#chris free fire x reader

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

DINE & DASH ───

chris o’doyle 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Deep in my enemy I find the lover.” — ‘The Cid’, Pierre Corneille

pairing. chris o’doyle x waitress!reader

summary. you meet chris o’doyle 3 times. the 1st, he’s got a gun pointed at you. the 2nd, you learn his name. the 3rd, you’ve got a gun pointed at him.

warnings. swearing, guns, mention of death, robbery, shooting

word count. 4k

a/n. i recognize this fic doesn’t actually have any romance in it, so considering the reception i might make a part 2😄 (perhaps with an emotional love confession and fluffy smut :o)

i.

Now, here’s the thing about living in Boston, circa 1978, working at a diner: you’ve gotta buy a gun.

Especially because the shitty diner you work at is downtown. Downtown is utterly fucked at night, where all the doped up creeps, gangsters & prostitutes come out to play.

It’s by an off-chance (off-chance being that your boss was a day drinker who couldn’t handle the diner at night without throwing up) that you work the night shift. 

So, the gun. You don’t know how to use one, buy one, hell, you don’t even know what you’re looking for; you just know you need to buy a fucking gun, because you cannot take any more attempted robberies at the diner. 

(There have been several, at this point, and the only way you’ve avoided having the diner robbed blind is by pretending to be one of those rough-‘round-the-edges folk who could kill someone with a broom if properly motivated. 

Think, the kind of person, who, if faced with a gun in a robbery, would laugh at the colour of your gun and smash your head in with a napkin dispenser.)

One night, you’re coming back to the cashier after refilling all the coffee pots, and a man you’ve never seen before is sitting at the front counter. 

“Sorry ‘bout the wait,” you say, retying your alabaster apron, smoothing down the wrinkles. 

The man - who looked exactly like those rough-‘round-the-edges folk - shakes his head. “No fault to you, girl.” He says, Irish accent curling around his words like a snake. 

“So, what’re you havin’?” You say, lighting a cigarette, reveling in the nicotine-filled rush it sends right up to your brain. 

The man inhales his own cigarette, staring at you intently for a moment. His gaze makes you squirm, running all over your body. It's nothing out of the ordinary for you, to be eye-fucked by a shady creep in the late night, but his attention is laser-focussed, like he could see through you.

“Mmm,” the man broke his silence, and his gaze drifted elsewhere, “d’you got red ale?” 

Your eyebrows lift at the request, but you complied, grabbing a pint and filling it to the brim with the man’s choice of drink. When you hand it to him, he looks as surprised as you do: “What kind of Boston diner sells red ale?”

“You ask, darlin’, you receive.” The pet name is a conscious decision on your part; there’s something about the man that sets alarm bells off in your head, but you can’t place any context, so you try to appease him.

The man looks at you, then the beer, and then shrugs. “Fuck it,” he murmurs under his breath, and downs the whole thing in one. 

You put out your cigarette, resisting the urge to roll your eyes; now, you’d have to fumble around, wait to see if he’d pay & leave or order something else. 

However, he does neither, pulling out a shiny Colt Python from his leather jacket pocket, pointing it at you and cocking off the safety. 

Your heart jumps in your throat, constricting your breathing, and your hands immediately come up. Everything happens so fast, and you can’t really process anything but your fear. 

You consider doing your act, your confident, no-nonsense, rough skank farse, but something tells you he won’t believe it, just shoot you point blank. Those eyes of his, crystalline blue with little to no emotion tinting them, sends shivers down your spine.

“C’mere,” he gestures to you, “‘round the counter.” He’s chewing on the end of his wet cigarette, not having had the chance to pull it out and inhale.

You do as he asks, taking gentle, tentative steps in front of him. You walk carefully, so as not to startle him; make him shoot you.  

“Where’s yer boss?” The man says, running a calloused hand through his brown hair, gun still trained on you. 

You gulped, focussing on breathing properly. “He’s - he does- he doesn’t work the night shift.” You make out in a painful stutter.

The man raised a brow at this, finally pulling out his cigarette and leaving it on the ashtray. “Well,” he looked as if he was weighing his options, “you lot keep a safe in here?”

You nodded vehemently, your throat still clenched in fear. 

“Go on then. Show me.” He waved the gun haphazardly, and you made quick work of the situation: grabbing the store keys from underneath the desk, and skittering to your boss’s office. 

You pushed open the loud, creaky door then you immediately dropped to your knees and unlocked the safe. Inside was a jaw-dropping amount of cash, an amount your boss had conveniently failed to mention was being kept in the store — as well as a cute little Smith & Wesson .38. 

Before either of you could tell what the other was doing, you’d gone in for the kill: he grabbed the cash, you grabbed the pistol. 

Sure, your boss was an absent-minded fuck who always did you dirty by giving you the night-shift, but he was your boss, and a good one at that; he paid you on time, usually never said no to your vacation requests, and was generally well-mannered and kind. To top it off, you knew he had a real large family to feed. 

“Sweetheart, I jus’ want the cash. Yer boss owes us a great deal of debt, alright?” The man said, his own hands in the air now. He had slipped his gun back into the holster that hung by his belt, and he knew just as well as you did that the slightest movement toward that area would have you shooting bullets like a fucking madman. 

Never underestimate someone who was jumpy and holding a gun: they were trigger happy. 

You inhaled and exhaled shakily, your fingers hesitantly brushing past the safety lever. “All of it?” you said helplessly, trying to erase the mental image of how your boss would look later, absolutely crushed that the store, his prized possession, had been robbed. Under your “watchful” eye. 

The stranger considered this, his mustache curling as his face contorted around the idea. “…Most of it,” he settled on, cornflower blue eyes peering past the gun and instead landing on you. 

“Why,” he continued, shifting the weight between his feet, “you wanna dip your toes in the water, doll?”

You recoiled, both at the pet name and the connotation you also wanted to rob your boss, but you knew that if he knew you were just going to give your cut back to your boss, the stranger would come back and rob the store all over again. 

Instead, you nodded curtly. You figured you could finally buy a gun with a portion of the money, so if this stranger ever came knocking ‘round your place, you could satiate his suspicion by pointing a piece at him. 

The man let out a sigh of relief at the compromise reached. “Guns down,” he said, and you dropped your hand to the floor. He didn’t reach for his Colt Python, so you visibly relaxed as well. 

After a few moments of mumbling under his breath and thumbing through the bills, he shoved two thirds of the cash into his leather jacket pockets, then tossed the rest into your trembling hands. 

“Spend it wisely, darlin’. Don’t go buying all the pretty dresses money can afford - you’ll get caught.” With that, the stranger stuffed his pockets with his hands and exited promptly. 

You gulped, beads of sweat trailing down your back and making you squirm — there was no way that just fucking happened, right?

Right? You thought. Jesus fucking christ, you really had to get a better job. A better place to live now, too; the stranger knew your face and your name — seriously, screw the diner waitress name tags meant to make you look approachable — so if you were, at any point in time, considered a loose end, they’d be coming for you next. 

It’s only then, you realize, he never paid for the ale. 

ii. 

The second time you see the stranger is not even two weeks after the diner-robbery incident. 

Following the robbery, your boss gave you time off so he could sort the mess out — as well as his debts, after you told him what the robber told you — and you found yourself with the small bit of cash you portioned off from the safe to buy a gun. 

You followed word of mouth on where exactly to purchase a gun for days, keenly listening in on loose-lipped men who came in too late at night or too early in the morning to even consider the possibility that the sweet waitress who kept butting in to give them a refill could be listening. 

Finally, you entered a bar in anticipation: one of the loose-lipped men mentioned a man who dealt out small revolvers that you thought would do just perfectly for space in your purse, right in that very bar. 

Time was dripping drearily toward midnight, and the wad of cash wedged within the waistband of your flare jeans burned guiltily against you as you searched for the man selling — it wasn’t your money, after all. 

You shook yourself mentally, however, reminding yourself to consider it hush money, or trauma money, for the ordeal you experienced. Then, you spotted the seller who’d been described: average height, lanky, wild brown hair. He was speaking animatedly at the bar counter, silver rings on his fingers gleaming in the dull bar light. 

You slid onto the black, faux leather stool beside him, quietly informing the idle bartender you wanted a rum & coke, before leaning into the ear of the seller. 

“Smith & Wesson, model 36.” you whispered huskily, then promptly preoccupying yourself with smiling at the barkeep and thanking him for the drink. You were a little nervous, getting involved in Boston’s underground crime world, even if it were just for a simple gun purchase. 

The man stopped his storytelling to down his drink — red ale, you noted, brows furrowing at the unexpected nostalgia of last time — and speak to you without turning completely. 

“Straight to business, are we?” He said silkily, and you froze, parsing through your memories to correctly match this voice with that voice— “Name’s Chris O’Doyle, and yes, thank you for “asking”, I can provide you wit’ a beautiful little S&W model 36.”

When you didn’t respond eagerly, in stark contrast to your previous behavior, the stranger from the robbery — Chris O’Doyle, you now knew — turned to face you completely.

“…Well, this is jus’ grand, isn’t it, doll?” Chris said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

“Fuck’s sake,” you blurted out, pinching your nose bridge. “I didn’t— why the fuck are you here?”

Chris raised a tentative brow, “I’ve got my fingers in all kinds of pies, darlin’. Can’t expect a smart Irish man not to, eh?”

“Jesus christ,” you murmured under your breath. You thought you wouldn’t have to see this man ever-fucking again, but as fate turned out, you just did. 

You steeled your nerves: you’d buy the gun. It was just as well to buy it from him, so he could see you weren’t to be messed with. That, and so he wouldn’t go sniffing around for the money you gave back to your boss. 

“I need a —“ You began, but were irritatingly cut off by Chris.

“—Smith & Wesson, model 36. I know, darlin’, I heard ya the first time. Now, let’s get out of here, I can’t just hand the thing over in here,” he said, before pressing himself flush against you and whispering in your ear. “Plus, it’s best you leave: some of the shitstains in here are gettin’ ideas, seein’ a pretty lady like you, all alone.”

Suddenly, Chris got up, and snaked an arm around your waist. “Darlin’!” He exclaimed, sounding drunk out of his mind, “I don’t- don’t wan’ go feckin’ home!” 

“Play along, unless you wanna use that new gun of yer’s on one of the creeps in here later,” He continued sneakily under his breath. 

Begrudgingly, you did as asked, and supported him up, trying to look like a tired wife dragging her dumbass husband back home. “I told you to quit fucking drinking!” you shouted, smacking him upside the head and dragging him by the arm. 

“Christ, woman! Can’t a man jus’ have a wee drink?” 

“Shut the fuck up, you damn headache!” You screeched back at him. 

Okay, you admit: it was kind of fun to shout insulting names at the man who’d been haunting your dreams since that night.

You hadn’t been having the… best sleep, as of late. Always heaving, waking up at ungodly hours after the dream ended with the cold tip of Chris’s gun pressed neatly at your temple, always unable to get back to sleep for fear the dream would continue and you’d be shot dead in it. 

When you and Chris had successfully averted all public eye, exiting the bar and stumbling to a street a couple blocks away where a car was parked, he let up the drunken husband act. 

“Smart of you, y’know,” he informed you absently, leaning into the open window of his car. He continued by rummaging through the vehicle, trying to find the trunk key in his storage compartment.

“Smart of me to what?” you echoed back, looking up and down the street in case someone was walking past or driving by to witness your incredibly shady and conspicuous arms deal. 

“To buy a gun,” said Chris, a certain lilt to his tone that made you know he thought it was the obvious answer. 

“Yeah, well, you made sure of that.” you said with an eye roll. If you sounded comfortable, it’s because you were, at least a little bit. 

In the small timeframe you’d known and spoken to Chris O’Doyle, you figured out three things about him: he was a penchant for the theatrical, if not a little bit of a procrastinator, was plenty lofty, and probably treated customers and friends like pure gold. You knew that if you were buying, he would be on his best behavior, and do all in his power to keep that happening, be it moving the sun, moon and stars — or kill someone. 

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” Chris questioned, brow raised as he slipped out of his car window with the key in his hand. 

You thinned your eyes. “Hm, I don’t know, maybe the fact you threatened me with a gun and robbed me blind has me worried for my safety?

He rounded the vehicle, unlocking the trunk and pulling the heavy metal lid up. “I didn’t rob you blind, sweetheart. I robbed your boss blind. And, the gun’s standard business practice. Protect the messenger, threaten the target, all that.”

You sighed exasperatedly, but ignored him, instead opting to pull the wedge of cash out of your pants. You handed the entire wad to him, then opened up your other hand to receive the revolver.

 “You can count, right? Otherwise, your boss’s been robbed blind for a while.” Chris mocked, a sly grin spreading on his lips while his hand hovered above the trunk full of guns for the weapon of your choice. 

Once he found the gun, you snatched the piece out of his hand impatiently, discreetly tucking it away where your bills had been. “I don’t want any more dirty money on me. Enough to buy this damn gun is all I need.” 

“And a few cigarette packs it seems,” he shot back, clearly noticing the cash you handed him was short of the amount he originally gave you. 

“S’not any of your business what I buy.” You said tersely, then quickly walked off and left him without so much as a goodbye. 

After a second thought: “Now stay the fuck out of my life!” you shouted down the street, turning and not looking back.  

iii. 

The thing about living in Boston, circa 1978, working at a diner is that you’ve gotta buy a gun.

Now, you had gone ahead and bought a gun, but it was only ever supposed to be a precaution. Something you brought to work, or when you went out late at night. 

And, of course you never had to use it: you did have normal, functioning common sense, so you never found yourself in situations where your gun became more than just something taking up space in your purse. 

But with Chris O’Doyle, you found, you threw your common sense — as well as your precaution — straight to the wind. 

It’s late at night, quite similar to all the other times you’d encountered the man, like a certain time of night had him summoned like a fucking demon, and he appears. Right in the middle of the diner, sitting in that same spot he’d pulled out his pistol and robbed you. 

After a while, the incident stopped bothering you - as well as the fact you now owned a fucking gun - but you never did get Chris’s face out of your head, those piercing blue eyes. Said eyes were now staring at you straight, before trailing off, like the fucking criminal was embarrassed. 

You don’t know what exactly was running through your head, but, again, Chris O’Doyle and you equaled common sense and precautions funeral, and you immediately dragged yourself to the breakroom, where you kept your stuff during a shift — including your purse — and you came back out with your shiny, unused Smith & Wesson model 36 gleaming in your hands. 

“Fucking—“ Chris cursed, when he saw you come out with the gun, which was trained on him shakily. “Put the damn gun down! Jesus, d’you even know how to use that thing?”

You bit your lip, deciding not to answer his very valid, very biting question, for you did not know how to use a gun properly. “Just - what the fuck are you doing here, Chris?”

Deep in your mind, a more unbothered part of you wondered why you kept saying that when Chris appeared, like the mustached man was some creep ex who was stalking you. 

“I’m just fucking peckish, girl. This is a diner, is it not?” He exclaimed, like what you were doing was manic and unexpected. 

You stared at him incredulously, reluctantly putting down the hand that held the gun. You’d told him to, paraphrasing, “completely and totally fuck off”. What part of that did he not get?

“The part you don’t get, darlin’, is that I don’t care.” Chris shook his head, and you were so distraught you didn’t register you’d actually said what you were thinking out loud. 

“God forbid you do!” You said, an infuriated laugh coiling around your words. “Order, then please grant me the blessing of never seeing you, ever again. Like I already fucking asked.”

Chris puffed up his cheeks, then blew the air out of them. “Red ale.” he said simply, looking like that was it, before continuing and making you freeze midway between quickly running to the kitchen to grab and fill the glass. 

“And, eh…” he scanned through the plastic menu the diner offered, “a slice of Boston cream pie.”

You smiled at him tensely, hoping he knew it was fake as hell and meant to make him uncomfortable. “Coming right up,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

You thus disappeared into the diner kitchen - though not without first expertly hiding your pistol back in your purse - busying yourself with warming up the slice of pie in the ancient microwave your boss believed to be a holy grail heirloom as it was from his mother. It was loud, took too long, and always made the food too hot — but now, you were reveling in its flaws.

Loud means you didn’t have to hear Chris and whatever the hell he was doing, too long meant you could stall (and, pray he’d get bored and leave), and too hot meant that, later, you could privately make fun of him for burning his tongue, then have to blow on it and look like a little kid. 

When it finished, you haphazardly threw it onto a plate, and filled Chris’s ale just half-way. If he wanted service here, fine, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to get good service. 

Then, you handed it to him with a loud clatter on the counter, startling him out of his chain-smoking stupor. He made a face at your antics, but put out his cigarette and picked up the fork on the plate to begin eating anyway. 

Finally, with having served Chris his stupid pie and stupid red ale, you could count down to the second until you never had to see him again, and you could finally erase him from your mind, forget how his gun felt trained on you, icy blue eyes digging into your spine. 

However, much like you, it seemed an entirely different group of people with a grudge against Chris O’Doyle also threw common sense and precaution out the window when they saw him. 

One moment you were pulling a cigarette out of the sleek, metal case sitting in the pocket of your apron, the next, Chris was jumping over the counter and shouting at you to duck. 

You did as told almost immediately - his tone of voice had grown serious, cold, something you’d only heard briefly the night he robbed the diner. 

Bullets tore through the diner, completely shattering and destroying the glass windows. The shots ricocheted against the walls, making the whole diner shake and feel like it was going to collapse. After a few more minutes of rapid gunfire eating at the building, something flew in from the same direction of the bullets. 

“Good fucking riddance, Chris O’Doyle!” A voice called from outside, Several vehicles could be heard driving away as quick as they came, not even bothering to check if Chris was dead or alive. 

You guessed that they — whoever “they” were — were a confident bunch, but unfortunately for them, Chris was still alive following that clownish display of gunfire. 

Hidden beneath the diner counter, you laid against Chris’s bandy chest, his arms holding him close to you, like he was a kid and you were his prized balloon. One of his hands petted at the crown of your head, almost soothingly, while the other hand fumbled with his signature Colt Python. 

Then, an ear shattering boom exploded from the “something” that was thrown into the building. You supposed it also set fire to quite a few things, for the water sprinklers set off and soaked the entire building. 

For a long moment, it was just you and Chris, laying on the floor beneath the diner counter, sprinkler water soaking you both. Your hands were clenched impeccably tight on his leather jacket sleeve, and his hand had, like on autopilot, begun carding through your locks comfortingly. It seemed to comfort him more than you however, his breathing sounding stilted, and, with your pressed right up against his chest, you knew the situation had shocked him. 

“That happen to you often?” you said, disregarding all questions that were clambering around your head for this softer, more considerate one. 

Sure, the man maddened you to no end, and you still had dreams of him shooting you in the diner or jumping you in the street, but you were human, and he was too. Chris seemed like the kind of man who was inured to all sorts of sick and twisted things, so this event having shocked him surely had to be a large one. 

And so, you knew it was empathy that needed to be used here; you recognized the struggle of a human vulnerable. 

“More than I’d like,” Chris whispered back, his eyes shutting closed, surely replaying the entire situation behind his eyelids. 

You could digest this all later, and he could talk about it later - if he wanted - but for now, it was just you and him in the diner, your voice gentle, his touch shaky. 

[pennyserenade]

picture this | chris o'doyle x reader

summary | there is an american woman, famous for her place in the background of protest photograph, and there is man from the ira. one week of every summer their infamous lives join and they forge a simple something a part from it all. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | ira mention, vietnam war mention, smut, a little bit of an age gap (reader is around 30, chris is 40), friends with benefits, co-workers (?) with benefits, protected sex, fingering, pinv, consensual sex, tender word count | 3.8k a/n | this took way too long to write and i'm sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy it!

Near the middle where the bone protruded on her knee, there was a dainty, thin scar that grew fainter with time. Somewhere–in past publications and museums, in scrapbooks and freshly-printed history books–the scar is being newly formed: she is twenty-two, attending her senior year of college and nothing makes more sense to her than standing up for other people. There is a sign in her hand, uncomplicated in both its design–white board, black lettering–and its demand (PEACE IN VIETNAM). Her youthful face is twisted in pain, her fingers folding the edges of the sign in agony as one knee touches the cement. If the camera had shuttered one second later, you would watch as the other gave way too, and you would see her mouth open wide to let out a scream that would only be masked in the cacophony of other screams.

She is not front in center in the photograph, but near the middle, only captured because of the chance way the bodies moved in that single, precise moment. Behind her is a crowd of soldiers, no older than any of the other students, who will later claim they did not strike first. They will accuse a dusty blond boy who died a week later from injuries he sustained during this photograph. This happened at a college campus she thought she would love forever. Now the degree she got there collected dust in a drawer, and she spent much of her free time trying to do anything that mattered.

Tonight, Chris found she was uncharacteristically romantic, full of cheap, potent beer and the inane idea that because they met once a year and fucked without purpose, that what they did was markedly adult. It wasn’t that she really thought that, but was an easy notion to be taken with; friends she had known in college were getting married and settling down, or already had, and the most consistent relationship she’d had in five years was this annual, week-long endeavor. Of course she knew that what they did was more sophomoric than trying at a real relationship and failing, but she could delude herself into thinking it was more mature on the basis that she did not love him and he did not love her. She told herself because they liked each other intellectually, personally, apart from having sex, it was different:. They had shared interests. He really did think she was clever. When he laughed, the laugh came from some place within him, an innocuous place that did not have coal to burn from in Ireland, but stirred happily back to life with her. When he kissed her, he did it for pleasure. He let her dress and undress herself. He lit her cigarettes the way he did for other acquaintances. When they were at her apartment like this, locked together in the quiet hours of the night, she was unabashed, witty, the least vain and neurotic version of herself.

Chris’ leather jacket hung on the back of a chair in her kitchen, his shoes tucked vertically by the door. His arm sloped over the back of the sofa, hovering near her body but not quite reaching it. In his current state, he looked at perfect ease: dress shirt unbuttoned, the glimmer of his silver St. Christopher’s pendant shining beneath the harsh lighting, a content smile on his face. If one were to glimpse inside her home, one might think he was a permanent resident.

“For a man so supposedly out of touch with the world, that mustache of yours is pretty in vogue, don’t you think?” she teased warmly, nodding towards his mouth. Her beer bottle sweated against the coffee table, without a coaster to protect the wood beneath it.

Growing more comfortable, Chris’ hand moved down, his fingers grazing against her knee. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks almost immediately, and he knew that the touch excited her, simple as it was. She watched carefully as he leaned down, quiet, and pressed his lips to the scar there. It was intimate, too familiar. She was an adult, steady minded, logical, and yet the simple act drove her to wordlessness. This was what a week with Chris always looked like, why she so craved it and feared it: it dizzied her, grounded her in a place that had not ever existed since she was twenty-two. It came back with tenacity whenever he stepped into her life.

Chris had no shame, leveling a satisfied smirk in her direction. He took in the sight of her face, his hand traveling further up her leg, exploring the width of her smooth thigh beneath his hand. She became tense under his touch, taut with anticipation. He nudged her legs apart with a tap of his fingers. Slowly, as if she had never done it before - not for him, not for anyone - she spread them apart.

“That’s right, my girl,” he cooed. Beneath the fabric of his tight slacks, his cock began to stir in interest.

This was a ritual his body knew what was going to happen next–because it always happened next. His pale blue eyes went a shade darker, the pupils widening as he trailed over the insides of her thighs with his fingers. Up close like this, he could smell the perfume on her, a heady, intoxicating scent that he relished as she leaned back on the couch for him. He rose up to her neck, tonguing at the flesh nearest to her throat, humming contentedly as her thighs attempted to close around his explorative hand.

He nudged alongside her jawline with his nose, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Beneath her skirt, he began rubbing soothing circles on her thighs. He could feel the heat emitting from her cunt, was thoroughly taken with the idea that in this state, he could just as well do anything he wanted to her. For months now, he’d been thinking of this, of her — of her soft whimpers, of the scrunch of her face as she came, of the taste of her, acidic and lovely. He’d palmed himself in the dark of night too many times to count, re-imagining the moments she hung up her inhibitions for him. He wanted her more than he could bring himself to admit.

He reached up and felt for the outline of her underwear. There was nothing. “No knickers?” he murmured against the warmth of her skin.

She shook her head, almost coy.

Chris pressed his lips to hers then. At first a light peck, the feeling of her lips against his was better than he remembered - better than anything he could possibly imagine - and he could not help drawing himself more closely to her. His hand carded through her hair, and when she opened his mouth for him, he groaned softly, ghosting his mouth above her own. They sat like that for a moment, staring at one another, measuring the depths of each other’s want before his tongue touched hers, and she eagerly gripped on the side of his shirt, pulling his body over her own. His feather touches on her thighs crept higher and higher until his fingers ghosted over her cunt. She canted her hips up, pleading silently, as his tongue ran over the top of her mouth, possessive and needy.

“What’s a matter, darlin’? No one touched you while I was away?” he teased. The Irish lilt drove her wild as it spread itself across the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Her nails dug into his side and Chris relished in the sting of it – at this something painful, that could also be nice. There was always a terrible, incessant part of him that wanted to know that things could still be nice.

She attempted to mold her form to his again, mewling from his curious lack of inattention. Chris grinned – nearly beamed – as if in wanting him, she was granting him some longed desired freedom. He knew her cunt ached for him; he felt the heat of it as his hand cascaded further up. Instead of touching her, he brushed lightly over her, grazing everywhere except the spots that would do anything for her. A protest finally rose up in her throat, but as Chris pushed the fabric of her skirt around her waist, whistling at the sight of her before him, it only came out as a weak sound instead. She looked at him, glassy eyed. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her glisten.

The alcohol made her pliant, but not incapable; whereas sober she probably wouldn’t let his curious eyes linger as long as they were, she allowed it now, slightly thrilled. The feeling ran up her spine when he brought fingers to her, spreading her puffy lips apart. She stifled a moan, gripping the edge of her couch, arching into his touch. With Chris, nothing ever managed to feel lewd; it felt like the most correct thing in the world, like he was drawing up a map and saying ‘this is where you are, this is where you belong, this is what you’re meant to do.’ It made her dizzy, how much she wanted him to merely touch her – not to mention how badly she wanted his cock, his tongue, anything at all. She wanted to tell him. To say: you could do anything you want with me. I’ll lie on the carpet, naked, let you look forever if you just keep looking at me like that, making me feel like this. Keep making me want you, just this much.

She didn't feel bad about it all—it made her feel strangely, inexplicably whole. Better because she didn’t love him, because she only liked him, and he only liked her, and yet they still wanted to touch one another like this, look at each other like that. She’d waited her whole life to feel that way.

“You’re mine,” he told her. The voice sounded as it came from deep within him, a place he didn’t rightly know existed until it did and he couldn’t help but reveal it. “Aren’t you? My girl, waiting for my fingers–” he circled over her opening, watching blurry eyed the way it closed around nothing “--waiting for my cock, wearing no knickers, hoping that I’ll what?” When they made eye contact, she found she never wanted to tear her eyes away from him again. He looked like he could devour her whole. “That I’d notice, fuck you soon as I seen you?”

He clicked his tongue, entering a single one of his thick fingers into her cunt. He tightened his jaw, watching the way it disappeared into the warmth of her. She was wet as hell. When she pushed at his shoulder, squirming a little beneath him, his lips curled up at the end into a small, genuine grin. He liked the way her face contorted, how she pushed even though she wanted more.

“That f–feels good,” she moaned.

“So fucking wet–” He entered another finger into her.

His nose once more rubbed along the smooth outline of her face. How badly he wanted to know the entire shape of her–to reach inside, extract a piece to take home. His fingers rubbed against the spongy top of her walls, and he measured the beat of her heart, the wavering of her breath, the ghost of her against his skin as he adjusted above her. His other hand grazed beneath the fabric of her shirt, peeling it up.

As he hung his head, a shag of hair concealed his face. She pinned it back just as he licked just above her breast. Her body arched up towards his own and he groaned, pulling his now wet fingers out of her and gripping at her hip. He pinned her against him, knocked his nose against hers, before kissing her; he sucked at her bottom lip, ran his tongue over the back of her teeth.

Chris wanted her to make a mess of him, and to let him make a mess of her. He wanted her spread and wet, wanted to plunge his cock deeply inside of her, wanted to run his tongue over the creases between her legs, wanted to suck her clit, bite her nipples, to see her mouth around his cock, his fingers, wanted to watch her pupils dilate, her mouth form into a neat ‘o’, to hear the thud of her heart against his ear, a sound that would no doubt make his own heart beat quicker, and more happily than it had in months.

“Please,” she told him, and he couldn’t resist.

Her fingers found the buttons on his dress shirt and diligently began to undo them as he reached between their bodies to push down his slacks. As she moved the shirt down his arms, he caught her lips against own again.

“D’you have a condom?” he asked, urgent.

“Over there.“ She pointed to the drawer beside them. He kissed her again before leaning over and grabbing the pack out of the assortment of junk she had stored there.

His brows furrowed as he took one of the wrappers out of the pack. He tried not to think entirely much about the fact that there was empty space where others had been, and tore the end as she hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and drew them down around his hips.

Swallowing, he took himself in his hand. As he pinched the tip of the latex, she reached out, stilling his hands. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she was doing it. He watched with widened eyes as she put her mouth around the weeping tip of his cock, taking him slowly into the warmth of her mouth. His fingers gripped the back of the couch and he sucked in a shallow breath. “Jesus Mary—“ he uttered, face tinting red. Her eyes glanced up and he nearly shuddered; they were glassy, impish, delighted as she flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein up.

He felt drunk when she hummed around him — everything going straight to his brain all of the sudden. What she could not put in her mouth, she stroked with her hand. Chris could not peel his eyes from her. She’d done this before, of course, but never with so much self-possession. Saliva glistened on his cock and cornered the edges of her lips as she pulled back. He wanted to reach out, to touch her. To tell her good girl and watch the way the praise settled over her skin. But it all happened too quickly; she was already moving off of his cock before the words could come up. “

Now,” she told him, still holding him in her hand.

Chris understood; he nodded and adroitly peeled the condom over himself.

She laid back, spreading her legs apart to make room for him. He looked down at her, reverent, but still with the mind to be clever. “Mind me if I’m wrong, but I thought you women liked a bit of foreplay?” he joked, running his finger alongside her thigh.

Her lips mirrored his own. “This entire day’s been foreplay.” Her own fingers sprawled against his stomach, wrapping around his sides. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Like you said, I’ve wanted you to take me as soon as you saw me.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for him. His head dipped, his mouth on hers as he guided her back on the couch. She wrapped a leg around him, their tongues rolling against one another’s as he positioned himself over her. Even through the cotton of his undershirt, he could feel her pebbled nipples against his chest. He sighed, kissing at her jaw, her neck, leaving wet kisses over her collarbone. Reaching between her legs, he ran two fingers through her folds, testing how slick she was for him. He sucked hard on the skin over her breast—hard enough to leave a bruise—and hummed agreeably as she coated his fingers.

“My naughty, naughty American,” he delighted. He spread her folds apart with his fingers, rubbing over her core teasingly. She looked him in the eye, mouth parting to let mouth a silent moan.

Chris repositioned, replacing his fingers with his cock, rubbing the head of it through her folds. He went slack jawed with her as he teased the tip inside of her, stretching her entrance with the fat head of it. Her nails, which had been ghosting over his skin, dug in slightly. After a few moments, he pulled back out, much to both of their dismay.

“Don’t know if you’re wet enough,” he whispered against her lips, grinding his hips in an upward motion. She whined, pouting.

“I am,” she insisted.

“Not for me,” he replied, his hand reaching back between their bodies. He pressed two fingers inside of her, grinning as her brows drew together. “You’re mine,” he told her again, dragging his fingers along her walls. “You can fill yourself with whatever or whoever you like while I’m gone, but I want it to be known that this—“ he rubbed the top of her cunt, reaching a deep part of her that made her squirm. “—is mine. All fucking mine.”

She was intoxicated, the heady fumes of desire spreading out around them. He thrust his fingers inside of her, widening them apart to stretch her for him. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she brought him down to kiss her. He did, parting from her only to cast his translucent eyes down to where he was touching her.

“Fuck, I’m wet enough, Chris,” she said murmured his lips, frustrated. He laughed.

“Not enough. Want you dripping,” he said back, a bit stern. She could see it, suddenly, the way she hadn’t ever been able to before: an etch of seriousness that told her he could be a somber man. She found it terribly attractive. She sucked at the end of his tongue.

“If you fuck me properly, I will be,” she retorted, drawing her fingers around his sides, up to his back. She traced alongside his spine.

He scoffed, though she could see in his eyes he liked the teasing.

“You’re not being very nice to me. Don’t know if I should.” They both watched as he dragged his wet fingers up to her puffy clit. He traced wide, light circles around it. She held her breath, drawing her legs up involuntarily for him.

“You’re clenching around nothing, baby. What a pity.”

“Chris—“ she breathed out. “Chris.”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he nodded in approval, righting himself over her again. He applied more pressure on her clit.

“My pretty-“ Chris took himself in his hand again, lining his cock over her entrance, “-pretty girl all worked up.” He shook his head as if chiding, before thrusting his hips forward slowly. His eyes followed his cock as it disappeared into her, her cunt stretching beautifully around him. She was a goddess, laid out before him, wanting and waiting. Despite his desire for all of her, he thrilled at the slow taking of her. He was savoring it, remembering the tightness of her cunt, allowing the curve of her nails to embed themselves into his mind as well as his skin.

When he found himself fully seated inside of her, he turned his head, kissing the side of her lips, his eyelids, her nose. She pulsated around him. “You feel so tight,” he told her, gradually pulling out, only enough to feel the squeeze of her around him without losing too much of the warmth. He nearly sighed in contentment as he moved back inside.

She was already flush and warm all over from the alcohol in her system, and the feel of him inside of her felt less like an intrusion, as much as it did a missing piece to a lifelong puzzle. His cock was better than his fingers, thicker, longer, going deep as he grinded his hips down into hers. Impatient, she told him, “Faster.”

He huffed out a laugh, but obeyed, drawing up more quickly this time, pressing into her with more intent. She bit back a moan as she felt the plunge of him inside of her. Her knees went higher, something he encouraged by hooking one of them around his arm and thrusting roughly inside of her.

“Fuck, like that,” she moaned, nodding as he went impossibly deep inside of her then. She felt herself grow wetter—could hear it too, the slap of their bodies growing nosier the more intense he grew with his thrusts. It was no longer an issue for him to slide in; her body beckoned him, made all the room so he could seat himself closer and closer to her core.

Chris began to whimper as his thrusts grew more erratic. The pendant on his necklace swung as he watched the way his cock entered her, hitting her in the face as he pushed inside. Her tongue latched onto it, drawing the cool metal into her mouth. When he looked back at her, his eyes were full of unadulterated want. He shuddered, his hands falling over the back of her shoulders, attempting to draw her closer than she already was. She felt the fabric of his undershirt against her sensitive nipples, felt the drag of his pubic bone against her clit as he worked himself inside of her; he was all around her, hot, tangible, lovely, human. Hers.

His fingers wrapped tightly around her shoulders, almost with a bruising intensity, as he began to twitch inside of her. She looked him in the eyes, nodding, urging. He came then, the warmth of his seed inside of her making her gasp, even through the latex of the condom. Her arms wrapped around him, and she panted, smiling.

Pressing a kiss to her breast, he steadied his breathing. She brushed her fingers through his unruly hair, enjoying the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin.

“I’m still gonna make you cum,” he promised, cupping his hand around one of her breasts. They adjusted, so that he tucked himself beside her on the couch, their legs intertwining. His touch was curious more than attentive, the tips of his fingers caressing her warm flesh.

“We’ve got all night.”

“I know,” he smiled, licking behind her ear. Her eyes shut closed, and she pressed away the thoughts that this was not friendly. The alcohol made her feel pleasant, warm, and she did not care.

“Gonna make you cum a lot, my American,” he murmured, biting her earlobe.

She kissed him softly and he returned the kiss in kind, resting a hand on her cheek. He wanted to tell her something terribly romantic, to confess that he liked her quite a lot, that he enjoyed being here more than she would know. But Ireland was such a quiet, fearful place and the IRA had made him wearier than ever; it was best to say nothing than to say too much. It was better to show. His hand drew up between her legs, his eyes glimmering as he pulled away from her.

I want to know all you, said the line he traced up her thigh.

Alright, she consented, parting her legs for him.

[mysaintkitten]

Here’s a shitty little blurb involving Chris … and some guns … 🤭

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), cockwarming, gunplay (my love)

It started with half an hour, then and hour, and then an hour and a half. The more time went on, the more desperate you became. With Chris’ cock sitting still inside you, it’s like you could feel every familiar ridge and vein, but without the intoxicating friction that came along with it.

You promised him you’d be good, and you really wanted to be, but it was becoming harder and harder to sit still. Eventually your hips ended up shifting around on their own, and your core began to clench around him involuntarily.

“Baby,” Chris groaned, not taking his eyes off the barrel of his new and loaded gun. “We made a deal, didn’t we?”

You dip your head into his neck out of frustration, huffing softly in the process. You loved, yet also hated, Chris’ attentiveness. Nothing got by him. Ever. Even in situations like this, where all you want is for Chris to fuck you.

He knows how badly you want it, and that’s exactly why he teases you with it.

“It’s just … I feel so full ‘n I just …” you defend pathetically, it’s hard to form a compelling argument when the only thing that’s racing through your head is ‘cock’.

“Too bad, darling.” Chris replies while feigning pity, turning the safety off his gun before finishing his thought, “a deals a deal.”

“Chris …” you mewl and clench around him again, nipping gently at his neck playfully. He groans and sighs, allowing the kisses and bites for a few seconds.

He pulled your head out of the nook of his neck and gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “you promised me that you’d be good, that you’d sit on my cock and stay quiet until i finished examining the guns, didn’t you baby?”

You nod as best you can while he holds your face.

“And yet you couldn’t even do that for me, too much of a desperate fucking slut.” He spat back at you, making you frown and whine. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but what can he expect? He can’t fill you up so nicely and still expect you to be obedient.

As you slowly move your hips around, you’re stopped in your tracks when you feel the cold barrel of his gun be placed beneath your chin, Chris’ finger sitting patiently on the trigger. You swallowed nervously as your body froze on top of him.

“Aw, not so brave now, huh?” He chuckles at you, “you get so tight when you’re scared.”

You’re afraid to move, deeply worried that the slightest shift may set off the gun. That is, until, you feel Chris’ other hand soothingly pet your thigh, before patting it encouragingly.

“Well, come on. Don’t keep daddy waiting.”

Hesitantly, you begin to roll your hips, riding Chris at a steady pace, all the while his gun is pressing against you. He dips his head back and hums approvingly, clearly enjoying the show that’s being put on for him.

“That’s it. Ride me, girl. And don’t you dare fucking stop.”

—

I’ve been in the mood to write lately but I have no idea what. I think I’ll go through my requests again, see if anything sticks out hehe. In the meantime, have a little blurb!

[saintmuses]

❝𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩❞

Pairing:

Chris x Rockstar!Reader

Summary:

It was 1978, she was living her life on stages. She had her whole future planned out which was playing in front of crowds until she dropped dead. Well that was the plan until the night she met Chris.

Warning(s): soft SMUT. Slight Oral (m-receiving). Slight fingering. P in V. Attack/threat (from a stranger). Minors, dni!

Word Count: 3k

For some reason, this particular night called her. Called out to her in a certain fashion with a seductive tone with a voice as a sin. 

She didn’t know why, but she was ready to fall in the deep abyss that was the night sky filled with clusters of stars. To her, the stars reminded her of gold dust from afar; the closest thing to her was the gold glitter smeared on her cheekbones that was brushed upwardly and gold eyeshadow that looked like fallen dust.

It was nineteen seventy-eight, and Y/N could practically taste the anticipation on her lips as she could hear the rising excitement of having her on stage at . 

Clad in worn-out converses, bell bottom jeans and skin tight tank top, she was the lead singer and one of the songs her band had written and produced ended up playing on the radio.

It was music to her ears, flowing in one ear with gold glitter and coming out with dust in gold dust because she drained every critic, every success, it was the most powerful thing in the world. The power that the words held over them. Sending them into a trance-like state, and she couldn't blame them because if she was in their shoes, she would've felt the same.

Her voice nearly faltered when her eyes landed on a lone guy standing by the wall, far away from the sporadic crowd, gripping the base of the microphone with one hand and holding the spine of the stand with the other; she was surprised by the fact that she could see him in the crowd like this. Pulsing, erratic, a unified wave with the strobe lights flashing red and blue over the nightclub.

Her voice then faded into the low range, whispering the words of the song that was blasting across the place as she raked her eyes down his frame.

She could tell that his hair was somewhat shoulder length and dark, almost as dark as the wall behind him, maybe even closer to black. She could tell there was a mustache adorning his skin between his nose and his upper lip, and he was handsome despite of it. He would've been just a regular nobody, and she would be none wiser, but the thing about him that drew her in like a moth to its flame was the holster hidden underneath his leather jacket.

And that was why she could tell he wasn't a regular nobody. Maybe nobody in her world, but as far as it goes...he wasn't a nobody in his world; of that she could tell. He was dressed in dark colored pants, a patterned buttoned up shirt beneath the leather jacket he was adorning that were clearly custom cut for his body.

Who carried a gun to a nightclub? Or even a bar? He was at a high risk of destroying the place with a sea of crowd full of intoxicated people and a few were all high on powdered addiction. 

She felt like she was singing the words to him. Maybe she was, but no one had to know. She was nearly flustered when she knew that he knew she was looking at him as she growled into the microphone -with the words that drove through the crowd relentlessly- due to the smirk that lilted his lips.

Those lips from afar, are the ones that she wanted to kiss. And she didn't even know him. Just a mere stranger from the sideline, an observant, a bystander. A handsome bystander at that. All she knew was his eyes were on her, and she relished in the attention that he was giving her. There could be many men in one room that could be so handsome, but she would single him out. 

It was electrifying.

Her painted lips trembled slightly at the sight of his face as he stared at her. It wasn't the one of those creepy stares that she would get every now and then. It was more of a romantic novel stare like one of those movies that border-lined dramatic on romantic scenes. She didn’t know him. Yet, she didn’t care because she had a feeling she will know him very soon.

She nibbled her bottom lip when the drummer took over for the solo, and her eyes were heavily lidded as she mentally beckoned him to come to her. To come closer to her, to lessen the distance between him and her with the crowd in between. 

To suppress the electricity charged tension that she had felt earlier before coming upon the elevated platform, she then knew it was him that was making the night called to her. She then shifted her hips to shimmy them to the beats of the drums as it echoed throughout the room.

Her eyes were still on his as she finished the song. She wouldn't be able to look at the song the same way ever again.

Every time she would sing the song in the future, she would remember the icy eyed man in a leather jacket.

Y/N dipped the rag into the running warm water and raised it in front of her as she stared at the dirty mirror of the small dingy bathroom, then dragged the damp cloth across her face to clean up the gold dust off of her cheeks.

When she was at the age of sixteen, she ran away from home; her mother and her father died in a robbery gone wrong sending her and her brother to their guardian. There were more secrets in the family, and more lies that she couldn't take anymore and ran out of the town ever since.

She was a runaway from the quiet town of Massachusetts and had ended up in California after weeks of long days and lonely nights where people paid her no mind and not an ounce of sympathy in their hearts. It had been one cold rainy night on the street in Los Angeles where she met her very first friend and bandmate.

They had a simple idea. A seed, really. It was a tiny seed that slowly turned into roots then it erupted into a wild thing. A simple idea was to form a rock band, whereas everyone chased their dreams, and had been crushed when life deemed to not be satisfied enough to give them what they deserved after a lot of sacrifices and dedication.

Somehow, Y/N and her bandmate were able to make it come true. It was a small dream, really. It went from two, a guitarist and a singer. That was a rough draft; then they somehow got three more. A dream became a reality when she was eighteen when she heard her song on the radio for the first time. She wasn't always the avid music lover; she'd settle for classical music. 

When she was a little girl, she wanted to be a doctor; to follow her father's footsteps. After her parents died, that desire went from being a doctor to a writer. A writer about horrors, she supposed. Granted she had enough of them to last a lifetime.

Between running away from a small town in Massachusetts to arriving in a severely overpopulated city that is Los Angeles, music had become her only source of comfort. she had constantly listened to Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, ABBA, Meat Loaf, the Runaways, and etcetera on the radios in the random vehicles as she raised her thumb in the cool days of spring and hot days of summer to hitch a ride or two across the States to realize that the music was her lover. Then from that point on, it manifested into a dream.

No matter how much she played the music, sung into the melody's lips, her lover, she would always be the imposter; inside of the rock persona, she was a nobody, a nineteen-year-old from the quiet town who escaped from her past, because nothing will change the truth about herself. 

Y/N sighed as she pulled her leather jacket around her frame tightly as she stepped through the back door and into the October air. She glanced around when she felt a shift in the air; she already sent her friends to the hotel earlier and wanted the night to herself so she was on high alert.

Before she could take a step on the way out of the alleyway, she felt a presence looming over her, and she turned around. She let out a groan when her back slammed against the rough wall, and she opened her eyes to see an unknown man hovering over her with his hand wrapped around her throat, constricting her airways along with a knife to her skin.

"Ah, pretty thing." The man hissed; his eyes flashed maliciously as his lips curled. "Why won't you fight back?" He asked after he realized she wasn't taking control of the situation.

"Are you stupid?" She hissed gasping as she struggled to breathe, "you’re holding a knife to my neck."

He bared his teeth in response which revealed his fury, and he reared back to shove the weapon into the juncture of her neck.

She squeezed her eyelids shut in preparation of the pain that she knew she would feel once his knife cut into her skin, but nothing happened until she heard a gun going off and she felt his fingers loosening the grip on her throat; so, she opened her eyes to see a stunned face reflecting back at her, his eyes were wide, unseeingly and his mouth was agape before collapsing onto the pavement.

Her eyes followed to see a familiar man she saw in the audience earlier, the one who she couldn't take her eyes off all night, standing in front of her with his fingers gripping a handgun in his hand and drops of blood splattered his face.

"You alright?" he asked, his hand -the one not holding the weapon- was reaching for the handkerchief inside of his leather jacket, tugging on it and pulled it out as he placed the weapon back into his holster.

The man whipped the cloth into a loose form as her eyes drew to it; it was white, a stark contrast of himself. White was pure, from what she could tell he was not pure, and she was certain that he weathered a lot of burden in that regard.

She snorted, "I am…” she trailed off, eyeing him. “But who the hell are you?" She asked, shaking her head slightly.

"Chris." His eyebrows shot up with a smirk, then he wrapped the cloth around his face to wipe off the excess of her attacker's blood.

"Well, Chris. Thank you for saving my life." She grumbled, straightening her leather jacket, dusting off some lint off of her shoulders before looking at him.

"You don’t like it when someone saves you?" He asked after stuffing the cloth into the pocket of his pants.

She nodded, pushing a several loose strands away from her face. “Don’t like owing someone a debt.” 

He inclined his head towards her, "Let me take you to some place nearby and we can talk more about this," he gestured for her to come with him.

“Can I trust you?”

“Aye, I did save your life after all.” A smirk curled his lips before walking away while pulling out a case of cigarettes out of his leather jacket pocket.

"My mama had warned me about men like you," she said playfully as she slid into the booth underneath the bright lights of the quiet diner. A stark contrast to the night lights in the crowd of the bar.

He clasped his fingers on the top of the dull surface of the table, chuckling slightly, "she told you to stay away from IRA men, eh?” 

She shook her head, “no. Dangerous men.”

“Not dangerous around you,” he murmured causing her to blush. “What made you want to sing?” He was genuinely curious.

She looked at him, eyeing him before she exhaled softly. "It was sort of a dying wish; my life has been filled with death and none of people did what they wanted to do…my life was dull ever since my parents died and I had to do something about it. It's like a bucket list, except there's only one thing on the list to do before my death. So, when I die, at least I did something meaningful with my life.”

It had been during one hot summer day in nineteen seventy-six when he heard her voice for the first time. He could recall her voice sent shivers down his spine when it blasted from the radio in his borrowed vehicle, he didn't know who she was then; However, he knew he had to know her.

It was enticing, her voice. When he went across one of the local record stores, he found what he was looking for, and he had remembered his eyes widened, his jaw slacked, and his fingers were gripping on the cover.

He was a fool when he thought that he was done playing a schoolboy with a crush on some hot girls back in Ireland, but the proof was undeniably on the cover that he's holding.

He was curious about the voice of the music, so he had bought it and had listened to it. It wasn't until over a year later, he heard that Y/N and her band were going to play at a bar which happened to be near where he was staying at.

He was already enraptured by her voice, but until he walked into the sporadic room, she had captured his attention to her beauty that the others did not have. By the time she was done with the show, he knew he had to have her. 

"Thank you," she murmured while fiddling her thumbs.

He tilted his head sideway. "For what?"

"For saving my life." She smiled softly.

He allowed a small smirk to grace upon his face while gazing at her. "You can thank me by telling me how you were introduced to a different world." He said expectantly, ignoring the tension that rose between them. It wasn't the time yet.

She hummed before telling him the story from the very first night she almost died.

A few hours later, he drove her back to his rental place which happened to be a dingy little motel, and now they're in the assigned room of his.

"I...I don't really do this stuff," she stammered, flushing heavily under his heady gaze.

One thing had led to another as soon they walked into the living room. Electricity surged between them with phantom rope tied them together, and they had to give into the feeling. The tension had exploded literally and figuratively. 

It was undeniably inevitable.

He walked closer to her, loosening the jacket, and she forced herself to keep her arms by her side from touching him. She felt the weight of his hand pressed against the lower part of her back as he reached for her. It ascended in a slow line, following the curve of her back from her spine.

"It's okay. I don't do it either," he murmured, and then his fingers curled around the nape of her neck, and her mind quieted.

“I don’t believe you,” she said automatically.

“Well, I don’t, I usually just take them out for dinner, but sometimes it’s tediously boring that we never go that far. You on the other hand…” he trailed off; His other hand drew a trail over the curve of her hip, rising over her waist where he barely grazed over her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and her gaze averted at his exploration. He dipped his head, his lips hovering over hers. Her lips trembled at the sheer tension as it rose between them.

His fingers caressed her face, tucking strands of hair behind her ears as his tongue slid against hers, and she just pressed her body against his in response, he then gripped her by the waist. It wasn't enough.

It was heaven and hell being close to his presence.

She nipped at his neck, and he gasped. She finally opened his shirt and yanked it from his pants rather unceremoniously, her fingers touching the fabric.

She sucked in a gasp at the sudden pressure of two digits sliding over the underwear.

He held her gaze, her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks utterly entrancing. She felt his fingers hooked into the elastic of her underwear and tugged down, allowing them to drop onto the floor. She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers trail up her thighs.

His breath was hot in her ear as he murmured her name, her hips bucked forward as he slid his fingers into her.

His eyes trailed over her bare breasts after she reached around her back to unclasp the hooks and dropped her bra to the floor. The light pressure made her knees shake as he cupped her breasts with his fingers, blue eyes gazing as her back helplessly arched.

She lowered herself to the floor, the thick carpet was soft under her knees.

When she looked up at him, she saw his head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He groaned and tightened his grip in her hair, making her eyes roll back.

She felt a flash of arousal clenching her abdomen. That she could easily make him lose control as easy as he could keep a façade. She then swirled her tongue around his cock, taking him deeper with glitter in her eyes.

His body was flushed against her, hovering over her frame, all around her in so many ways in one. She quietly begged him to move. As if he could read her mind, he began to slowly move in and out of her with a swirl of his hips, pushing back in all the way with each thrust.

Her body rocked helplessly against the mattress each time, her breasts bounced slightly with each thrust, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match her heartbeat. His hips thrusted so roughly that she'd be sore. Her hips would ache, she'd feel him for the rest of the night and in the morning.

His breath came in shallow pants, he whispered against her damp skin that he will make her breakfast in the morning.

That thought made her feel warmer than she had ever been.

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

[liliewrites]

"IN THE HEARTHFIRE'S EMBRACE"

a/n ; HALLOO:DD so, here's the first part of the "let the world burn" series inspired by the song of the same name from chris grey. more women will be added to the list as i go, so feel free to drop some suggestions which genshin women you think would be a great addition to the series. anywaay, thanks for readingg:))

-warning/s ; a bit of descriptive violence, mentions of blood and burning but not directed at the reader. -pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader.

where in ; these women would go against every person in teyvat-- would even watch teyvat burn, all for your sake.

(men please dni utc!)

“Lynette, whatever happens, keep your mother safe.”

The words rang in the little girl’s ears repeatedly as she held the older woman’s hands. They were not related by blood in any way, but this woman had taken care of her, raised her and nurtured her for as long as she could remember. So she keeps her father’s words, and protects the woman with what she has.

“There they are! The wife of the Knave!!”

With an annoyed curse beneath a whisper, Lynette grabs onto your hand tightly, pulling you to run away as the spies have found you in your hiding spot. Tired, panting and breathless- your legs felt like it was about to give out, but thanks to the adrenaline spiking through your body, you just kept running, and running, and then finding yourself driven in a corner with nowhere to escape as the spies had surrounded you from all sides.

Despite being struck with fear, your motherly instincts came first as you held your precious daughter in your arms, wanting to protect her more than wanting to be protected by her.

“Mother, I can… I can handle this!” Lynette exclaimed, but you knew better, it was two against half a dozen grown men and only Lynette was capable of fighting out of the two of you but her alone would not be enough to face them. “My child, settle down, I'd rather die than witness you slain in front of me. Let me protect you, so hush.” 

You whispered, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes as immense fear ran through your veins. You closed your eyes shut to brace yourself for impact, heart filled with dread as one of the men neared you with a blade of his own. He let out a sickly chuckle at your demise, the wife of the Knave’s to be precise, then raising his arm up to—

“Fucking imbeciles.”

—to fall in front of you beheaded, with warm and thick blood splattered against you and the child in your arms. You opened your eyes to look up but you already knew who it was and to your horrific relief, it was your wife covered in blood who stood menacingly in the background. Her hand letting go of her scythe that she earlier held with a grip so tight, her hands trembled while she slayed the wretched men in blinded fury then she started to slowly walk towards you.

You gasped at the sight and immediately covered Lynette's eyes as she was no more than just a child who although you knew was no stranger to this kind of scenery, you still wanted to shield her from the gruesome sight. Nonetheless, still, you felt glee to see your wife.

As for said wife, Arlecchino’s chest was heaving in pure, unfiltered wrath and with no remorse stepped upon the men’s lifeless bodies in a rather harsh manner. Her sharp, pointed heels stabbed itself into the flesh as she made her way towards you through the fire she had caused in the midst of tearing the men apart just a few moments ago.

— but as soon as she reached you, the look in her eyes softened and all hostility she held had instantly melted away. Replaced by a vulnerable and fragile display of guilt and fear as the apathetic mask she’d mastered to put on for years straight had cracked for a brief moment out of fear for you. “My beloved, I am deeply sorry for arriving so late...” she apologized and her tone sounded so different than how she insulted the man who almost killed you. She gently pulled you up into her arms and held you and her daughter with a relieved sigh. 

“I didn't realize that a few had escaped and chased after you, my beloved. I am terribly, terribly sorry for making such a horrible mistake.” Her voice was shaky and you knew that behind the tough exterior she tried to put on, her heart was broken beyond a million pieces at the thought of almost losing you. 

“My dear, it is alright. Lynette kept me safe, and we are alive.” You tried to reassure her, but at the moment you had mentioned the word “alive”, the intense emotions kicked in as she was reminded of the fact that if she arrived just even a second late, you and her daughter would’ve been dead along with the men that lay on the ground. The raging embers of fury ignited once more, so she separated for a moment to summon countless burning crimson blades in thin air one after another, embedding it into the lifeless bodies that lay on the ground. After her little outburst, she looked at the burning men with a glare and held you tightly to keep you safe and secure to provide you solace, amidst the burning chaos of flames that surrounded all three of you.

“My beloved, if you were to die at the hands of such crooked men, tainted and ruined, I could never find it in my heart to watch the world prosper without you as it’d have no meaning at all.”

She spoke with such conviction that it felt like a comforting flame that soothed the fear in your heart but to those who dare lay a finger on you, this served as a threat as this same woman who held you and your child with such a gentle hold and looked at you with tender eyes swearing that she would be capable of attempting to kill the Tsaritsa with her bare hands in a heartbeat— if it meant protecting you.

There is no sane bone in her body, that was indeed a fact, but if you were to be taken away from her then she’d be willing to watch the world go poof, drowned in the flames of her agony of your loss if it were to ever happen.

[prettymonegasque]

you asked for smut requests and i shall deliver. cockwarming max as he plays video games while streaming and riding his thigh??

Max Verstappen x Reader

A/N: Is this too much to ask for? huH GOD?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Thigh Riding, Cowgirl, Light Mastrubation, Sexting, Slight Cockwarming at the end, not proof read.

It was a quiet night. Max was streaming with Team Redline and you were watching it on your laptop from the couch with your best mates Ben and Jerry. The stream was pretty calm with Max winning the first few rounds. His ego began to grow so much he started slacking a little on the next round, he missed a few apexes and almost crashed. Yet somehow he won that round as well and started playing with Jimmy, putting the sim on autopilot. You were in the mood for a little chaos. So you decided to comment on the stream from your burner account. You found the perfect quip to comment.

sassierthansassy: looks like the world champion loves to just sit back and watch like a pillow princess 

“Hey, Max. Someone commented, “looks like the world champion loves to just sit back and watch like a pillow princess. What’s your comeback man?” Chris started laughing. Max started searching for the comment on the chat and when he saw it was from your account, he knew exactly what you were doing. But he just laughed it off on the stream. He took out his phone and texted you. 

Max ♥️ : You got a lot of nerve calling me pillow princess when you were the one lying on the bed helpless this morning

You: I wouldn’t call eating me out as a lot of work. 

Max ♥️ : Is that why you were praising me?

You: Well I didn’t want you to know how disappointing that was, first thing in the morning.

Max ♥️ : Schatje careful. You might not like what you get later.

You: What’s a little more disappointment?

Max ♥️ : Such a brat. Come here and I’ll show you how much I love sitting back and watching. 

Hook, line and sinker.

You finished up the last spoon of ice cream and walked to the sim room. You quietly opened the door, letting the cats out and stood near his setup, away from the camera. He turned off his video. “Uh guys. I think there’s some problem with the camera. The game lags when I turn it on so I’m going to turn it off for some time.” You sat on his lap and started kissing his neck but he still refused to take his eyes off the game. He simply smirked and continued navigating on screen. You traced your hands down the waistband of his joggers and started palming him. 

He was quick to swat your hand away. “Not so fast princess” He whispered in your ear and patted his thigh. You knew what he meant and got to work straddling his thigh. You rocked back and forth slowly getting yourself more wet by the second. You shut your eyes and got into a steady rhythm, continuing to ride his thigh. Just when you were about to cum, Max lifted you and sat you on his cock. You hadn’t even seen him free it, so blissed out chasing your orgasm. 

You sank into him and started bouncing on his cock. He was still focused on the game, you could hear chatter from his headphones. You needed to feel Max’s touch. Your entire body was on fire knowing he was so close yet so far away. You started getting whiny. You kissed him and tugged on his hair but he didn’t even blink. You rolled your hips lightly and that caught his attention. He drew in a deep breath and continued gaming.

You knew you were breaking him, so you took off your t-shirt, exposing your breasts. You pinched and pulled your nipples. You couldn’t let out any noises but that didn’t stop you from making pornographic facial expressions. You rolled your eyes and threw your head back as you rode him. Your hand snaked down and started playing with your clit. 

“Fuck schatje. You’re killing me here.” You heard Max growl. Your eyes widened thinking he said that on stream. You craned your neck to find out he had turned off the stream. You finally broke him. Your smirk was quickly wiped off your face when Max started thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. “Such a little slut. So needy, had to sext in front of the whole world huh? Isn’t so fun when I just sit back and watch? Is it princess?” He questioned you with every thrust. 

You were so close and let out all the noises you’d been holding back. Max moaned at your noises and started thrusting faster. “Max! I’m gonna- Fuck!” You screamed as you came all over his cock. He didn’t stop and kept thrusting into you. “Don’t be so selfish baby. Couldn’t even wait for me to cum.” He groaned as he came inside you. The aftershock was insane as you came again. The room fell quiet with only the sound of you breaths bouncing off the walls. 

Max kissed your head and began to pull out of you. But when you made a protesting noise, he just laughed and pulled you in closer. You might be a handful, but you were his handful.

[porcelainseashore]

Us

Pairing: Guitarist! Leon Kennedy x Singer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You've joined Chris, Claire and Leon in Stars Rebellion as the band's new lead vocalist. If you thought chasing fame was hard, dealing with your growing feelings for a certain blonde guitarist might just take the cake.

Content & Warnings: Rock bands, friends to lovers, romance, slow burn, feelings realization, fluff and angst, swearing, recreational drug use, drinking, implied alcohol abuse, sexual harassment, suggestive themes, panic attacks, religious guilt, other Resident Evil characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Luis, Irons, Steve).

Author's Note: Mostly imagined RE4R Leon in this, though he's a cocky little shit in the beginning and mellows out later. As inspo, I’ve had Ethel Cain’s Michelle Pfeiffer on repeat and you’ll see why in the story. Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for your wonderful feedback!

AO3 Link

It had only been a few weeks since you’d joined the Stars Rebellion, the band you were currently in, thanks to the recommendation of a friend of a friend. You’d somehow coasted along through college, finally free of your parents’ clutches, and made a new life for yourself along the way. It was as if you could be who you really were, without any tied past or history holding you back, and you’d never felt more alive.

You were backstage, warming up before it was time to head out for your first performance. Chris had come over to give everyone a pep talk, while Leon tapped out a beat on the body of his pacific blue Fender guitar impatiently. Claire was nodding away to her brother’s words as she frowned at herself in the cosmetic mirror, the bright LED lights illuminating her flawless skin. You sat at the back, quietly keeping to yourself as you always do, ignoring the jitters in your hands. The adrenaline was kicking in now, you were used to it. Soon, you’d be a completely different person. It was as if once you were on stage, a match was struck and you were on fire.

For now, you contented yourself with recalling the events of how you ended up with this motley crue. It had been a warm, humid Thursday afternoon, when you were done with your classes for the day, and you made your way over to one of the rental practice rooms at the back of a second-hand record store just a little off campus. Your friend Jill had told you that another friend of hers was looking for a new vocalist for their band. Seeing how you’d been singing on and off with various student bands that never really had the drive to go anywhere, she hooked you up, stating that said friend, Claire, was the most determined person she’d ever met.

So here you were, knocking on the door of the shabby, makeshift rehearsal room, covered in countless band and anarchic motto stickers.

“Come on in!” A chirpy, high-pitched voice called out.

The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it by just a crack, enough for you to poke your head through.

“Aw, she’s a shy one,” a boy with floppy, blonde hair who was sitting at the corner, hunched over his guitar remarked. His tone had no hint of maliciousness in it, just pure curiosity.

“Shut it, Kennedy.” The lady, wearing a distinct red leather jacket that matched the color of her hair tied back in a springy ponytail, rolled her eyes before greeting you with a warm smile.

“Hey…” She stuck her hand out, as you cautiously entered the room, taking in the new faces around you. “I’m Claire. You must be Jill’s friend.”

You returned back a feeble smile as you shook her hand. “Yeah, uh, and the Stars Rebellion, huh?”

“That’s right,” a beefy guy with cropped, dark brown hair behind the drum kit piped up. “Our previous vocalist left,” he paused, with his brows furrowed as if he had been reminded of something unpleasant. “You know how it’s like these days.”

You nodded understandingly as he continued. “We’ve got a sweet gig in about two weeks, so we need a replacement fast. You heard our stuff?”

“Yeah, ’course.” Jill had sent you all the recordings and info you needed to prepare yourself for today.

“Great, so-”

“Whoa, hold up a second,” Claire interjected. “Older brothers,” she sighed. “You know what they’re like.” She pointed towards the drummer. “Speaking of which, that’s my very own one over there.”

“Chris, say hello,” she ordered.

“Hi,” his monotone greeting accosted you while he waved over with a drumstick in hand. His confident and no-nonsense persona struck you as someone who was the natural leader of the group.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s really a cuddly bear underneath,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”

He grunted in reply, still looking as stoic as ever, his square jawline unflinching, as if his sister’s words had no effect on him.

“Anyway, I guess you can already tell, I’m on bass.” She swayed her hips a little, gesturing towards the instrument that was strapped around her.

The blonde cleared his throat, seemingly irritated at being relegated to the position of the last person to be introduced.

“And that.” She pointed over to him. “Well, that’s just Leon.”

With a bold smirk, he cradled the guitar to his chest, as his fingers danced along the fretboard, unleashing a cool, intricate riff that spiraled through the air.

“Also a fucking show off,” Claire retorted.

You caught his gaze and the bright blue eyes that lured you in dangerously close, like you were Icarus flying towards the sun. He was one of those boys your father had warned you about. Handsome, charming, but the devil in disguise. You could still hear his stern words about perdition and hellfire booming in your ear. You closed your eyes before they hurt too much.

“So, erm, why don’t we start with the first track on our demo?” Claire’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.

Blinking your eyes open, you bowed your head slightly in response, before getting into position behind the mic. You can do this. A silent prayer reverberated through your head, as the opening chords played.

And just like it happened every time, that magical switch flipped, and you became someone else entirely different from yourself, yet it belonged to every part of you. As you bellowed, growled and sighed breathily into the mic like a rockstar on acid, you noticed a change in the air around you and how your future bandmates looked at you in awe. It felt like an electric current coursing through your veins. It felt like coming home.

You only needed to go through another two more songs, before they were completely floored and decided there and then that they wanted you in. The vibe between the four of you was great, there was no denying that. And you had already started throwing in some moves that were usually saved for performances with Leon, as all of you jammed together.

“That was fucking awesome!” Leon exclaimed, with Claire following suit. Even Chris was smiling widely.

“Yeah, that felt really good,” you panted, a little out of breath from the exertion.

All at once, Chris patted you on the back, cementing your entry. “Welcome to the family.” You felt your heart tug at the last word. Could you really belong here now?

“Nice to finally have another girl in the band!” Claire blurted out, as she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Mm hm, very nice.” Leon gave you a cheeky wink, before Claire smacked the back of his head.

“Behave.”

“Oh, I will,” he snickered.

You shuddered, wondering how a silly remark like that could get you so riled up, as you chose to suppress whatever thoughts that came bubbling towards the surface. He was just one of those cocky bastards who would let fame get to their head, you discerned. Probably had a bunch of groupies lined up too. So you paid no more attention to him than needed.

A large, rough hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

You shook yourself out of the daydream, coming back to reality backstage, as you eyed the imposing, broad figure in front of you. “Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As you strode out onto the stage, the crowd clapped and whistled, though the reception seemed rather lukewarm. Perhaps most of them were waiting for the later bands, who also happened to be the more established ones, to play. It didn’t matter though. Your job was to get them hyped up, and you knew how to do it well.

Leon nodded at you, indicating that he’d start running through the beginning licks of the song on the setlist you’d all prepped. At the same time, he gave you an encouraging smile, which eased the tension a little. Even though you’d only got to know him a few weeks ago, you soon realized that your first impression of him wasn’t exactly the most accurate, and that despite being an insufferable prick, he had another side to him that was caring and gentle. He’d patiently helped you run through the songs with him, and even took a couple of your suggestions in improving them. He hung out with you outside of band practice, wanting to get to know you as a person, and trying to make you feel comfortable within the group. Most musicians had a stick up their ass and would’ve never given you the time of day. But he did. You’d even go as far as to call him a lovable asshole.

As the whirring of Leon’s guitar filled the space, you clenched your fist, pumping it above your head as you let out a low snarl into the mic, before belting out the lyrics, your voice raw and powerful as it soared over the riffs and the steady rhythm of the drum and bass. At a particularly heavy drop, you leaped into the air, before landing on your feet and tearing through the vocals as you rocked out with Leon at the front, playing off the energy you exchanged with each other.

It was infectious, like a feverish dream, and the crowd’s excitement grew. Among the sea of bodies pressed together, you could just about make out the look of enthusiasm on their faces, their eyes sparking with the thrill of the moment, as they jumped, moshed and cheered to the music. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, as one song flew into the other. In between, you made sure to introduce the band, thank the organizers and the audience themselves, coaxing more screams and shouts in unison as you teased them about hearing another song, what it was about, praising them on how great of a crowd they were, and with a sly wink, asking them if they could give you more. And they were more than happy to oblige.

In the final track, a devilish grin broke out across your face as you turned towards Chris and Claire, both of them laughing and shaking their heads as they knew what was coming next, before you faced the audience again. Tapping your foot in time to the beat, you murmured sultrily into the mic, “You wanna see me swallow this mic whole?”

The crowd went mental at the proposal as your velvety laughter rang out across the venue. “Come on, you can do better than that.” You pouted, licking your lips suggestively. “How much do you want it?”

Once the crowd roared, you nodded in approval and pulled the cord of the mic taut between your hands, making a grand show of it, as you tilted your head back, slowly inserting the head of the mic downwards into your mouth. As it went in, you bit at the bottom of the head, gripping it securely between your teeth, as you went hands free and a scream ripped through your throat at the climax of the song. 

Sweat and energy radiated from every pore, as your band members kicked into action. Leon jutted his hips out, launching into a fierce, breathtaking guitar solo, his fingers pressing and weaving in and out of the strings like a blinding lightning. Claire remained the grounding force in a whirlwind of melodies, keeping a consistent beat effortlessly, as her head swayed from side to side. Chris added to the wall of sound with each strike and rattle of the snare drum, quickening the pace as he worked in the bass drum pedal and clashes on the cymbals in perfect timing, his eyes laced in concentration on the controlled chaos unfolding before him.

To say you ended in a bright explosion of sound was an understatement. The four of you hugged each other tightly and bowed to a resounding chorus of cheers and hoots, stamping their feet for yet another encore. You saluted and waved at them, your final words spilling out into the mic in gratitude, “Thanks so much, we are the Stars Rebellion! Have a good night!”

As you headed off stage, Leon pounced behind you, pulling you flush against his chest in a sweaty hug as you gasped in surprise. His hair was in a mess, darkened and clinging to his forehead in damp tendrils. “Holy shit, you were a completely different person up there! Y’know, like Ian fucking Curtis or something?” 

He blabbered on nearly incoherently, name-dropping various famous lead singers. “Karen O, yeah? And Alice Glass…”

“God, just give her a break already,” Claire giggled as she shoved Leon off of you.

You stifled a laugh, your meek personality returning the more you moved away from the spotlight. “Yeah, I guess? Um, thanks.”

Leon paused, looking at you in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jeez, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Lady in streets, freak in the sheets,” he mumbled almost inaudibly as you choked on your saliva and coughed violently at his quip.

“Leon,” Chris warned, as Leon held his hands up in mock surrender. 

Turning towards you, Chris sighed wearily, “Sorry about that. You did good though.”

Before you had a chance to answer, an alluring, provocative voice interrupted. “You all did good out there.”

Spinning around, you came face-to-face with a stylishly dressed lady in a red, skintight catsuit and dark leather heeled boots. A sleek, black bob framed her face, highlighting her sharp features and high cheekbones. You noticed that she focused all her attention on Leon, even though she was addressing the group.

Leon’s eyes widened, her outfit clearly seemed to pique his interest, and you could feel Chris tense up behind you, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At this, Claire whispered into your ear with a hint of venom, “That’s Ada, the bassist of Midnight Sun.”

Midnight Sun. That rang a bell. They were one of the more established bands in the scene, though you’d heard rumors about how haughty they could be and that they would stop at nothing to climb their way up.

“Oh, there you are.” A man with slicked-back blonde hair and dark sunglasses sauntered over coolly. If someone had told you that he was an extra from The Matrix, you would’ve believed them in a heartbeat. 

The look of disdain was prominent on his face as he glanced over at you and your bandmates. He clucked his tongue derisively. “Tell me, what is it like being the warm up crew?”

Leon was about to lash out, but Chris’ reflexes were faster, holding his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Leon huffed, as he shrugged Chris’ hand off, conceding to remaining cordial for now.

“Wesker, you’re on next!” A stagehand called out from afar.

The man tipped his head in response, before wrapping an arm around Ada’s shoulders, pulling her away from your group as he smirked. “Watch and learn, amateurs.”

“Bunch of douchebags,” Claire muttered as all of you made your way towards the dressing room to freshen up. 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Leon peering over his shoulder another time at the lady in red.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Seriously? That’s what was written?” You groaned, chucking Leon’s phone to the side as both of you lay sprawled out on a picnic mat across a grassy hill which connected to a park. A couple of liquor and beer bottles littered your side. Clearly, this was more of a boozy brunch than an actual brunch at all. You should’ve known better than to trust Leon to prepare something substantial. However, whenever he was around you, it seemed like he would make an effort to control his drinking habits, at least to a point where he was only tipsy but not wasted each time.

Since the last gig, the band had received many other offers to play at various venues and Chris had been eager to accept them all, in the hopes of attracting a talent scout who would spot and sign you to a major label. You’d gone on stage a few more times, with each round bringing you new fans and followers, as well as getting hounded by music journalists. Claire seemed to have a word for everything and this was no exception. She described them as rats, and in particular, a man named Luis Sera proved to be the biggest one of them all.

You remembered his irritating voice which had a slight lilt to it, as he called out for you after one of your shows in the previous month. “Señorita… hey!”

He definitely had a flair for making a spectacle out of everything that he did, and soon you’d discover that he was also a master of exaggeration. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mi amor.” He bowed his head dramatically, as he took your hand, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips.

In the end, your band had given him half an hour of your time, only for him to grossly alter whatever answers all of you had provided during the interview when the article was published. He had pitted the Stars Rebellion against Midnight Sun, when in your opinion, both bands sounded nothing like each other and he was just doing it to stir up sensationalist shit. In addition to that, he spent most of the article writing about your looks and sex appeal, as opposed to the actual music.

To be fair, that was part of your showmanship, but it seemed like yet another case of sexism in the industry, where other male vocalists weren’t subject to the same fate as you and the handful of frontwomen, who still cut their teeth and pushed forward.

“Great,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Now, not only have we become an even bigger rival of Midnight Sun, he’s got people wondering if I can actually sing at all!”

Leon seemed amused by your mini outburst, but was otherwise unruffled by the comments in the article. “That’s what journalists do.” He shrugged. “Create fucking bullshit and drama. What’s new?”

He turned over to face you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly before letting it go. “You’re insanely talented, you know that. Don’t listen to them.”

You smiled at his affirmation. The past months had flown by in a blur, and along with it, your bond with Leon had strengthened. You were the very definition of fast friends, having discovered many similar interests and common topics of conversation between the two of you. Although he still made the occasional off-putting remark, and was a bit of an attention-seeker, especially among the ladies, you enjoyed the time spent with him. It felt like you could be yourself and could talk to each other about anything without judgment.

Judgment. That word aroused conflicting feelings within you. On the one hand, being on stage felt freeing and you could do so many things there that would’ve been considered shameful in any other public situation. It was as though you could ignore the judgment or were immune to it. Yet, when it was time to return to the ‘normal world’, judgment haunted you wherever you went.

“Got a question though.” Leon grinned, and you knew he was coming up with another one of his pesky jokes again. “Can you sing?”

You whacked his chest as he howled with laughter. “Alright, come on, look. We’ll do it together, ok?” He whipped out his phone again, tapping on his music playlist. “I just wanna hear you sing something softer, please?”

Sighing in exasperation, you gave in to his curiosity, clearing your throat as you exposed the falsetto that you’d been hiding all this while in the city you’d run off to for college. Leon joined you on the backing vocals as you flowed through the song together, while you tried to ignore his gaze which lowered at your lips, seemingly entranced by what he was listening to. A blush crept up along your neck as the song ended.

“Didn’t realize you had that side to you,” he muttered in astonishment. “Where did you-”

“Church choir,” you uttered abruptly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him even more. “Didn’t take you as the religious kind.”

“I’m not.” You swallowed thickly, looking away.

“Your parents-”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a little harsher than intended.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off, before sharing about his background instead. “My parents were kind of shitheads too. Well, mostly my old man.” There was another pause, as he shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Liked the bottle a bit too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You placed your hand over his, as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Don’t be. The band’s our family now.” He shifted himself up to his elbows, kicking mud off his boots. “Anyway, we don’t have to talk about your folks if you want.”

You softened up at this, realizing that he still had your best interests at heart, though a part of you felt like divulging what you had kept to yourself for so long. “It’s embarrassing,” you began. “Singing like that, kinda reminds me of the past I wanted to leave behind.”

Twiddling your fingers anxiously, you continued. “My parents were very into that whole religious thing. You could say it was almost cult-like,” you laughed nervously. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be, so I got out of it.”

Frowning, you pursed your lips as a vague memory of leaving your hometown amid a heated argument and tears came to mind. “Haven’t spoken to them in years. Probably disowned by them by now.”

“Their loss,” he replied sharply, staring you dead in the eye.

It wasn’t something you had expected to slip out of Leon’s mouth, but he had articulated it so transparently. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“You could’ve been a great televangelist,” he joked, and you chuckled along with him, finding humor in the otherwise unpleasant subject.

“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” You took a swig of the vodka bottle he offered you, wincing as the smooth liquid burned its way down your throat. “You know, when I’m up there performing, it feels like I can be whoever I want to be.”

“You can be whoever you want with me,” he spoke softly. You tried to search for any disingenuity in his eyes, but found none. “I like you all the same.”

“I like you too,” you professed, only to contort your face in horror a split second later, as you realized the implications of what you had just said. “Uh, I mean, not like that,” you sputtered helplessly. “You know, like-”

He rolled his eyes and snickered. “C’mere.” Tugging at your hand, he pulled you in close, giving you a solid hug. 

Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling deeply and relaxing in his embrace. Both of you carried a mild scent of alcohol, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to find a like-minded soul who saw you for who you were, as you did with him.

A random thought popped up in your head that you wanted to run by him that instant. It gnawed at your chest, waiting to escape. “Leon?”

“Mm?” You could feel him nuzzling your neck and wondered if he had gone past being tipsy.

“What do you think about writing a softer song? Like something more emotive,” you explained.

He still didn’t let you go. “I think that sounds great,” he murmured into your ear. “We’ll write it together.”

“Just you and me, us against the world,” he added wistfully.

You wondered what had gotten into him, but the idea of working on this creative project together felt right to you. Like a link in the thread of fate that was meant to happen.

“Us against the world,” you repeated, sealing your fate, as you felt his smile against your skin.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On a hot, sunny afternoon, you were grabbing milkshakes with Claire, before heading over to the skatepark, where another friend of hers, Steve, was trying out a couple of new tricks. He had a slender build and spiky red hair, with a punk aesthetic. In other words, the perfect skater boy. You were pretty sure he had a crush on Claire, but she seemed to be either oblivious or ignored it outright. Whenever he landed a cool trick, he’d look over at Claire for approval, only for her to give him a friendly thumbs up. 

While you sat by the benches, Claire turned towards you, wiggling her eyebrows as she commented, “You and Leon have been hanging out a lot together lately.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to appear nonchalant about it, as you sipped on your milkshake guardedly.

Truth be told, the increasing amount of time spent with Leon was causing certain inconvenient feelings to grow within you. You lied to yourself, claiming you saw him as nothing more than a friend. Falling for a lovable asshole was out of the question, especially one who might break your heart. Yet, the day where both of you drank in the park, accepting each other in ways you never thought possible, constantly replayed in your mind. Then there was the song you were working on together, the late-night calls, and the pick-me-ups for days when either of you needed support. He would drop everything to help you, and you were there when he sought comfort.

Each time you saw him flirting with one of the female fans or exchanging coy looks with Ada, you died a little inside. He was just a horny 23-year-old guy chasing after anyone with legs - at least, that's what you tried to convince yourself. So, you stayed silent about the whole affair, holding back how you really felt about him, in order to preserve your friendship.

“Anything going on between you two?” Claire asked casually.

What else could you expect from a final-year Communications major? Of course, she would have picked up on how weird you’ve been acting lately.

Still, you continued fighting a losing battle. “We’re just friends,” you asserted, poking absentmindedly at the leftover froth and cream in your drink with the straw.

She wasn’t having it though. “The question is, do you want it to stay that way?” Checkmate. You could almost see her gloating at you as you froze.

You shook your head, sighing defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter, he’s into other girls anyway.”

“Have you told him?” Crap, she got you there again.

You just gave her a noncommittal shrug.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you.” She set her drink down with an air of determination, as if she meant business. “In all my sad years of knowing that loser, he’s never behaved this way with a girl like you. Maybe he just needs a little push to see that.” Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side. “You should tell him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You sucked up the rest of your drink until there was nothing more than the bubbly, gurgling sound of air and drops of fluid. With a mischievous twist of your mouth, you added, “By the way, you should probably tell Steve you’re not interested.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When you had finally plucked up the courage to try and tell Leon about your true feelings, things didn’t go exactly as planned. For starters, he had been rather distracted about the upcoming music festival that your band would be participating in and specifically, a promo event that was tied to it. It was all he wanted to talk about, so you couldn’t get a word in.

“It’ll be the perfect opportunity to get noticed,” he pleaded. “You have to go!”

“I’m not- I don’t do very well in these types of social situations,” you argued. “You know that.”

“Excuses,” he huffed dismissively. “It’s gonna be fun, come on.”

“Chris and Claire will be there with you,” you countered again.

Placing his hands on your shoulders, he declared, “No, I want you.”

Although you knew he didn’t mean it any other way, your cheeks flushed as you turned your head away, heart throbbing at the innocuous statement he had just uttered.

“I’ll be there beside you, the whole time,” he promised. “Please, just come along?”

Biting your lip, you weighed your options, even though your emotions had already gotten the better of you, and you had made your decision regardless of what he might say. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.”

Unfortunately, you wish you had never agreed to him in the first place, because 24 hours later, you were singing an entirely different tune.

Leon had picked you up and headed over to the event with you as arranged. It was held at a swanky members-only club with a lot of pomp, ass-kissing and too much champagne. You felt completely out of place there, but tagged along like a lost puppy behind Leon, who was reveling in the publicity and getting to know who’s who. A number of the other festival bands were there, but you weren’t particularly close to them beyond a courteous ‘Hello’. You fiddled with the cocktail that Leon had got you, praying that the Redfield siblings would show up sometime soon.

At some point, Leon caught your attention, every so often looking over his shoulder for something, or someone. “I, uh, I need to head to the restroom.”

You nodded in puzzlement, wondering why he seemed so shifty all of a sudden.

“Cool, um, I’ll make it quick.” He gave you a sheepish smile and a wink before heading off hurriedly.

He looked even apologetic? You shrugged off that thought, nursing the lone drink in your hands as you thumbed the fabric of your silvery playsuit. After a while, you checked the time on your phone. A good ten minutes had passed, but he hadn’t returned. Weird, did something happen to him?

As you continued waiting, it started to dawn on you how oppressive and suffocating the atmosphere was. It reminded you of the times when you were surrounded by the rest of the community you’d grown up with in church, scrutinizing your every move. Cold sweat formed on your palms as your breathing grew rapid and shallow. A sense of dread developed within you as your vision narrowed.

Oh god, oh god, not here, no… You latched onto the wall for support, trying to apply the tactics you usually used to calm yourself down.

“Hey there!” Claire’s upbeat voice pierced through the downward spiral you had nearly been consumed by. “Where’s Leon?”

“Um, he went to the rest-”

“What the fuck.” Claire’s jaw dropped wide open and when you followed her line of sight, you understood why.

From afar, you spotted Leon and Ada in tow, sneakily heading out of the restrooms. Bold red lipstick was smudged across Leon’s face as he wiped away at it furiously, and his pants remained unzipped, like an afterthought. Ada combed through her ruffled hair with her fingers, adjusting the bottom of her figure-hugging dress. There were no guesses as to what had occurred there. Your mouth ran dry.

“That fucking-” Claire growled. “Ugh, I’m gonna wring his neck!”

“Claire, it’s okay.” You tried to placate her, but your voice was quivering.

She turned towards you, eyeing you sympathetically as she rubbed your back. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Well, Chris is getting some drinks. Let’s go join him?”

You accepted, making your way towards the refreshments table, still mulling over what you had just seen. As you picked up a glass of sparkling wine, Claire relayed the entire scenario over to Chris, who just shook his head disapprovingly.

A few moments later, Leon had stumbled upon your group. “Where’ve you been? I was looking all over for you!” He barked, visibly frustrated at your disappearance.

Claire scoffed, and without another word, bumped against his shoulder as she brushed past him. Chris followed suit, without the bumping, though he made a face at Leon as he chugged down his beer. They expected you to come along, but you hung back, giving Leon one more chance to redeem himself.

“What’s up with those two?” he muttered in annoyance.

You held his gaze impassively. “What took you so long?”

“Is this a trick question or what?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he tried to evade your quizzing.

But you didn’t let up, not budging from your place until you had an answer.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “There was a queue, okay?”

A rush of disappointment and heartache surged through you. The least he could’ve done was to be honest with you, but he hadn’t even managed that. He was lying directly to your face, which currently felt as if it had been given a tight slap in humiliation. With whatever dignity you had left, you excused yourself from the table, heading over to the Redfield siblings, as Leon looked on in incredulity and disbelief.

You spent the rest of the evening with Chris and Claire, who were mostly interested in the free food and drink, and knew a couple of the chiller, more down-to-earth musicians on a personal level. In an unexpected turnaround of events, you were actually having fun chatting with people who appeared to be on the same wavelength as you and making wisecracks about corporate functions like these.

In fact, it served as a fairly effective distraction from the boy you were pretending didn’t exist. He lurked around like a shadow, leaning against the walls in the corridors and the sides of the rooms. You saw him everywhere, hovering just within reach. Scowling moodily at you and your newfound friends, he tossed back a never ending supply of alcoholic drinks. You suspected he was on the verge of getting sloshed by now, and although a part of you was concerned about his well-being, you didn’t want to play the role of a babysitter, at least not for tonight.

Towards the end of the night, Chris and Claire had decided to take their leave and you would too, after getting some fresh air by the pool. However, this proved to be a mistake, as the minute you were left alone, you heard heavy footsteps shuffling up next to you. You felt a pit in your stomach, knowing well who it was before even facing the culprit.

“What did I do wrong?” Leon was slurring his words, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. The stench of alcohol on him was overwhelming.

Wrinkling your nose, you backed away, stating plainly, “You’re drunk, just take a cab home.”

“Don’t-” He grabbed your arm, attempting to steady himself. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Leon,” you warned.

“What happened to us against the world, huh?” he retorted.

“Did you think about that when you ditched me to fuck around?” The accusation tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to rein it in.

His grip on you loosened, as guilt flashed across his eyes. “That- I, it wasn’t-”

“You’ve always been a bit of an asshole,” you interjected. “But a loveable one, who was also sweet and kind.” Tears started to collect at the corners of your eyes. “Now, you’re just completely horrible,” you spat, with a look of disgust plastered across your face.

Leon’s face contorted in anguish as he tightened his hold on your arm again. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t like you like this,” you admitted, trying to break free from his grasp, as tears started to roll down your cheeks.

He tried to reach out with his other hand and caress your face, but you pushed it away. “Let go,” you demanded.

However, it seemed as if he couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to be as far away from him as possible. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Can’t we just sort this-”

Then, something in you snapped. All the times when you had finally had enough and set your boundaries in the past, burning bridges along the way, came to a head. “No!” you yelled, shoving him off you, as he fell backwards and landed into the pool with a loud splash.

Some of the spectators laughed and jeered, as he floundered around mostly in shock, while you stormed off the site.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next band practice session was awkward to say the least. You were running a few minutes late and when you’d reached, you could hear the shouting from outside the door to the studio.

“... sleeping with the enemy!”

“How is Ada an enemy?”

“You’re always messing things up for us!”

“Okay, break it up you two.”

Expelling a hefty sigh, you swung the door open, and the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. You could feel their gaze on you as you placed your bag in the corner before getting to your usual position behind the mic, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Leon. The festival was coming up in the next month, and on top of that, you still had a smaller gig to play in between then. The last thing you wanted was for personal issues to get in the way of professionalism, so you buried your emotions deep within the abyss.

“Hey, um, you, uh-” Leon croaked out, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him, turning instead towards Claire.

“Sorry I’m late, shall we get started?”

Despite regarding you with a look of concern, she obliged and Chris counted off before all of you jammed to the opening song.

It continued on like this, where you gave Leon the cold shoulder. You had stopped hanging out with him and only communicated when necessary. He didn’t realize how much he would miss your company until it was gone. Things felt duller and emptier without you. Whenever he wanted to share his joys, sorrows and just the mundane things that were happening in his life, he’d try to call you, only for it to go unanswered. He left you countless voice messages, each more desperate than the last one, ranging from a mixture of hurt, blame and grief. It had only been a little over two weeks, but he was starved and alone, without the person he could truly count on. The song you had been working on together remained unfinished.

During the smaller gig you were playing at, you rocked out with Chris and Claire near the back, instead of vibing with Leon at the front. Maybe you were being petty with the way you were treating Leon, but he hadn’t given you a proper apology since the incident. The chemistry and connection between the two of you on stage was lost. Nonetheless, you gave the performance your all, and the fans went wild, so much so that when you crowd surfed, you ended up with shredded leggings and a bloody mouth. A random fan tried to grope you, but security intervened and you were dragged back up on stage by Leon, whose eyes were clouded with worry and apprehension. However, the adrenaline numbed the pain and you finished the gig on a high note, leaving the crowd buzzing with exhilaration and the sound of thunderous applause. It was a confidence booster and a great way to warm up for the festival gig.

Backstage, Claire helped you with cleaning the cut on your lip, as you reassured her that you were fine and such injuries were inevitable when you threw yourself headfirst into the crowd. She made you promise not to pull that stunt again, at least for the foreseeable future, before leaving you to finish up.

Just as you were heading out to regroup, an older, bearded man with neatly styled, graying hair and donning a snazzy waistcoat approached you.

“Brian Irons.” 

He held out a sleek, matte finish card with a crisp white background, his name in bold, black font in the center. Below, in smaller, elegant sans-serif type, were the record label he managed and his contact details. A thin, silver border surrounded the edges of the card adding a touch of sophistication. You took it from him, rapt by the design.

“Shall we speak somewhere in private?” he offered, beckoning towards one of the empty dressing rooms towards the end of the hallway.

In your elation and unwillingness to turn down such a timely opportunity, you jumped the gun, accepting his request immediately without waiting for your bandmates. Instead, you messaged them the details and informed them you would join them soon after.

“Amazing show,” he complimented. “You really are quite stunning.”

“Thanks, um, Mr. Irons.” You shifted your weight between both feet nervously, unsure of how to respond. Something in the way he looked at you made you seem like a prey caught in a bear’s trap and his words felt loaded.

“For you, it’s Brian, honey.” His lecherous tone sent shivers down your spine.

“Brian,” you echoed, slowly backing away to put some distance between you and the man.

“So, you kids wanna get signed, huh? Stars Rebellion, wasn’t it?” He advanced towards you with deliberate, measured steps, as if he were playing with his food at the dinner table.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, regretting the decision you had made earlier and the direction this conversation seemed to be steering in.

“Well, I can certainly help with that…” 

Your back was flat against the wall now, as he sidled up to you, eliminating any space between you as he caged you in with his body. His breath felt hot and heavy against your cheek, and reeked of coffee and cigarettes. As his hand rode up your thigh, you closed your eyes, holding your breath as a nauseating wave crashed over you and you tried not to puke.

“The fuck’s going on here?” A sharp, biting voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Brian pulled away and you saw Leon by the doorway of the dressing room seething with fury and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, easy there, kid. Just getting acquainted, that’s all.” Brian tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Leon wasn’t having any of it.

“Get away from her,” he ordered, his steely demeanor unrelenting. “Now.”

Brian backed off, but came up to Leon threateningly. “Talking back to me like that?” he sneered. “I’ll make sure you’re ruined, punk.”

Leon took a step closer, issuing an unspoken challenge. “Yeah? Go ahead, sue me.”

At this, Brian cocked his fist back before taking a swing at Leon. Leon ducked to avoid the blow, shoving him aside as he unleashed a quick jab which connected with Brian’s nose. Brian fell to the ground, whimpering in pain while covering his face with both hands. Blood trickled down, staining his shirt as he cowered before Leon.

“Touch her again and I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Leon hollered. “You hear me?”

Brian nodded furiously as Leon walked briskly across the room, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before leading you out with him. Once you were at a safe distance, he cupped your face in his palms, examining you for any further signs of injuries.

“You okay? Did he hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, instead you clung to him in a tight embrace as your body trembled uncontrollably. He held you against his chest, resting his chin on your head as he stroked your hair soothingly. Both of you stayed there for a while, locked in each other's arms, until he suggested, “Let’s get you home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When Leon had informed Chris and Claire about the events that had transpired, they vowed to keep a closer watch on you and each other. There was now an agreement that if the whole band could not be present at a meeting, then at least two people at the minimum should be there.

Your band had upped the intensity of the practice sessions, as the date of the festival loomed nearer. However, when Jill spontaneously announced that she was organizing a house party at her place, all of you jumped at the invitation, seeing it as a way to let off some steam.

At the moment, you and Leon were in this weird, intermediary state of being not quite friends, yet not quite on opposing ends either. It seemed as if it was eating away at him inside, since the minute he saw you at Jill’s place, he weaved through the throng of familiar faces and approached you, asking if you were ready to talk about the elephant in the room. It wasn’t possible to keep ignoring him forever and you were tired of all the arguments and drama that had occurred lately. So, you decided to let him into your life again, or maybe just a foot in the door for now.

In one of the quieter rooms of the house, you sat beside Leon as he initiated an apology for the first time for his prior actions. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, I really am.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I was a complete dick-”

“Yeah, you were,” you replied testily. “I panicked, when you, um, took your time.”

“What? Shit.” He looked down at his hands in shame, balling them into fists. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want that to happen to you.” 

Clenching his jaw, you saw him drown in a sense of self-loathing. “God, I keep fucking things up. Please-” He took your hands in his, squeezing them as if he were proposing. “I’ll make it up to you, just give me another chance to prove it.”

“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was as if a dam had broken, and he couldn't stop himself from pouring out all his admissions. “You weren’t talking to me, you weren’t returning my calls…”

“Whenever something stupid came up, all I could think about was how much I wanted to tell you about it.” His eyes glazed over, as if he were recalling a distant memory. “Guess I kinda took you for granted.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you made yet another decision against your better judgment. Although you had no guarantee that he would not repeat the same mistake, you placed your trust in him again, hoping that this time he would treat you as you deserved. 

“Okay.” You nodded, offering a weak smile. “We’ll try again.”

You yelped as he suddenly gathered you into a snug embrace, grinning widely from ear to ear. “I got you back,” he murmured into your ear.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you teased half-jokingly.

“Guys, get your free shit! Oh-” 

You and Leon quickly disentangled yourselves from each other as you saw Jill staring with her mouth hanging open. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No!” Both of you exclaimed in unison.

Jill rolled her eyes, her face etched with doubt, though she didn’t probe further. “Anyway, downstairs! First come, first served.” She jerked her thumb in the direction behind her, before trudging off to the next room.

“You wanna?” Leon gave you a knowing smile.

“Hell, sure, why not?” You shrugged, once again erupting in laughter with the boy you wanted to cuddle with and strangle at the same time.

So, that was how both of you ended up lying next to each other, strung out on a mattress facing the window. You knew the drill. Jill’s housemates were creative types whose generosity knew no bounds. House parties with them involved usually meant a certain supply of free drugs, which people could choose to engage in recreationally. You figured you were being very rock’n’roll by doing it, but sometimes you enjoyed how open they made you feel, like you could loosen up and forget about the things bothering you.

As usual, you and Leon had taken the same pills as before, both of you agreeing to take care of each other throughout the duration of the high. He held your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, as you giggled over a topic you had been discussing.

“Ready to watch the curtain breathing contest?” he chuckled.

“There.” You pointed in front of you, indicating that the shades were now moving on their own, like ripples in the tide.

“Atta girl.”

It felt nice like this, laying beside him. You could talk to him about anything in the world and he’d listen intently to you. That’s when you thought it was a good idea to make your confession. 

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” you gulped, your heart constricting though the urge to reveal your secret was stronger. “As in, more than a friend.”

He angled his head towards you, gazing at your expression with an affectionate smile. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Leon Scott Kennedy, asking me why-?” you snorted, clamping your free hand over your mouth as you struggled to hold in your cackles. As if he wasn’t aware he had a reputation for sleeping around with no strings attached. “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost.”

He tutted and sighed. “You wouldn’t have been. It’s different… with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re one of the few people who’d tell me exactly as it is, you care to listen,” he explained. “It just feels right, being with you, and… I trust you.”

You were reluctant to take what he had said at face value, after all both of you were tripping. As if sensing your hesitance, he professed, “I like you too, a lot.”

Still, a part of you denied it. “You’re just saying that.”

He groaned in vexation. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

Narrowing his eyes at you, he huffed in defeat, “Look, ask me again tomorrow when we’re sober, okay? Pretty sure I’ll say the exact same thing.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “You better not try anything right now though, ’cause I bite.” Baring your teeth, you snarled at him playfully.

“Uh huh.” He burst out laughing. “You’re kinda high off your face, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.” You winked.

“Alright, let’s try to get some sleep,” he grunted, shifting to his side as he extended his arms towards you like an invitation. “No funny business,” he promised.

You relented, nestling yourself into his arms with your back against his chest. He dipped his nose into your hair, breathing in the peace of the moment. Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, your bodies spooned together in perfect symmetry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The first rays of the morning light filtered in through the curtains, as you awoke to the collective chirps of the dawn chorus. You squinted, pressing a palm over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, as you stretched yourself out against Leon’s sleeping body and yawned groggily. He stirred a bit from your movement, but easily fell back into slumber, snoring deeply. You remembered everything you had disclosed to him the night before and it scared you. What if he didn’t feel the same way when he woke up? What if it had all been a mistake? How would you be able to look him in the eye now? You felt anxiety rising in your chest.

Stealthily, you lifted his arm off you, creeping out of the bed and making your escape before you had to face the consequences of your actions. Grabbing your stuff, you snuck out of the room, tiptoeing so no one noticed you exiting the front door of the house.

It was about an hour later when Leon woke up, confused to find you missing from the mattress with him. Though in your rush, you had accidentally left behind your notebook, which you carried around with you everywhere to jot down inspiration for song lyrics. Picking up the chestnut brown, leatherbound journal, curiosity got the better of him as he flipped it open to the page you had bookmarked.

As he skimmed across the words you had scribbled down in your off-beat, cursive handwriting, he gradually realized that they were the draft lyrics to the song you had been previously working on together with him, before the temporary break in your friendship. He re-read the text again to catch the meaning between the lines. It was then that it struck him, you had essentially composed a love letter from within, expressing the depth of your feelings and yearning for him. It made his heart ache that you had been keeping this from him the whole time and he had been blind to it all.

Tapping your name on his mobile screen, he called you right away, but it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. What were you afraid of? He thought he had been clear in how he felt about you last night, but it seemed like you had gone into hiding again. 

Showing up at your place directly after this may cause you to retreat even further, but he was determined to win you over somehow. A plan began to hatch in his mind, as he drove home with your book in the passenger seat. Despite his exhaustion from the party, he set out to work on the music for the lyrics you had written, spending the rest of the day and even pulling an all-nighter to finish it.

After about a dozen energy drinks and cups of coffee, he marched up unannounced to the door of your dormitory, where you shared a room with another final-year student from your class, rapping on it several times for good measure. Your roommate opened the door, but her expression gave everything away before she had the chance to concoct any sort of tall tale. She could never really keep a poker face.

Placing his arm against the door to prevent it from closing on him, he called out your name. You appeared in his view then timidly, mumbling to your roommate that you would handle it. She packed up a few things and left, giving you and Leon some privacy.

“Your book.” He passed it over to you, before setting his guitar case down by your bed. “Open it.”

You glanced briefly at him in mild bewilderment, but did as he asked. It flopped open to a page with a deep crease in the center, naturally showing how frequently that section had been revisited. You gasped when you saw a bunch of chord notes written below the lyrics you had penned down from earlier. Your complexion turned a light shade of scarlet upon realizing that Leon had discovered your innermost thoughts, but there was no awkwardness in his behavior towards you, he was calm and collected.

Unzipping the case, he took out his acoustic guitar and perched himself on the edge of your bed. Resting the instrument on his thigh, he grasped its neck, tilting it slightly as he strummed a couple of opening chords.

“I pieced together the melody for this. Maybe you can join in when you’re comfortable,” he suggested.

It seemed he had memorized the entire song by heart, as he didn’t need your notebook for guidance. His mellow, honeyed voice cascaded through the room as he serenaded you with the song both of you had crafted, albeit separately. Now, you were coming together to bring it to life.

Seating yourself next to him, you harmonized with his vocals, pouring the entirety of your emotions and every moment of longing you had built up within you into the music, until the final note trailed off. Throughout it all, Leon had observed you closely, captivated by the raw, unfiltered quality of your voice and the vulnerability you displayed in your delivery of the lyrics.

His gaze lowered from your eyes to your mouth, as he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, kissing you tenderly. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he caressed it, coaxing soft sighs and moans which he returned as you reciprocated the kiss. Panting as he came up for air, he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling every dip and groove, as if mesmerized by its outline and shape. He didn’t need to utter a single word for you to understand that his feelings for you mirrored those you had confessed in the song.

Closing the distance, he pressed into your lips again, this time more fervently, as the kisses grew in intensity. His nose nudged against yours and you felt his warm breath tickling your skin, as he grasped the back of your neck, taking you deeper, breathing every essence of you in. Clutching his shoulders, you parted your lips slightly as he licked along the entrance, allowing his tongue to meet yours, twirling around it as saliva coated your lips, forming a glistening string between the two of you when you pulled away.

Grazing his knuckles delicately across your cheek, he asked, “Do you believe me now?”

You smiled, claiming his lips with your own in response.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you performed the song live was at the festival, where thousands had gathered to watch the impressive lineup of bands. Chris and Claire had fallen in love with it when you and Leon had showed it to them, and were keen to expand the band’s range into something that delved into the territory of rock ballads.

All four of you wondered how it would be received by the audience, as it was rather different from the punk rock style your band was known for. Even so, you were psyched to finally showcase it to the public.

It was the song you ended with on your setlist, and the one which created such a poignant, special atmosphere, that it became a memory you would treasure forever. The hall fell into hushed anticipation as Leon plucked his guitar strings under the soft glow of the stage lights. Each note resonated deeply, minimalistic and stripped back, which added to the earnesty of the music.

Your voice opened the duet, intimate and haunting, as the melody unfolded like a story being told, rich with longing and a melancholic beauty that ached. The audience stood there entranced, as a soulful rhythm built up with the entry of the bass guitar and drums, adding another layer to the sound.

Leon moved towards you, sharing your mic as he sang his part, cementing a bond between you. Locking eyes with you, he pressed his forehead against yours, mingling sweat and tears as you both continued singing into the same mic, your heartfelt lyrics heavy with emotion. Some of the older people in the crowd sparked their lighters, while the younger ones whipped out their mobile phones, swaying them in time to the music, until everything was awash in a sea of flickering lights.

Your lips and Leon’s were barely touching as the last notes lingered in the air. His faint breath fanned across your mouth, as he swept his fingertips along your jawline, resting them under your chin. The space was thick with palpable tension, and your stomach fluttered just as it had the first time he had kissed you. Like a magnetic pull which he could not resist, he placed his lips over yours, kissing you again and again. It was as if the world had paused, just for the two of you. 

Singing this way no longer reminded you of punishment and shame, but rather of the connection you and Leon had. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he led you off-stage, past the phenomenal reaction of the crowd and the fist bumps shared between Chris and Claire.

Ada came around not only to congratulate him, but also to test the waters and seize the opportunity to flirt. Despite that, he held onto you tightly, maintaining a suitable distance from the woman he had previously been infatuated with, yet feeling nothing deeper compared to what he felt for you. It took him more than half a year, an explosive fallout and a few weeks of your absence to realize that. She smirked and shook her head, walking away as Wesker continued to ignore you.

Some things never change, yet some things had.

“How about some time alone?” he proposed. “Just us.”

Us. It was always meant to be about us.

You nuzzled your nose gently with his. “Yeah, just us.”

[starniolosposts]

invite (2)

part one, part two

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: the popular frat boy, chris sturniolo, unexpectedly invites you, the shy and quiet girl, to his frat party.

warnings: smut, i have a thing for chris’ fingers, fingering, very very slight overstimulation, chris being sweet but dirty

notes: why is he a little subby at the end, i dont know? i like the thought of chris letting the girl he’s obsessed with do anything to him even if he likes to be dominant (im going feral rn)

yes, there will be part three

your pussy clenched as his lips suddenly grazed your ear and he lowly whispered, “do you want my fingers, y/n?”

you whine shamelessly and nod, too worked up from a simple whisper and some light touching.

“yeah? then beg.”

your face flushed and you gulped. “b-beg?”

chris hummed and leaned back to lock eyes with you. “beg or you wont get anything.” he demanded, his eyes dark.

your chest heaved with small pants, not expecting chris to be so dominant and commanding, but it stirred something in your stomach. “…please, chris. i-i want your fingers.” you were desperate at this point and beyond feeling shy, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps on your skin.

chris cursed under his breath and nodded, “good job, sweetheart. if at anytime you want to stop, just say red, okay? ill stop immediately.”

you nod in agreement, and then suddenly your back arches off the wall as his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit. your mouth is agape with silent pleasure, eyebrows furrowed at the new and blazing feeling of someone else’s fingers on your pussy (especially chris’).

chris bites his bottom lip as his eyes stay on your expression, loving the way you crumble beneath his touch. he notices the way your thighs encage around his hand and the way your legs tremble and struggle to hold you up. “you’re so sensitive, baby.” he murmurs, barely moving his fingers in small circles on your clit and your folding over, whimpering.

your head comes to rest onto his chest, your hands that were around his neck are now buried in his hair and fisting it tightly. chris’ free arm now holds onto your waist, keeping you somewhat stable since your legs felt like jelly.

“how does it feel, sweetheart?” chris asks softly, putting slightly more pressure. you can only moan softly into his chest.

“look at me, y/n.”

you slowly lean your head back to stare up at him, flushed and dazed. “feels so good, chris. please don’t stop.” you whisper, the thrumming pleasure in your veins is causing your mind to blank. all you can think about is chris.

chris groans at the look on your face, your flushed cheeks, teary and half lidded eyes, glistening lips. “fuck, you making me go fucking crazy.” he mutters, his fingers circling your clit faster. he feels your thighs clench, your body tightening, and he watches your face scrunch in pure pleasure.

“come on my fingers, baby. i need it, please.” chris whispers into your ear, and hearing him plead for something so dirty…

the blazing coil in your stomach tightens at his words and when it snaps, your whole body tremors. shockwaves roll over your body, your pussy tightening around nothing and dripping down into your lace panties. “f-fuck…”

chris holds you up by your waist, his fingers slowing down but not stopping. “so good for me, baby. dripping on my fingers.” he bites his lip as he feels you dripping and pulsing. pride and desire pool in his stomach knowing he made you like this.

you whine as his fingers don’t stop on your throbbing clit, “c-chris! too much.. i can’t!” your hips jerk away from him.

chris chuckles and slips his hand out of your panties, giving you mercy this time. he leans and brushes his lips against yours with a small smile, and your breath hitches. it would be your first kiss…

“you did so good, y/n. take some deep breaths.” chris orders softly, leaning back and brushing your hair out of your face.

you realize your panting and nod, taking some deep breathes as he said. your heart rate slows and the haze of pleasure slowly lifts. your face turns beet red as you realize what just happened.

chris smirks as he sees your embarrassment. he thinks its cute your still getting embarrassed when he just had his hand between your legs. “why are you getting all shy and embarrassed now?” he asks, amused.

you turn your head away and avoid his eyes. “because… i don’t know. this is the first time i’ve done anything and i don’t know what to do after.. that.” you ramble, feeling very stupid. you glance at him and it makes you feel better that he’s smiling cheekily at you.

chris shakes his head and brings you closer by your waist. “don’t worry about it. we can stop here.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “are you sure? we can continue. i feel bad.” you admit.

chris raises an eyebrow, “i’m sure. i don’t want you to push yourself to fuck me just because you feel bad.” he teases.

you blush and frantically shake tour head, “i-i didn’t mean it like that! i just… want you to feel good too.” your hands are resting on his chest as you look up at him.

chris bites back a groan, twitching in his pants just from the way you look up at him with those eyes.

he can imagine the way your eyes would water, your plump and wet lips around him, your throat tightening around his cock perfectly. he shakes his head to get that thought out, “i know you didn’t mean it like that. and i’m.. i’m fine.” he grits out, even though he’s so painfully hard in his jeans. he continues, “next time you can do whatever you want with me.”

you shyly smile, “anything?”

“mhm, yeah. anything.” he gulps, wanting to know what you were thinking of doing to him.

“okay, next time.” you lick your lips.

chris nods and glances at your lips. “can i kiss you, please? i cant wait any longer.”

you laugh and nod nervously, “yeah.”

chris leans in and plants his lips on yours, and you moan quietly at the feeling. his lips are soft and slow, helping you catch on to what to do. you tilt your head opposite ways and chris opens his mouth, so you do the same.

fuck, you think you found your new favorite thing to do. kiss chris. well, and to have his hand between your legs.

i don’t know why i didn’t have you fuck in this one

but im going to make a part 3 of this, with just smut of you becoming a little more bold and taking what you want from chris ;) (y’all will fuck i promise 🫡)

@junnniiieee07

[worldlxvlys]

Chris fucking the attitude outta you

THICC BLACK GF QUEEN ( me )

Like if u want details !!

The D is fire 🔥🔥

oh he’s def ass grabbing spanking whatever ( if ur comfortable )

Def choking while he’s doing it !!

Literally has no intention of stopping even when ur like pushing his hand away ( IF U WANNA USE A SAFE WORD FEEL FREE BUT UP TO YOU )

Location?? Bathroom sink😛😛

accessory

chris sturniolo x black! reader

warnings: c’mon. it’s smut. p in v, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, squirting, cream pie, overstimulation, thigh fucking

a/n: happy bhm, hope you likeee <33

i look good.

i stared at myself in the mirror, admiring my features.

i wore a tight baby pink dress that ended right below my ass. it hugged my body perfectly and showed off my thick thighs.

chris hated when i wore this dress in public, but i love it.

of course, he’s never actually vocalized his opinion on it.

probably because he knows it won’t stop me.

while it does leave little to the imagination, it makes me feel confident.

and it always leads to earth-shattering sex.

while i continued to stare at myself, i heard chris walk up behind me.

“you look so fucking perfect ma, holy shit” he said as he looked me up and down.

his gaze stopped at my hair, staring at the curls.

“you missed one” he said as he gently lifted up a piece of my hair, showing me the twist i somehow managed not to get to.

“can you do it for me? the ones in the back are a bitch to untwist”

“of course, baby. and don’t worry, i’ll be gentle” he said, knowing how careful i was with my hair.

“thanks” i said as he slowly and gently unwound the two strands of hair.

he held it up when he finished, pointing to the end, “ look at how cute the ends are” he said with a grin on his face.

i stared at him through the mirror, lightly shaking my head at him with a smile.

his hands found their way onto my hips. he moved one hand down towards my thighs, while the other wrapped around my stomach.

“you sure you wanna wear this dress?” he whispered into my ear, making chills run down my body.

his tone of voice was completely different than what it had been not even two minutes ago. he glared at me in the mirror, as though he was daring me to test him.

i stared right back at him, smirking slightly “yup” i said.

“ ok, baby. how about i give you a little accessory ?” my eyebrows furrowed at this.

accessory? what is he talking about ?

“yeah, baby. i think my cum dripping down your leg would really make the whole look come together. don’t you think ?”

oh.

his words traveled straight to my core as i squeezed my thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction.

he chuckled at that, “you like that, huh ?” he placed a kiss on my neck and brought his hand to my thighs, lightly slapping them.

“open up, pretty girl” i obliged, separating my thighs for him.

he put his hand between my legs, pushing his hand into my panties.

“fuck, chris” i sighed out, reaching forward to hold onto the sink.

he pushed the dress up to my waist, giving himself better access.

“god, look at that ass” he whispered, striking it with the palm of his hand.

i moaned at the feeling, making chris look at me through the mirror again.

“feel good, baby?” he asked as he ran his fingers through my folds.

“fuck yes, chris” i moaned out.

“pull down the top for me, baby. wanna see those pretty tits”

i pulled down the straps of my dress and tugged the top down far enough to expose my bra.

it was light purple, one of his favorite colors to see against my dark skin.

“fuck, you trying to kill me ma?” he asked as his free hand immediately went to cup my tits through my bra.

without warning, he moved his fingers up and down my folds. they were moving fast.

“chris!” i screamed out in surprise, gripping onto the sink tighter.

he quickly unclasped my bra, throwing it to the side and moving his hand to my throat.

he lightly squeezed my neck while looking at me in the mirror.

“this what you were thinking about when you put on this dress, baby?”

i let out a strangled moan in response.

“is that what you love so much about it, ma?”

he sped up his fingers, making sure to graze my clit with each upward motion.

“shit, chris! i’m gonna-” he stopped moving his hand before i could finish, making me whine.

“why’d you stop?” i breathed out.

he quickly took off his pants and boxers. “enjoy it while you can, cause i promise i won’t be stopping again anytime soon”

he lightly pushed my back, bending me over the sink.

tugging my panties down, he gripped my ass with his large hands.

he guided his dick to my folds, lathering it in my wetness.

i squeezed my thighs together in response, making him groan out.

“fuck. love your thighs, so smooth” he ran his hands along my skin. “so soft” he moaned as he continued to fuck my thighs.

“feel so good around me” his head fell back, eyes closed as he continued to rut his cock between my thighs.

his dick rubbed against my pussy, making me clench around nothing.

without warning, he pushed himself inside of me.

a string of curses fell out of both of our mouths as he filled me up.

he began to move, snapping his hips into mine.

he let out a long groan “always so fucking tight, ma. jesus christ”

my pussy hugged his thick cock, and the suction-like grip made an obnoxious squelching sound.

“shittt chris” i whined as he stretched me out, the pain quickly turning into pleasure.

“faster, please chris!” i moaned out.

he sped his hips up, pounding into me rapidly.

“fuck, fuck, fuck” i moaned, my voice shaking every time our hips met.

“god, i love watching your tits bounce” he groaned as he squeezed them.

my eyebrows furrowed as i felt my orgasm approaching.

“c’mon baby, i know you’re close. give it to me”

“chris! i’m cumming!” i screamed out as i released on his cock.

his pace never slowed as he continued to drill into me.

he gripped onto my dress that was now bunched up at my waist, using it as leverage as he continued his movements.

“fuck, chris. feels so so good” i moaned out, barely able to get anything out above a whisper.

“look so good like this ma. fuck, i’m gonna cum” he groaned.

“yes! please, please fill me up” with that, he shot his load inside of me.

after a few thrusts, his pace slowed.

“fuck yourself on my cock”

my eyes widened, “what? chris i’m too sens-” he slapped my ass, making my body lurch forward.

“you wanted to wear the dress so i’d fuck you, right ?” i nodded.

he slapped my ass again, making me moan out. “start moving, baby”

i did as he said, pushing my hips back into his. i looked back, watching his dick disappear into me.

the sight of our pleasure covering his cock while i fucked myself on it turned me on even more, fueling me to move faster.

i rolled my hips into his, push them against him quickly.

“fuckkkk yes, that feels so good baby” he groaned as his eyes rolled back.

“yeah? you like it when i use you like this?” i asked as i felt another orgasm coming on.

before i knew it, i felt chris’s hot cum inside of me again.

the feeling of him dripping down my thighs sent me tumbling over the edge.

his thrusts slowed down slightly as he opted for deep, hard thrusts.

“holy s-shit, chris” i cried out as my back arched.

“so fucking good, how are you real?” he mumbled.

he started to get impatient and sped up his thrusts again.

my mouth hung open and all i could do was sob at this point.

i reached behind me, trying to get him to stop somehow.

he brought my arm back to the sink, placing his hands on top of mine.

“something you wanted to say?” he asked. i shook my head in response.

“no? then be a good girl and take it”

he moved his hands, still holding mine, and guiding them to my boobs.

“ you’re doing so good, baby. you almost there ?”

too tired to speak, i nodded my head in response.

“yeah? come with me, baby. let it all out” he whispered into my ear.

this time, my juices shot out of me, making him pull out and rub himself against my ass.

he came with a loud groan of my name, spilling his seed onto my lower back.

i stood up straight after a little while, stretching my limbs out.

i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, taking in my sweat-covered face.

fuck. so much for that twist-out.

“so, you ready to go?” he asked.

i stood there, looking at him crazily.

“what?” he asked, obviously confused.

——————

ahhh hope you like this 🙈

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Sorry for breaking your window to get in here but since where already on the topic of B & E what about Clarisse x Daughter of Hermes where the Hermes Cabin and the boys from the Ares cabin started a prank war with each other and Clarisse is PISSED because she gets getting caught in the crossfire and when reader breaks into the Ares cabin to set up a prank but she accidentally wakes up Clarisse.

- it’s all fun and games -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hermes! Reader

An - i feel like I don’t use AN’s properly but who cares also my ao3 series is almost finished also I cuss way to fucking much I mean damn 😭😭 irl I say fuck every 3 words dude I have a problem

An Pt 2 - I Hope thus is good I’m going through a rough writers block rn

For the entire summer. The entire fucking summer clarisse has been dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

Her brothers had for some reason started a season long war with the Hermes cabin. Probably because over some girl which she honestly found pathetic, even though deep down she would do worse if someone tried shit with you.

So here, clarisse currently found herself looking in shock with her cabin floor covered in Greek fire ash marks. Annoyed she mentally came up with a punishment for later. Deep in thought she hadn’t realized you were behind her for cabin check up.

You let out a soft breath before gently hitting the open door. Clarisse turned around, her face going from anger to flustered.

“Hey” she stumbled slightly on her words.

You shyly waved. “Cabin check?” There was a moment of silence, just enough for you to notice the mess behind her. “I can always lie— I know how my brothers get” you tried to offer a better solution than failing the check.

Acting like she was Un-phased she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Shouldn’t have to cover for them ”

“Well I’m just trying to help” You chuckled, the gap between you closing quickly.

As much as clasisse complained about the summer there was still one good part, you. Flirting at every bonfire turned into spending free time together which eventually lead to you both kissing at the end of last night. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yeah” she shrugged. It was cute how she tried to play off her embarrassment. Reaching out you fixed clarisses necklace, Making it symmetrical on her body. With a sarcastic sigh you looked back at the Greek fire stains before looking back up at her. “I’ll come back in an hour that work for you?”

“Yeah id really appreciate it” she smiled softly.

You wished you were an Aphrodite girl, able to leave a room with beauty and want. Instead you left almost to quickly, embarrassment fueling your steps. By the time you reached the last step your face felt hot, and your body felt fuzzy. She was going to be the death of you.

———

“I’m not doing that” you cocked an eyebrow up as your brothers proposed another prank.

“Just this once” Connor practically begged. Walking past Chris smacked him upside his head, the prank they were trying to get you to do? Sneak into the ares cabin and cover it in silly string. Their reasoning for having you do it was because clarisse wouldn’t kill you.

“If she doesn’t want to do it she doesn’t have to” Chris sighed, taking a seat on his bunk.

Your brothers however couldn’t handle that as an appropriate response. Whispering to each other you saw their faces turn into a devilish grin. “Fine” they started off with false security “You don’t have to do it, but we can always tell Chiron about the secret green plant business you help the Dionysius and Demeter cabin run”

Giving them an agitated look you stood up and snatched the silly string out of their hand. “Fuck you” they always found a reason to black mail you. The trick was starting to get old.

It wasn’t until 12am that you snuck into the ares cabin. Coming in through the window you were a little worried about what a cabin full of war kids would do if someone came in. Looking back one more time to see your brothers giving you a thumbs up from afar.

Calming your nerves you took the first step inside. Silently spraying the string the stale chemical smell hit you like a truck. A few kids tossed and turned, the fear of waking one up made you work faster.

Shoving another empty can into your bag you pulled out the last one. The only section left was clarisses. The section you had been dreading of doing. Silently walking over you caught a glimpse of her drooling in her sleep. You wished your had a camera to capture the rare moment. She was beautiful, even in her most vulnerable state. Snapping out of your thoughts you remembered you had a job to do.

Stepping back with a heavy heart your foot sunk into a loose board, a loud creaking sound filling the room. It was less than a second before you felt a harsh hit to your face and your body on the floor.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings with ringing in your ears. The lights came on and a pair of strong hands grabbed the side of your arms. A few kids were shouting and in the background you could almost make out the front door opening.

Coming back you felt blood trail down your face from your nose and clarisse looking guilty at you. Her hands squeezing your arms as she couldn’t say anything. You groaned and held your head back exhausted.

Being moved to a bed you were barley able to understand what was happening in-front of you. In the background both cabins were yelling at one another, it felt like a fight might break out. Clarisse was crouched infront of you trying to asses your now broken nose. You could tell she was starting to loose her patience.

At first you didn’t hear anything. The ringing went away however when clarisse slammed her spear on the ground commanding the attention to her.

“ENOUGH! Everybody who is not my sibling get out now! And to everyone else I want a first aid kit some ice, nectar, ambrosia, and i want this cabin cleaned now!” A strong silence filled the room before the ares kids got to work. If looks could kill the Hermes cabin would had dropped dead. “Whatever you all have going on ends now understand! Im sick and tired of dealing with all of your bullshit and Luke you need to get a better control over your siblings!”

They nodded. Not even Luke wanted to speak, he just whistled his sibling’s out. In less than five minutes you watched as the cabin almost cleaned itself. In less than five minutes clarisse had began gently trying to bandage the broken bone, trying to take some pain away.

Helping feed a bite of ambrosia you felt your nose begin to mend on its own. Though it would still need a week to heal. Letting out a sigh of relief you finally looked up at her, up at Clarisse who was acting like a coward.

“It’s not your fault” you tried.

“I broke your nose, seems like my fault”

“And you thought I was an intruder it’s not the end of the world” you sighed grabbing her hand. It didn’t matter who was at fault it just came down to how it was handled.

She looked like she wanted to speak but she just couldn’t make the words. “If you really want to make it up to me you can always ask me out on a date” Looking up through your lashes you swore you saw her cheeks turn red.

“Y-yeah I can do that” trying to play it off but it was too late. You giggled slightly, leaning forward to close the gap and softly kiss her. Feel her rough lips against yours.

Her hands found home on your torso, traveling up and down while pulling you closer in an attempt to deepen it. Breaking away only for a moment clarisse looked over at her siblings who some stopped cleaning.

Barking orders at them to continue she looked back with a sarcastic expression making you laugh.

Laying down beside her on the small bed you looked deep into her eyes, not wanting to say a word. It felt like every emotion you two had felt for one another was known.

Giving her another soft kiss you tucked your head away into her neck. It didn’t take long to fall asleep and shockingly for the ares cabin, when the lights were out and everyone was asleep there was a peaceful quiet. One that comforted and lulled a person into a deep sleep.

[saintmuses]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚

𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 = ✞ | 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 = ♤ | 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 = ☾

❝𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩❞ (✞)

It was 1978, she was living her life on stages. She had her whole future planned out which was playing in front of crowds until she dropped dead. Well that was the plan until the night she met Chris.

❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨❞ (✞)

[hysteria-things]

GHOST PT 2 PLS

GHOST (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt feels heartbroken for you, and using the estes method helps him connect with the afterlife to learn your story.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: ANGST, swearing, crying, mentions death (strangulation), lots of dialogue

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 494

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wanted this to have a short and sweet/sad ending🥲

it’s been about an hour or two, but matt still can’t fathom what he saw. let alone that he had sex with a ghost.

sam and colby talk to the camera, nick sandwiches between them leaving chris and matt in the back.

chris nudges his brother’s arm. “are you doing alright? you’ve been quiet.”

he puts on his best fake smile. “yeah. this hotel is just scary as fuck.”

chris laughs, nodding his head before yapping on and on about whatever.

matt tunes him out, feeling sad. despite being a literal ghost, he wanted to stay with you forever.

he misses you.

mirrors decorate the walls, the room is dark except for the lights that sam and colby set up on the floor. there’s a spirit box in the middle, and static comes from the speakers.

the five boys stand in the middle, taking turns to say stuff but having no luck. “i think you should only speak, matt.” colby explains. “they seem to really like you.”

clearing his throat, he starts speaking. “who’s in here with us right now?

some statics later, they finally get something. “y/n.”

there’s a twinkle in matt’s eye when he hears that name. “hi, y/n.” he says softly, sitting down to get comfortable next to the device. “do you feel safe with all of us in here?”

“you.”

“you?” sam repeats. “like… she’s safe with you?” he points to matt.

“i guess so.” he nods. “what happened to you at this hotel?”

“strangled.”

there’s some commentary getting thrown around the room with each question, but matt is focused on hearing only your voice.

“can you tell me who did that to you?” he says, keeping his tone content.

“brother.”

he can’t help but feel sorry for you. you were so young and had so much to live for, but now you’re known as one of the ninety ghosts that roam this hotel.

nose sniffling, his eyes start to water. he catches on and wipes the tears away. “are you free in this hotel?”

“no.”

before he can ask another question, another word picks up. “out.”

“whoa.” sam says. “it’s never done that—”

“peace.”

colby snaps his fingers repeatedly. “she’s doing rapid fire right now.”

after the boys become silent, and he continues with a shaky inhale. “you feel stuck in here; is that what you’re saying.”

“yes.”

without being able to catch it this time, a tear trickles down his cheek. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“are you crying?” nick asks, everybody else staring down at him.

“don’t cry.”

he ignores the others, but he doesn’t ignore you. he chuckles instead, wiping the waterworks.

“i’m fine.”

“take a break, man.” colby says, tapping him on the shoulder to help him off the ground.

with that, they contact different spirits after you. matt has to come to terms that he’ll never be able to see you again. he wants you to find your peace. he hopes you will be free.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms

[alyrasturnz]

PLEASE feed the chris girls bae!!! can u also do a fwb!chris x reader smut based off the song casual by chappel roan? also make it super angsty but with a happy ending thank you

CASUAL {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — y/n and chris had agreed upon no attachment and no feelings, yet with each passing second, y/n found their emotions for chris deepening. the initial boundaries they set began to blur, as y/n's heart betrayed their intentions, growing more entwined with every shared moment and lingering touch. the simplicity of their arrangement gave way to a complex web of burgeoning affection, making it increasingly difficult to adhere to their original pact.

— smut && angst (happy ending)

warnings :: smut , oral (fem receiving) , degradation , semi-public

a/n ,, this made me feel so ICKY 😭 i hate writing smut

chris’ tongue danced within you, each movement a symphony of sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

 

you endeavored to stifle the sighs that threatened to escape, your breath hitching and your heart racing as the intensity of the moment enveloped you. 

the world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the exquisite connection between you and chris, a testament to the unspoken desires that bound you together.

once more, you found yourself ensconced in the passenger seat, chris' head nestled comfortably in between your thighs, the intimacy of the moment a stark contrast to the mundanity of a typical wednesday night. 

the quiet hum of the car seemed to echo the unspoken bond between you, a silent testament to the countless evenings spent in this familiar embrace.

“chris,” you whined, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair, becoming entangled in its softness. 

as he brought his free hand up to your bare waist, his touch was a gentle caress, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within. the intimacy of the moment was palpable, each movement a silent conversation between your bodies. 

his fingers traced delicate patterns on your clit, each stroke a whisper of unspoken desires. 

the warmth of his breath mingled with the cool night air, creating a heady mix that left you breathless. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared longing and tenderness.

“i know, baby,” he whispers, his breath a warm caress against your sensitive clit, sending shivers down your spine. 

his words hang in the air like a tender promise, before he closes the distance between you, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore the depths of your pussy once more. 

the sensation is electrifying, a dance of passion that leaves you yearning for more, as the world outside dissolves into the background, leaving only the fervent connection that binds you together.

your thighs wrapped around chris’ head, a vice of desire, while your fingers remained entangled in his hair, guiding him deeper into the core of your being. 

each movement was a silent plea, a testament to the fervent connection that pulsed between you, as you pushed him further into the depths of your longing.

“i'm so close,” you whine, soft moans escaping your lips like delicate whispers in the night, as chris inserts two fingers inside you. the sensation is a tantalizing blend of pleasure and anticipation, each movement drawing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

you let out a chain of moans, his name interwoven with them like a desperate incantation, as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. the intensity builds, each cry a testament to the overwhelming sensation coursing through you, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

“chris— fuck! oh my god, please, don't stop!” you practically scream, your voice a symphony of desperation and desire, as your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably. 

each word is a fervent plea, a testament to the overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you.

“come on, you can do it, baby. give it to me.” he whispers, his voice a velvety caress, before shoving in an extra finger. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body jolting upward as waves of intense sensation ripple through you.

you whine as you feel the knot in your stomach snap, sending a torrent of your juices flooding through chris’ mouth. 

the intensity of your release is both overwhelming and liberating, a cascade of pleasure that leaves you breathless and trembling. 

his tongue continues to dance, savoring every drop, while your body quivers uncontrollably, each wave of ecstasy crashing over you like a relentless tide. 

the room seems to blur around you, your senses consumed by the intoxicating blend of sensation and euphoria.

chris attempts to extricate himself from his position, but his head collides sharply with the roof of the car. "ow," he winces, a grimace spreading across his features. "it's cramped as fuck here."

a soft giggle escapes your lips as your hand gently rises to his cheek, caressing it tenderly. "yeah, we should head back to your place," you murmur, your voice laced with a hint of playful suggestion.

you carefully slide your skirt back on, the fabric whispering against your skin, before gracefully crawling over to the driver's seat. reaching out, you turn the air conditioning on full blast, feeling the cool air swiftly dispel the lingering heat.

you disengage the car from park and ease into motion, the hum of the engine filling the silence. suddenly, chris's hand reaches out, resting firmly on your thigh. this familiar gesture, fraught with unspoken tension, invariably sets off a chain of events that seldom conclude favorably.

"chris," you breathe out in a soft sigh as his fingers continue their intricate dance around your core. with each delicate movement, the heat within you intensifies, growing ever more fervent. 

"please," you plead, your voice a whisper of desperation. your grip on the steering wheel tightens, the knuckles blanching to a stark white as tension coils within you. 

"might wanna speed up, ma," he teases, a playful edge to his voice. his fingers accelerate, sketching elaborate shapes that, under different circumstances, you might have comprehended. but now, ensnared in a fog of mounting desire, their significance slips through your grasp.

as your speed increased, your whines grew in intensity, each one louder than the last, while his touch became progressively harsher, matching the escalating tempo of your movements.

you snapped your head to look at him, and there it was—the same infuriatingly smug smirk that adorned his face with such maddening consistency. 

it was the smirk that ignited a tempest within you, a storm of conflicting emotions. 

on one hand, it made you want to rip him apart, to unleash the fury that simmered just beneath the surface. on the other hand, it stirred a longing deep within you, a desire to close the distance and press your lips against his, to lose yourself in the warmth of his beautiful, infuriating face. 

the duality of your emotions was overwhelming, a constant battle between the urge to destroy and the yearning to embrace.

"eyes on the road, ma," he murmurs, his voice a blend of gentle admonishment and quiet command. 

his gaze, steady and unwavering, shifts to the road ahead, and instinctively, yours follow suit, mirroring his focus. the moment is charged with a silent understanding, a shared vigilance that binds you both to the path before you.

without warning, he thrusts a finger inside you, eliciting an involuntary jolt from your body. the sudden intrusion sends a shockwave through your senses, a blend of surprise and intensity that leaves you momentarily breathless.

chris withdraws his finger, and with that single motion, the ecstasy that once coursed through you vanishes, dissipating like mist in the morning sun. the sensation that had enveloped you in bliss is replaced by a hollow absence, a stark contrast that leaves you yearning for the return of that fleeting pleasure.

"chris!" you exclaim, disappointment flickering across your features, your voice a blend of longing and frustration. your core burns with an intense heat, drenched in the aftermath of unfulfilled desire, as the emotional tempest within you rages on.

"what?" chris inquired with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a knowing glint. you simply shook your head, a silent gesture laden with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

"nothing," you mutter, the words barely escaping your lips as you steadfastly refuse to swallow your pride. the defiance in your voice is a testament to the storm of emotions churning within you.

chris leans closer, his presence palpable yet just out of reach, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. "i know you want it," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur that sends shivers down your spine, teasing the boundaries of your resolve.

your hands grip the steering wheel with a fierce intensity, your nails biting into the supple leather as the engine roars like a caged beast unleashed. the vibrations of raw power resonate through the vehicle, echoing the storm of emotions that churn within your chest, each thrum a testament to the wild energy at your command.

your upper teeth sink into your bottom lip, the pressure a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of anticipation as you swiftly maneuver into the driveway. the car comes to an abrupt halt, the gear shift snapping into park with a decisive click, mirroring the urgency that propels your every movement.

chris lets out a soft, velvety chuckle, the sound resonating in the air like a whispered promise. as he gracefully opens the passenger seat door, you, with equal swiftness, swing open the driver's door. 

propelled by an intense, unspoken urgency, you rush towards him, your movements fluid and driven. your arms encircle his neck, drawing him closer, and your lips meet his in a fervent union, a kiss that speaks volumes of hunger and passion, each moment a testament to the unrestrained desire that courses through both of you.

chris' hands find their way to your neck, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin, each touch a whisper of tenderness. his tongue engages in a fervent dance with yours, each movement a battle for dominance, a symphony of desire and power that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more.

chris pulls away, his once serene blue eyes now transformed into stormy seas of desire, pupils dilated and brimming with unspoken intensity. his hand glides to your wrist, the touch both commanding and electrifying, as he swiftly leads you into the depths of his home. each step resonates with the palpable urgency that courses through the air, a silent symphony of longing and anticipation.

you and chris traverse the dimly lit corridors of his house, the shadows dancing on the walls like silent specters. the soft glow of the ambient light casts a mysterious aura, each step you take together echoing with the promise of the uncharted moments that lie ahead.

chris swings the door open with a fervent urgency, his grip on your wrist tightening as he drags you inside his room. 

the air is thick with a desperate need, his movements fueled by an uncontainable desire as he pulls you into his world, the room becoming a sanctuary for the passion that ignites between you.

you and chris lock eyes, the air between you charged with pure, unfiltered desire. the intensity of your gaze speaks volumes, a silent conversation of longing, before your lips collide once more in a fervent, passionate embrace.

chris pulls away once more, his breath heavy with anticipation. his voice, a low and commanding whisper, cuts through the silence: "strip," he says, the single word laden with the weight of his desire and authority.

you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze unwavering as you deliberately, ever so slowly, begin to remove your top. each movement is a calculated act of retribution, a silent but potent revenge for the tantalizing torment he subjected you to in the car.

"you can be faster than that, i know you can," he says, his tone dripping with demand and impatience. the words slice through the air, a challenge wrapped in authority, urging you to hasten your movements.

a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, a silent declaration of defiance, as you ever so slowly begin to peel your skirt away. each deliberate movement is a tantalizing dance, a calculated tease that heightens the tension between you.

chris, his patience worn thin, strides towards you with resolute determination. in one swift motion, he pushes you onto the bed, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. his hands move with a primal urgency, tearing away the remaining fabric that clings to your body, leaving no barrier between you and his fervent desire.

"chris!" you scolded, your voice carrying a mix of admonishment and reluctant amusement. he merely chuckled in response, his laughter a deep, resonant sound. as his lips connected with your neck, a cascade of soft sighs escaped you, each one a testament to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and frustration that his touch elicited.

"i’ll buy you a new one," he whispers against your skin, his breath a warm caress that sends shivers down your spine. the hot air fans against your flesh, each word imbued with a promise that lingers tantalizingly in the charged space between you.

chris' fingers deftly trace a path to your core, their touch gentle yet insistent as they begin to draw soft, tantalizing circles. his lips, not content with mere proximity, descend to nibble at your skin, each bite a delicate blend of pleasure and anticipation that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

chris rises, and you can't help but let out a plaintive whine at the sudden, aching loss of his touch. the absence of his warmth leaves a void, a palpable longing that reverberates through your entire being.

"patience, baby," he tuts, shaking his head with a knowing smile. as he unbuckles his belt, the metallic clinking sounds resonate through the room, each one a tantalizing prelude that heightens your anticipation and sets your senses alight.

chris' pants fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric, revealing his length as he steps closer. each movement is deliberate, a symphony of anticipation that leaves you breathless and yearning.

he teases your folds, his tip gathering the slickness with each tantalizing glide. then, with a deliberate and measured motion, he begins to insert himself, the sensation drawing soft sighs from both of you, each breath a testament to the profound and intimate connection being forged in that moment.

"chris," you whimper, your voice trembling with a mix of longing and urgency. your hands seek refuge on his back, fingers curling and tugging at his skin, leaving a constellation of red marks in their wake, each one a vivid testament to the fervent passion that courses between you.

"you're so fucking tight,” he groans, his voice strained and laden with desperation. each thrust, a fervent plea, drives him deeper, his words punctuated by the rhythm of his movements, creating an intoxicating symphony of raw need and tender affection.

you let out a chain of loud moans and whines, your voice a cacophony of raw emotion. then, in a swift, almost instinctive motion, chris' hand flew to your mouth, muffling the sounds and intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

"shhhh," he shushed you, his voice a soft, commanding whisper. 

"you can keep quiet for me, right, baby?" he asked, his gaze piercing into yours. you nodded, releasing his hand from your mouth, the air thick with unspoken understanding. "good. we wouldn't want matt or nick finding out, would we?" he continued, his tone laced with a hint of danger, as you shook your head no, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

chris' thrusts grew increasingly erratic, each one more desperate than the last. in a bid to stifle your rising cries, you brought your wrist up to your mouth, biting down hard on it, the pressure a futile attempt to contain the torrent of sounds threatening to escape.

the knot in your stomach tightened, coiling with an almost unbearable intensity as you looked at chris desperately. "close..." you managed to croak out, your voice barely a whisper, laden with urgency and need.

"hold it. i know you can," he commanded, his thrusts growing faster, each one a testament to his relentless drive. “take it like the slut you are," he demanded, his voice a mix of authority and raw desire.

tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering like fragile crystals, as you struggled to stifle your cries, the effort almost unbearable.

"fuck... this pussy was made for me," chris murmured, his voice rough with possession, as his thrusts became erratic, each one a testament to his fervent claim.

chris looked at you, his pupils completely dilated, eyes darkened with an almost predatory intensity. "give it to me. cum on my dick, baby.” he demanded with a smirk, his thrusts quickening, each one more insistent than the last.

he didn't have to tell you twice. the knot in your stomach snapped, an overwhelming wave crashing through you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your legs violently shook, your body jolting upwards with an uncontrollable force.

chris soon reached his peak, his cum mingling with yours deep within, as his thrusts gradually slowed, each movement a lingering testament to the intensity of the moment.

chris soon then pulled out with a pop, the sound echoing through the room. he slid his pants back on with practiced ease before settling onto his bed, immediately engrossed in the luminous screen of his phone, the moment already fading into the background.

you rolled your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips as you rose to cleanse yourself. you walked into his bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the heat of the moment just passed. with a swift motion, you turned the shower on, the water cascading over you, washing away the remnants of your shared encounter, each droplet a whisper of the night's intensity.

you knew you were just casual, and it wasn't his duty to care for you, but you found yourself drifting towards him like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. each encounter left you yearning for more, despite the knowledge that your connection was fleeting and ephemeral.

you then stepped out of the shower, the steam lingering in the air as you reached for chris' towel, its softness enveloping you as you dried yourself. you walked back into his room, the cool air meeting your skin. you opened his drawer, your fingers grazing the fabric within, retrieving a sweater and a pair of boxers. you paused, the moment stretching as thoughts swirled in your mind.

your favorite bra.

you slam his drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as aggravation floods through your veins. chris' head lifts up, his eyes meeting yours, a silent inquiry hanging in the charged air.

"you okay?" chris furrowed his eyebrows, concern etching lines across his forehead as he searched your face for answers, the weight of the moment pressing down upon both of you.

"i'm fine," you grit through your teeth, the words barely escaping your lips as you stride towards his bathroom, the tension in your movements palpable. you slam the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the space like a final, resolute punctuation.

chris mentally groaned, the exasperation evident in his eyes as he followed behind you. he knocked on the door, the sound a hesitant yet insistent plea for understanding.

"do you want to talk about it?" chris mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, laden with a mixture of concern and uncertainty, each word a gentle probe into the depths of your silence.

"no," you say bluntly, the curt response slicing through the air as you methodically put on your clothes. chris rolls his eyes, a silent gesture of exasperation that speaks volumes.

"this isn't working, chris," you finally snap, the frustration bubbling over as you swing the bathroom door open with a force that makes it rattle on its hinges. "my favorite bra lives in your dresser, chris! and your mom invites me to your family vacations! how, in any conceivable world, is any of that casual?"

chris sighs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of weary resignation. "we agreed to keep things simple," he mutters, his eyes darting away from yours, unable to hold your gaze.

"simple?" you scoff, the word tasting bitter on your tongue like unripe fruit. "there's nothing remotely simple about this, chris. i yearn for more, i need more."

he shakes his head, the lines of his face hardening into a mask of resolve. "i can't give you that," he says, his voice devoid of warmth. "it's not what i want."

you feel a surge of anger, your voice rising like a storm. "so what am i to you, then? a fleeting distraction? just someone to keep your bed warm on cold nights?"

"it's not like that," he says, his tone laced with defensiveness. "i do care about you, but i'm not prepared to venture into something more profound or serious."

"care about me?" you echo, incredulity seeping into your voice. "if you truly cared, you'd desire to be with me, genuinely be with me, not merely when it suits your convenience."

chris takes a deep breath, his frustration palpable. "i never promised you anything beyond this," he states, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "you knew what this was from the very beginning."

"maybe i did," you admit, your voice trembling. "but feelings change, chris. people change. i thought maybe you felt the same way."

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice softening. "i can't be what you want me to be."

the silence that follows is heavy, laden with unspoken words and shattered hopes. the room feels colder, the distance between you growing with every passing second.

"fine," you say softly, storming out of his room, leaving him alone with his tumultuous thoughts. he closes his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath as a maelstrom of emotions and reflections whirl through his mind.

»--•--«

on the following morning, you find yourself once more at his threshold, the burden of unresolved matters pressing upon your very soul. With a delicate rap upon the door, he appears, his gaze a tumultuous sea of astonishment and expectancy. “i came to get my bra,” you utter, your voice a calm façade, yet tinged with an undercurrent of latent tension.

he steps aside, his silent invitation laden with the weight of unsaid words and emotions that hover like ghosts between you. as you make your way towards his room, he trails behind, the air dense with the echoes of yesterday's confrontation, each step amplifying the palpable tension that lingers in the space between you.

"i didn't expect for you to come back so quickly," he confesses, his voice scarcely rising above a whisper, each word a fragile thread in the tapestry of the moment.

"i don’t plan on staying,” you respond, your tone cool and detached, like a distant winter breeze. “just here to get my things and go.”

he watches as you move around the room, gathering your belongings with a determined efficiency, each motion a testament to your resolve. "i've been doing some thinking," he murmurs, his voice hesitant yet imbued with sincerity. "and i realized... i actually like you. more than i thought."

you pause, turning to face him, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that speaks volumes. "sometimes, intentions aren't enough," you say softly, the weight of your words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. "sometimes, actions speak louder."

he takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, the space between you shrinking with each deliberate step. "i know," he says, his voice imbued with a quiet determination that resonates in the stillness. "that's why i want to show you. give me a chance to prove it."

you look into his eyes, seeing the genuine emotion that lies within them. your heart softens, the walls you've meticulously built around it beginning to crumble. "okay," you say, a small smile forming on your lips, a fragile yet hopeful gesture. "let's see where this goes."

he smiles back, relief and happiness evident in his expression, a radiant glow that lights up his features. "thank you," he whispers, his voice a tender caress, as he pulls you into a gentle embrace.

he cups your face with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheeks before his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels both urgent and timeless. though it has been only a day, a mere collection of fleeting hours, the sensation is as if centuries have passed, each moment apart stretching into an eternity, making this connection all the more profound and poignant.

[impala-dreamer]

Eternal Charm

A Short Story

~Waking up next to your lover has never looked so hot.~

Chris Evans x f!Reader

872 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Hot stuff. That damned necklace.

A/N: For my lovely woman @because-imma-lady-assface <3 | Originally published to Patreon October 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Soft bed; hard body.

Silken kisses; rough cheeks.

He held himself up, strong arms caging you in like a prisoner beneath him. Every thrust between your legs made your eyes roll; every grunt against your flesh sent a fresh wave of arousal through your system. He was lost in a haze of lust; blue eyes glazed and bright in the daylight peeking through the hotel room curtains. He was glistening with sweat, nearly panting as he worked your body.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum…” You held your breath as the words flowed free; all shyness gone, every thought leaking out of your mouth filter free. “God, you fuck me so good, Chris. Fuck!”

He grinned, drew his tongue across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and begging for your teeth.

Reaching up to grab the back of his neck, you answered the call with a kiss, a bite, a suckle on his plump lips. His eyes fluttered shut, a growl shook his chest. You could feel his pulse racing, drumming hard inside. The heat pushing off of him was a fever you never wanted to cure, a fire you never wanted to quell.

“Damn it.” He cursed under his breath and then pulled away, sitting up on his knees, towering shadow falling over your nakedness.

“Don’t leave me,” you pouted, cunt clamping down on him so hard you were amazed he could stand it.

He smirked. Shot a sly look as he reached back to grab your feet. “Never.”

One big hand held both your ankles tight, resting them on his left shoulder. The new angle stopped your breath and he watched with hungry awe as your jaw dropped and your muscles tensed.

Slowly, he moved again, teasing your swollen pussy with maddening circles.

“Jesus, fuck!” Your cry echoed, bouncing off the white walls, threatening to bust through and alert the other guests.

You could not care any less.

“Fuck, there you go,” he urged, finally sinking back in. His cock was thick and throbbing, stretching you out even more. Deeper than before, it felt as if he was working to split you open and the pressure was incredible. “Gonna cum all over me? Soak these sheets?”

A nod was all you could manage. A tip of your chin and a wordless whimper.

“That’s my girl.” A hard thrust. A drop of sweat settling into the dip of his throat. “The maid’s gotta earn her tip.”

He winked and your heart stopped.

There was no earthly reason for him to flirt while his cock was buried so deep in you, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the eternal charm, now or ever.

His back arched as he rolled into you, setting a new rhythm that wouldn’t let you catch your breath.

The pressure broke around him and you bit your lip hard, holding in a scream as your orgasm struck. Frozen in place, you gripped his trim hips, digging your nails deep into the bone.

“So good-”

His voice trickled down like honey coating the back of a spoon and you lapped it up, savoring the sweet, dark taste.

The pleasure peaked and your thighs shook in his grasp.

“Please…” You shoved at his hips, desperate for him to back away and let you breathe just for a second.

He would have none of that.

“Not done yet, babygirl.”

A hint of relief as he dropped your legs, allowing you to resettle on the crisp sheets.

A rush of air as he fell down over you.

The pull of his kiss; the sharp sting of his teeth on your throat.

Chris closed the space between your bodies, sinking down as if he meant to smother you.

The sunlight was kind, giving you the best view in the world. Bright blue eyes covered by thick, fanning lashes. The creamy vanilla of his skin, the warm pink of his lips; the dark ink on his chest, the gold necklace glinting in the light.

The precious medallion dangled down from his neck, rocking harshly into your face with each thrust. Slinking down closer, Chris lay the saint down lovingly on your chest and then licked it up into his mouth. He bit down on the chain and held it there as his eyes locked on yours.

The focus was intense, the building pleasure even more so.

Jaw clamped shut, he groaned heavily and you scratched your nails down his back, turning up the volume on his moan.

A jerk of his hips sent you reeling, and your head slammed back into the mattress. Your body arched up into him and Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot; the chain cool.

Another quick jab and his body stiffened. You turned your head and licked at his ear, making his bones shudder.

He rolled away with a kiss, out of breath and spent.

The sheet below was wet and you covered him instead with your warm arms, nuzzling into him and sighing happily.

“That was nice,” you said, basking in the glow.

He dropped his hand to the soft space between your shoulders and hummed. “Sure fucking was…”

Hard chest; soft touch.

Gentle whispers; sleepy eyes.

“Best morning ever.”

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[xetlynn]

Until Dawn- By Your Side: Chapter Three, Arguments

(Josh Washington X Reader)

[two] [three] [four]

Ashley and Sam talk while I hold myself shivering. “WOOOoooOOoooooOOOO!” We hear from the other side of the door and Sam immediately goes up to the window. “Hi Chris, very funny.” She yells.

“How’d you know it was me?” He furrows his brows, showing his face. “Shouldn’t you be like, getting the lock open or something?” She ignores his question. “On it.” He makes a straight face and walks away. I sigh, throwing my head back.

I glance over to Ashley who’s crossing her arms over her chest. I grab onto her and hug her. Keeping us both warm. “Thanks, [Name].” She whispers, I hum in response, leaning my head on her shoulder. “He needs to hurry up.” I mutter, annoyed.

“Can I join you guys?” Sam asks, I open my arm and we all huddle together for the warmth. “Thank you.” She huffs up.

I hear Chris’s footsteps get closer and we let each other go. “We’re freezing our buns off out here!” Ashley complains and I chuckle remembering the conversation the boys were having earlier. Sam and I go up to the door and watching Chris put the fire on the handle of the door. He glances up at us when he stops and flings the door open. Hurting himself in the process.

“Thank you, thank you, thank, I‘ll be here all week-“ He bows but as he does a badger or some sort of animal runs out of the doorway making him squeal. Us three laugh at his reaction. “Crap that thing freaked me out.” He expresses, looking down at the ground.

“what was it? Are you okay?” Ashley attempts to stop laughing. “It was like a bear or a tiger or something.” He huffs. “Aw it was just a cute little baby wolverine!” Sam does a little pout.

“Baby?” Chris rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be a big boy soon.” Josh comes up behind us, slinging his arm over my shoulder, wearing a smirk on his lips.

We all get inside, Josh letting me go to lead the way fully in. “Home sweet home.” He says.

“Sweet is not the word I’d use.” Matt mumbles under his breath.

“I think it’s nice, just needs a little cleaned up.” I get on my tip toes and kiss my boyfriend’s cheek.

“Oh my gosh it’s so good to be inside. Even if it’s still kinda freezing in here.” Ashley happily announces. “I’ll get a fire going.” Josh squeezes my forearm before walking over to the fire place.

“This place barely looks any different.” Matt comments. “Yeah, nobody’s been up here.” Josh tells them.

“Even with all the police coming in and out?” Ashley tilts her head and I sigh at the question. “Not a lot of action up here lately.” Chris says for his best friend. “Nope.” Josh adds. I watch over him as he gets the fire started.

“What’s up party people!” Mike throws his hands in the air excitedly. “Heeey!” Jessica grins. “Hey!” Josh smiles. “Make yourself at home bro.” Josh tells Mike, I only give him a short wave. I’ve never really been his friend. We have a mutual silent agreement where we don’t really speak to one another unless necessary. “Will do.” Mike pretends to take a hat off.

“Yeah, come on in.” Matt says with some sort of disdain laced in his voice. “Take a load off. Have whatever you want.” He stands up. “You just take whatever you want anyways, right?” He gets closer to Mike and I take a deep breath knowing some sort of argument is about to happen. I lean on the wall of the fireplace beside my boyfriend. “Woah, easy there cowboy.” Mike steps back.

“what the hell were you doing with Em out on the trail, huh?” Matt questions him. “What?” Mike furrows his brows. “I saw you and Em. Through the telescope.” Matt explains where he got his information. “Before? We just ran into each other. It’d been a while so we hugged and I said hello. Is that against the law?” Mike asks, I don’t think he’s completely lying but Matt supposedly does with his next sentence. “Erm. Right. Right I’m sure it’s all it was.” Matt sarcastically says.

“You know what? You can think whatever you want. It’s a free country.” Mike tells him. “Watch yourself, Mike.” Matt warns before sitting back down on the couch. Mike goes and sits with my little sister. I subtly glare over at them before looking down at Josh.

“Oh. My god. That is so gross.” Emily’s voice pierces the room. “Are you trying to swallow his face whole?” She asks my sister and I get up from the wall. “Em…” Matt steps in. “Seriously can she be any more obvious?” Emily looks at everyone in the room. “No one wants in on your territory, honey.” Emily tells Jessica.

“Excuse me, did you say something?” Jess stands up.

“Oh did you not hear me? Was your sluttiness too loud?” Emily comes back at her and I shake my head. “Sounds like someone’s bitter she didn’t make the cut.” Jess smiles to her boyfriend who seems like he’s enjoying the show. “Yeah. It’s all a big cattle call with that dreamboat. Congrats, you’re top cow.” Emily congratulates her. “Cuts real deep calling Miss Homecoming a cow.” My sister says.

“Hey, let’s calm it down, both of you.” I point to them. “You’re making everyone uncomfortable, Jess.” Matt adds in. “Jealous much?” Jess asks him. I close my eyes trying to restrain myself from yelling at them. Somehow Josh doesn’t even care as he still works on the fire. “Emily too frigid for you, too?”

“Hey, that’s, that’s uncalled- look-“ Matt starts. “Whatever. I don’t give a crap what you think.” Jessica tells them.

“At least I can think. 4.0 bitch, honor roll.” Emily says and I press my lips together. “Suck on that when you’re trying to sleep your way into a job.” I get closer to Emily and wave her to stop.

“Knock it off, please.” I whisper, looking over to my boyfriend who just wanted a fun trip. “Who needs grades when you’ve got all the natural advantages you can handle.” Jessica says and I wince at the horrible come back. “Oh please.”

“You couldn’t buy a moldy loaf of bread with your skanky ass.” Jess snaps at Em. “Are you serious? Do you think that’s insulting?” Emily laughs. “That bitch is on crack or something.” Jess looks to her boyfriend.

“Jessica, you need to shut your mouth, okay?” Matt tells my sister. “Matt, zip it.” I groan, planting my face in my hands.

“no, you’re the one who needs to keep your nose out of other people’s business.” Jessica points a finger at him.

“I’m about to get right up in your business you bitch.” Emily steps closer and this is where I jump in. “Are we about to get real? Cause I am down to get real.” Jessica gets in Em’s face.

“Alright, enough you two. What the fuck?” I push them both back. “Are you serious? This is not why we came here.” I tell them and Josh is standing behind me. “This is not helping. It’s not what I wanted.” He says to them and they look down.

“If we can’t get along for ten minutes then maybe we need a little bit of a break, right?” Josh says and I notice the girls glaring at one another again and I shove both of them. “Knock it the fuck off, seriously.” I whisper.

“Mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin. The one I told you about.” Josh offers to him and my sister. I snap my head over at him with wide eyes. “Yeah… yeah, alright.” Mike stands up, reaching out for Jessica but I step in between them. “No. No, just for you to screw my little sister like the asshole you are?” I furrow my eyebrows. “Hey, calm down. I’m not going to do that.” He scoffs.

Jessica hits my arm. “It’s not your place to say no.” She tells me. “I’m just looking out for you.” I argue, slapping her back. “I don’t need you to do that. I’m going where ever that whore isn’t.” She walks past me and joins Mike.

“You’re so stupid Jessica.” I huff out, super irritated. “What ever, [Name]. Stay out of my life then.” She tells me and I roll my eyes. “Would love to.” I mumble, crossing my arms as I watch Mike and her walk out of the room. “It’s right up the trail.” Josh directs Mike and I give him a look. A very angered expression. Matt lets out a large sigh. Doing a mind blowing noise. “Glad that’s over.” He says.

“Yeah.” Josh gets back down to start the fire. “So Josh… uh, should we get this fire going?” Matt offers a helping hand.

“Where’s my bag?” Emily asks suddenly. “Huh?” Matt looks back to his girlfriend. “My bag! The, the little bag with the pink pattern. The one I got on Rodeo.” Emily questions. “Matt are you listening?”

“Oh my god, don’t you remember? Next to the Italian shoe place where I got the stilettos and you knocked over the rack while you were drooling all over that girl at the counter?” She reminds him. “well, I mean, she was asking about my letter jacket-“

“Right. Because she gave a shit about your designer letter jacket.” Emily rolls her eyes, I just plop down on the couch. Over the arguing that Emily always seems to bring. “Why do you hate my jacket?” Matt steps closer to her. “Matt I need my bag!” She says.

“oh my god Em, maybe you just forgot it.”

“Do you seriously think I’d forget my bag?” Emily questions him, raising a brow. I look over to the stairs to see Ash, Sam, and Chris there awkwardly as we all listen to this. “Well, I-“ “Do you?” She cuts him off. “Guess not.” He falters. “You must have left it down by the cable car station.” She says and he groans. “C’mon hun. We’ll be back soon.”

“And then we can get warm?” He asks and I know what he means by that. Every guy here is a pervert. “We can get very warm.” Emily responds, sway her body. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.” He motions to the front door and they leave.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a bath.” Sam stands up, heading up the stairs.

Josh stands up, suddenly remembering to give Mike the keys and even though I’m upset with him. I get up to follow. His hand finding my own. “You’re mad at me.” He states quietly. I don’t look at him, only shrugging. “I’ll make it up to you.” He tells me.

“We’ll see.” I let go of his hand and open the door. “Here’s the keys.” I take them from Josh and throw them over to Mike who catches. “Hey, sorry to kick you out like that.” Josh goes over to them and I fold my arms over my chest beside him. “No worries man.” Mike waves it off.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain yourselves.” Josh smirks, Jess hums in response and I feel like I’m gonna gag. “You have fun with the peanut-gallery.” Jess points into the house. Josh does a gun noise, pointing fingers to his head. He walks backwards but then stops. “Oh! Almost forgot. Gotta fire up the generator so you can see where you’re going.” Josh says. “It’s dark out there.” He goes back inside. I stand there for a minute looking between them. Shaking my head as I head back in as well.

“You ruined it, Josh.” I tell him, moving past him sort of angrily. “I figured.” He sighs, grabbing onto my arm before I could make it too far away from him.

“I just want everything to be perfect tonight.” He whispers, bringing me close to him. I know I’m not going to stay mad but what’s going on with Jess has been too much lately. She doesn’t even seem like my little sister anymore. “I… I understand.” I frown. I don’t understand but this trip is about Josh. Not me.

“I love you, [Name].” He says out of the blue staring into my eyes. I shyly look away. It took us a while to say the “L-word,” both of us having weird pasts with relationships and unfortunately what just happened to his family. So whenever he says it, it still feels like the first time. “I love you too.” I tell him, he pulls me into a kiss. “More than you’ll ever know.” He mumbles, holding me tight like I’m going to disappear. “Getting a little sentimental on me, Josh.” I pull away just the tiniest bit. His hands still around my waist.

“Only a little bit.” He chuckles, we head back to the living room.

“Sammy!” I shout. “What?” She asks back. “Need help getting the bath ready?” I tease her. “Um, well. I’m about to get into said bath.” She chuckles as my head peaks into the room. “Do you need any help with that?” I smirk. “Hardy har.” She smiles.

“I was just checking in with you.” I stop messing with her, watching as she turns the water on. I cross my arms, figuring the hot water isn’t on. “Do you know how to hook up the hot water in this big fancy lodge? Or at least your boyfriend hopefully does.” She turns to me and I shrug. “We’ll go get it figured out. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” I blow a kiss, jogging out of the room and back down stairs.

“Love-“

“You can do it, man. We believe in you.” I hear Chris quietly say to Josh so I immediately quiet down. “Yeah! Totally! Woohoo! Let’s go Jo-osh let’s go!” Ashley cheers.

“Okay well I am pretty sure that somewhere in this crazy place we used to have… a spirit board.” Josh randomly tells them, I make a face remembering when him and his sisters used to try to get me to play the board with them. “Those things are a joke, man. They don’t do shit.” Chris says.

“No way bro. We used to do it all the time. [Name], me and… well.”

“Hey, love. The hot water isn’t on. Sam is pissed!” I got over to him, slinging my arms dramatically over his shoulders. “Oh, we gotta fire up the boiler. It’s in the basement.” He tells me, I let him go. “You guys see if you can find the spirit board.” He points to Ash and Chris, Ashley gets excited. “Chris let’s go find it, it’ll be like a scavenger hunt!” She grins.

“Umm… okay… guess so.” Chris slowly goes after her. “Rad. You’re not gonna regret it.” Josh chuckles. “You ready?” He turns to me, sticking his hand out for me to take. I hum, taking it.

“You notice how I gave Chris and Ash a mission together?” Josh asks me as he takes a flashlight out of a drawer. “I did.” I smile.

“Yeah I was thinkin’ they could use some ‘alone time.’ Like we could use some alone time.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I laugh. “You thinking tonight’s the night?” I ask, messing with him.

No, we haven’t done “it” yet. With everything going on it just didn’t feel right. Along with the I love you thing. As much as a pervert Josh is, he’s actually a sweetheart. Sex also just isn’t on his mind like that. We both respect one another on that. “Really?” He tilts his head, I could tell he actually got excited by my question.

“If you want to… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” I take the flashlight from his hand and lead our way

Masterlist

Josh M.L.

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