have his glasses on, he could actually see Quill's face properly – he had these warm, hazelnut coloured eyes which felt inviting despite the person who they were on, as if wanting you to come in and make yourself at home. Scroll would purse his lips momentarily, his gaze then focusing on the scruff on his chin.

His hair is greasy and unkempt, but it's a given when you're trailing out here for long periods of time – it's in need of a cut and a wash, while his eyes are sunken and slightly puffy from a lack of sleep. It wasn't like he neglected his needs or himself, he just never found the time to properly take care of himself like he should've out here.

“You're filthy, Quill,” Scroll would point out to the other, not bothering to hold back with his words. Because it was the truth, is why. He didn't know why he did it, but slowly, his hand reached out towards the razor he'd brought, the free one turning his jaw to face him.

“Lean forward, or.. maybe, sitting down would be easier.”

Quill didn't say a word. Normally, he would've protested to Scroll even putting a hand on his face, but recently, things felt different – he couldn't even be bothered to tell him not to touch him, or to shut up, it just didn't come out – his throat felt tight every time he tried.

He'd sit down infront of the blonde, silent as a mouse, watching as Scroll lathered soap between his hands, lightly massaging it into Quill's jawline with a concentrated look. He's focused on not nicking his skin with the razor, the two of them making eye contact; but all Quill sees is a face full of focus.

His head is turned to the side, a hand keeping his jaw straight, firm grip. His hand soon moves to make room for the blade, as it glides down his skin – Quill can't help but hate the fact he was enjoying the moment, being submerged into the water with someone caring for his hygiene.

He furrowed his brows at that thought.

His eyes would flutter open for a bit, just to admire Scroll as he worked. When he was up close like this, he could really see the features that made the blonde’s face pop – the long scar against his nose, the olive of his eyes, something Quill found attractive, even if he'd rather die than admit it to himself just yet.

The rosy red of his cheeks, to the tongue sticking out of his lips to show he was concentrating on the task at hand – the stray strands of hair which fell out of his ponytail and onto his face – it was all so captivating to Quill. He told himself he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he can't help but like the feeling more than he let on.

“I'm finished.” He'd hum, setting the razor down on a nearby rock. He'd look at his work, and felt rather proud, moving his hand away from where it had been resting, leaving Quill alone now. “But your hair is still.. eh, whatever that is.” He motioned with his hands, not quite sure what word would be fitting.

“I know that.” He'd respond, not bothering to look him in the eye. He wasn't sure if his cheeks were red, but he knew the tips of his ears definitely were – they were hot, and he wanted to drown at the pure idea of Scroll being the reason behind it.

“Whatever you say. Just.. let me wash it, or something."

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

tags :: [ @zeeposting , @cloudstongue ]

[frmisnow]

play pretend ! 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ nsfw.

the premise of fake dating your best friend, for just a weekend, is hilarous.. and scary. but what happens after is even scarier.. it's just play pretend right?

warnings / includes — vulgar language, drinking, multiple orgasms, pussy eating

you blamed being way to drunk and jungkook for this situation. it was all his damn fault.

if he hadn't looked at his phone with that stupid look in his face, rolling his eyes at the bright message on the screen. if he hadn't leaned over to your ear, barerly managing to stand due to the beer in his system, groaning about his mom asking him about getting a serious relationship once again. if he hadn't looked at you with those damned kicked puppy eyes that he only ever pulled out when it came to you, asking — no, begging, if you could pretend to be his girlfriend for just two days, a weekend.

for the family reunion in a week.

you had pushed him away, then pulled him back to hold onto him in order to not stumble onto the nearest dancing stranger close to you, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of his request.

you and him, a couple? nobody would believe that. like ever, especially his mom.

the mom who watched you not move a single muscle at the sight of him shirtless back when you both vacationed at their summer house, in what? junior year? the mom who watched you crush on jungkook's best friend, right in front of her eyes.

no, never would she ever believe that there was anything more then platonic feelings between you both.

but again, you couldn't quite say no when jungkook held your hair up as you puked, about an hour later. not when he gave you water, rubbed over your back in an attempt of giving you some sort of comfort during your nausea.

and you felt bad for him: you knew that jungkook and love didn't really go hand in hand, hell- everybody did. he never stayed around long enough for anything to even scratch the surface of love. you liked to imagine that he wanted it, you see the way he looks at other couples at parties, the ones that are all up in eachother faces, not in a sexual manner just like a safe space.

real, lasting, consuming love? he didn’t seem capable of holding on to it. never changed his ways, he was transparent on how long he planned on staying (which was usually a night) and that was it.

that didn't stop his mother though.

jungkook complained about it often, about how she couldn't stop comparing him to his sister. the sister who married a year ago, already has a child on the way. 'why couldn't he just be a bit more like her taking things more serious n' everything.' is something she said right to your face once when you were talking.

you knew it hurt him, more then he showed, the fact that he simply wasn't good enough. in every way, really.

well, according to his mom.

so you quietly mumble a "fine" as silence filled his living room when he sets up the uno cards on the floor, it's about 4am now. you were to restless to sleep, the loud music still thumping in your head, a little bit of an after taste of your vomit still sitting somewhere.

he didn't say anything, which was strange since he usually was so snarky. just grabbed your shirt, forcing you to sit down on the carpet with him, just muttering something about him 'winning this shit'

if you had to summarize the night, it would've been that he won two rounds.

the coming saturday was hell.

hot, burning hell — in the regard that jungkook touched you absolutly everywhere, and all that in front of his family too.

intertwined your hands at the dinner table where you had to hide a grin, slapped your ass when you helped his mom with kimchi, traced faint circles on your clothed hip when his dad showed you both the new truck he bought.

well, it wasn't just his family. there was somebody else who came, un announced to the both of you.

sooyoung, or better known as his ex.

sooyoung and jungkook were complicated. way more then that, sooyoung wanted something serious, asked to move in with him after like two months (which was the longest time you've seen him be with anyone romantically). it freaked him out and it all resulted in this huge fight, she didn't say the best things about him during it and he- too, of course.

you knew her and his sister were somewhat close but this much? she hadn't even been at the wedding.

but they seemed to be at the hip, and if they weren't, sooyoung was somewhere lurking, studying the both of you, hair short, nails long, lips always glossy.

her dresses were short too, reminding of the time where you had to go clubbing with the both of them. oh, how the tables turn.

the club was packed, a familiar chaos that Jungkook and his friends always sought out on weekends whenever he was back in his hometown. you had lost track of how many drinks you’d had, your head spinning pleasantly, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus.

all of a sudden you felt fingers softly digging into your cheeks, holding up your chin to meet the concerned eyes of jungkook, "are you okay?"

you blinked slowly, the world tilting slightly. “yeah, just... feeling a little warm,” you admitted, your voice slurring as you struggled to keep your balance. his brows furrowed, and before you could register what was happening, he was taking your hand and guiding you through the crowd to the bathrooms.

the bathroom door swung open, and he ushered you inside, the harsh fluorescent lights making your eyes squint.

“whoa, bright,” you mumbled, stumbling a little as you sat on the edge of the toilette, your legs spread, mind fucked. jungkook turned on the tap, splashing cool water into his hands before cupping them and splashing it on your face. You gasped, the cold jolting you back to some semblance of clarity.

"better?"

"i want you to touch me."

his hands still hovered near your face, droplets of water slipping from his fingers and onto your collarbone, but you barely registered them.

"wait, what?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching your face for any sign of playfulness. but there was none.

jungkook cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, eyes flicking to the bathroom door as if hoping someone would pull him out of this situation — "you're drunk as fuck." he groans, but the words sound more like he was convincing himself rather than you.

you tilt your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips like a damn slut as you mumbled a 'so what?' “you’re drunk too. doesn’t change the fact you’ve been looking at me all night like you wanted to fuck me, kook. don’t pretend."

the muscles in his jaw twitched, a flush covering his cheeks that wasn't just from the alcohol, "listen, let's just get you some water, okay? you've had way too much to drink tonight."

you had never seen jungkook blush before. and you don't know what's gotten into you, but you want to see it longer.

so your fingers reach out, pulling him closer by his belt, looking up to him, "tell me you don't want me, and i'll close my legs, pretend i'm not wet n' pretend like this never happened."

but he gets on his knees for you, careeses your thighs in a matter that should come of as comforting but just ends up making you wetter, leans forward to press a small kiss onto the bare skin, "i'm gonna get you home now. and you'll sleep and wake up tommorow, well rested. think about it again."

but you don't listen, of course you don't. your legs spread even wider, greedy fingers moving to his hair.

his jaw clenched so hard you thought he might crack a tooth, but then his hands ran up your thighs, the touch feather-light, as though he was restraining himself from touching you like he really wanted to.

"you're making this hard." he whispers between gritted teeth.

if you hadn't been so drunk, you would've seen something else being real hard but you were way to out of it. all your mind could think of was lifting up your hips, in a desperate fashion, anything to show him how much you needed it.

in the following twenty minutes, you come; not once, not twice — three fucking times. after each orgasm he kisses your clit, tells you how pretty you were, how he's gonna take care of you, with fresh release coating his lips.

and right after the third one, your head falls against the head rest, yes shut tightly before you meet his gaze again and the words slip out of your mouth, "fuck, i think i like you."

he pauses, his eyes widening as if you just pulled him out of his very own movie, "what?"

[izzy02soph]

Generals Daughter and her gladiator 🤎🏛️

Hanno/ Lucius Verus x afab! Reader

I own none of these characters except Y/N (if you even want to consider her a character)

——————

Y/N stood amongst the opulence of Senator Thraex's grand party, her eyes scanning the lavish surroundings. The twin emperors, were seated in places of honor, their presence commanding the room, while their whores rubbed themselves desperately against their emperors. But it was the sight in the center of the room that captured her attention—two gladiators were about to fight for the evening's entertainment.

“What are they going to do Aelia?” Y/N asked her friend next to her who was coincidentally Senator Thraxe’s young wife, Aelia

“What does it look like, silly, they’re gonna fight!” Aelia said getting excited

Among them was a fierce looking dark haired man, and an older barbaric gladiator known for his fierce reputation. As the fight started, Y/N watched intently. The dark haired man seemed reluctant, trying to stop the other man, but the crowd's demands and the emperor's orders left him no choice. With a heavy heart and a fierce determination, after minutes of fighting, the dark haired man eventually impaled his opponent, the crowd in the room erupting in cheers. Y/N and Aelia giggling as they clapped, finding entertainment in these fights.

“What a spectacular fight” Emperor Geta said as he finished clapping dramatically and walked over in front of the dark haired man.

“What’s your name, slave.”

The silence in the room was deafening, so silent you could hear your guards breathing.

“Hanno is his name, Caesar. He only speaks his native tounge, Caesar” Macrinus the stable master said as he reassured him.

The emperor hummed as if he was thinking of what to say next. Finally, the dark haired slave spoke up.

“The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.” He said with a smug look.

“So Hanno is a poet, too” Geta said while chuckling dryly.

“Geta don’t be rude” Caracalla said in a joking manner as he sat up in his seat. All his jewelry clanked as he moved.

For a split second Hanno looked over trying to regain his composure, eyes landing on Y/N

“Can’t wait to see how you are in the arena. Hanno.” Emperor Geta said as he looked at the slave one last time before walking back to his seat

Soon after, the music of the harp started back up. Moved by his internal struggle and the raw power he displayed, Y/N made a swift decision. She turned to her guard and whispered urgently, "I must meet him. Arrange it immediately." The guard nodded and hurried to comply.

______

Soon after, Y/N found herself in the steam-filled bathhouse where Hanno was enjoying his hard-earned reward. He looked up as she entered, jewelry adorning her wrists and her necklace sparkling off the steaming water. His eyes narrowing with suspicion and curiosity. “You’re not supposed to be here" he said, his voice rough and edged with bitterness.

“So he speaks”

Y/N stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "I saw you fight. You did not want to kill him, yet you did. I wanted to meet the man who battles not just with his body, but with his conscience."

Hanno's expression softened slightly, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. "And what do you hope to gain from this meeting? And again why are you here?" His words were still harsh, but there was a hint of something else—perhaps a spark of interest in the boldness of the beautiful lady.

“You heard me the first time” Y/N said, in a challenging tone. She sat down on the ledge of the tub as spoke with a lowered voice. "I want to know where you came from, Hanno. Who you are beyond the fighting. I saw the conflict in your eyes tonight. You're not just a brute for their entertainment."

Hanno's eyes narrowed, though his posture remained relaxed. "You speak with conviction, but words are easy, princess. What makes you think your curiosity will change anything? What makes you think I even want to share my past?"

“You think I’m a princess? So eager to jump to conclusions. Well if it make a difference I’m General Acacius’ daughter. Now you know where I come from” Y/N said trying to read the dark haired man

“You didn’t answer me the first time, why are you here?” Hanno said, eyes darkening as he realized who’s daughter he was talking to

Y/N's lips curved into a smirk. "Because I believe there's more to you than what meets the eye. And because I know what it's like to be trapped by expectations, to have your identity overshadowed by a title. We are not so different, you and I.“ She said as she got up from where she was sitting and got ready to walk out.

“In two days time, when you’re in the arena, win the crowd. They’ll love you” She said smugly before walking out.

______

Two days later, the Colosseum was buzzing with excitement. The gladiator games were set to continue, and the crowd was eager for more bloodshed. The Emperors, Macrinus, General Acacius, Lucilla, and Y/N were all present, watching intently from their seats. All in their noble attire, the emperors gold accessories sparkling in the sunlight.

Hanno and the other gladiators were brought into the arena. As they stood there, Hanno knelt and ran the dirt through his hands, a gesture reminiscent of the late warrior Maximus. This caught Lucilla’s attention, and she recognized Hanno. Y/N, noticing Lucilla’s reaction, leaned in.

“Lucilla, you seem troubled. Are you alright?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.

“I am fine, just... a memory stirred dear,” Lucilla replied, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

The games commenced with a brutal fervor. Hanno and the other gladiators were pitted against the undefeated gladiator Glyceo, who entered the arena atop his fearsome rhino. The battle was fierce and chaotic, with Glyceo mercilessly slaughtering the other men. The crowd roared with approval as the bodies fell, leaving only Hanno standing against Glyceo.

Y/N nervously started twisting her rings around her fingers, praying to the gods they kept Hanno alive.

Hanno and Glyceo faced each other, the tension palpable. Their fight was intense, each strike filled with raw power. Glyceo managed to knock Hanno to the ground. Geta, watching from above, turned his back looking for someone to help him decide

“Y/N, what do you think we should do with him” Geta asked as the arena waited for an answer

“Caesar, show mercy.” Y/N said in an almost pleading tone. Finding entertainment in these fights. Geta pointed his thumb upwards. Giving Glyceo a chance to spear Hanno

“Mercy is for the weak.”

Hanno, refusing to give up, rose to his feet and continued the fight. With a final, desperate effort, he impaled Glyceo, the champion’s eyes widening in shock as the blade was pulled out of his stomach. The crowd fell silent, holding their breath as they awaited the next move.

Geta, maintaining his cruel demeanor, gave the thumbs-down signal. Hanno, breathing heavily and covered in blood, took two swords and, with a swift, cross-like motion, decapitated Glyceo. The head rolled away as the crowd erupted into a mixture of shock and exhilaration.

Y/n watched intently as Hanno stood victorious, his chest heaving, and his eyes wandered to the Emperors box across the arena. The crowd cheering was deafening. He had won the crowd. In that moment, it was clear that the games were far from over.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, knowing that this was only the beginning of a much larger conflict.

______

“Row. Row. Row” The commander said as the gladiators kept rowing, the practice exhausting them, hands aching.

“Ridiculous” Hanno mumbled as the commander walked past him. The commander immediately stopped in his tracks.

“What did you say, slave?”

“I said this is ridiculous” Hanno said staring him down.

“Alright, everyone out. Except you” The commander said.

“You will row until it isn’t ridiculous” the commander said as he grinned evilly as he stood tall, hands behind his back.

“I guess we’ll be here a while then” Hanno said as he started rowing again.

______

After practice, Hanno woke up by a stinging pain in his hand, still seated in the boat. Ravi, the healer, seated in front of him.

"Calm down, Hanno. It is just vinegar" Ravi said, his voice calm and reassuring as he gathered his materials.

As Ravi worked, cleaning and bandaging Hanno's hands, Hanno couldn't help but think about Y/N. The way she had leaned in to speak with Lucilla, the concern in her eyes—it all intrigued him.

"Ravi," Hanno began, wincing slightly as Ravi applied a salve to a particularly deep cut, "Tell me about Y/N."

"Y/N Acacius? General Acacius’ daughter? Why do you want to know?” Ravi said, chuckling as if it was a funny question.

“Well go on.”

Ravi paused for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “There’s not much to it. She's the general's daughter…. But.. never mind.

“What Ravi?” Hanno said, starting to get annoyed.

“There's more to her than what meets the eye."

Hanno's interest was piqued. "What do you mean?"

Ravi continued, his hands moving deftly over Hanno's wounds. "She's a warrior, trained in the arts of combat. But she stopped fighting after the death of her mother and her father's remarriage. People know she knows how to fight, but not many bother for her hand because they know she’s strong and the general’s daughter—meaning she was taught very well in combat."

Hanno absorbed this information, a newfound interest growing within him. "A warrior who set aside her sword... I didn't expect that."

Ravi smiled slightly. "Few do. But y/n is not one to be underestimated. She carries the weight of her responsibilities with grace and strength. You'd do well to remember that. Why do you want to know though, I thought you hated the General."

As Ravi finished tending to his wounds, Hanno felt a sense of admiration and curiosity about Y/N. He realized that there was much more to her than he had initially thought, and he was determined to learn more about the mysterious women who had captured his attention.

______

Y/N was lounging in the tablinum area, her mind drifting aimlessly as she tried to relax. The events of the day had been intense, and she needed a moment of peace. Just then, Lucilla walked in, her face etched with worry and tension.

"Lucilla, what's wrong?" Y/N asked, sitting up straighter. She had noticed Lucilla's troubled demeanor earlier at the games but hadn't had the chance to ask.

Lucilla hesitated, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. But if I tell you, you cannot share this to another soul. And right now only your father knows about this.”

“What troubles you?”

“It's about Hanno... or rather, Lucius." Lucilla says as she finds a seat near Y/N

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Lucius? What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Lucilla began to explain. "Hanno is actually my son. His real name is Lucius. After my brother Commodus was killed by Maximus, I had to send Lucius away to keep him safe. He was and still is the rightful successor, and I feared for his life."

Y/N listened intently, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. "So, you sent him away to protect him?"

"Yes," Lucilla nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "Senator Gracchus helped me arrange to meet with Lucius to tell him the truth about his parentage. He is the son of Maximus. But when I told him, he was furious. He ordered me to leave his cell, angry that I had sent him away and blaming Acacius for Arishat’s death."

Y/N's heart ached for Lucilla. She didn’t know who Arishat was or why he was mad at her father, but she had to figure it out"That's a lot for him to take in. What will you do now?"

"I went to your father," Lucilla admitted, her eyes pleading. "I asked him to help Lucius. He needs guidance and support now more than ever."

Y/N reached out, placing a comforting hand on Lucilla's shoulder. "We'll find a way to help him. He's strong, just like you. We'll get through this together."

Lucilla nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Thank you, Y/N. Your support means everything to me."

Together, they sat in the quiet of the tablinum, the weight of their shared burdens palpable but bearable in each other's company.

______

I hope yall liked it! I got a request from someone to make a story for this, so I did it! Now I know it’s not all comely accurate but I’m working with what I got so take it or leave it! There most likely will be a part 2 if this goes how I want it but let me know if y’all even want a pt 2!🩷