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letorip · 6 months ago

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kiss with a fist

“you hit me once, i hit you back, you gave a kick, i gave a slap”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: tara needs a favour from perhaps the person she hates most on earth, but it just ends up drawing the both of you closer together.

warnings: explicit sexual content, fake dating 🤯, enemies to lovers, contrived plot because ha ha ha

word count: 4.8k

A/N: kinda had a lot of fun with this one. might do a part two, might just leave it as is, but let me know. inspired by kiss with a fist by florence + the machine (duh), lovely night from la la land, and various other inspirations.

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===+++===

The moment your front door opened on its hinges, Tara Carpenter was pushing past you and barging straight into your apartment, stepping right over the threshold and checking you with her shoulder. You barely had a chance to process it, before she had wandered down the hall and into your kitchen in a blur.

You rolled your eyes, knowing you were in for an annoying ass conversation and slamming the door shut. “What do you want?” You called into your own apartment loud enough for her to hear you in the other room.

“Don’t be a prick about it. This is the last place I wanted to go,” she shot back, and you sighed to yourself in your dark hallway before fixing your hair in the mirror and following her inside. There was only about an hour of her bullshit you could put up with and then you’d be saved by the bell anyhow.

“Whatever happened to ‘hello,’ Tara?” You said, crossing your arms and coming in to against the doorframe. She had jumped up onto your counter, legs swinging and fingers gripping the edge of the blue ice glass tiles. In her left hand she picked up the bottle of wine you had left out next to some glasses and began to read the label.

"Lecture me later,” she said, not looking up at you, You were about to reply, or more aptly, tell her to get the hell out of your apartment, but she put the bottle down and narrowed her eyes at you, clearly struggling to say what she was really there for.

“Look, (Y/n), I need your help.” Ah. There it was.

"Hah," you scoffed without hesitation. "No."

She threw up her hands. "I didn’t even say what I was asking for.”

“Still, no. I’m not helping you.”

“Could you just not be an asshat for five minutes and listen to me? Like, is that too hard for you? Are you medically incapable?" She shot back.

"You're sitting on my counter. I didn't bust into your house and start making demands but here you are in mine,” you said.

"I'm asking for a favour," said Tara, raising her voice. "Asking."

"Wasn't much of a question though, was it," you replied. Maybe being a dick back to her would make her leave. She had always been able to dish it but never able to take it, and you wanted to make her. "You said 'I need a favour.' There's no question in that."

"No, I actually said I need your help, now would you shut up and listen?"

You scowled. "Y'know, I'm not really in a helpful mood tonight."

"Like you have something better to do,” Tara scoffed, raising her eyebrows at you.

"And what if I do?"

"Then I'd say you're lying. What, you don’t want to help me because you’re watching your stupid show, or reading or something?” she challenged back, getting up off your counter and walking towards you. You straightened up, glaring down at her. She only came up to about your chest, but the short girl still did her best to seem intimidating.

With you she always frustratingly failed to even make the smallest dent, though that probably stemmed from the fact you could pick her up and punt her like a football if you wanted to. On the days she managed to really piss you off, the thought grew more enticing.

"For your information, I was supposed to have a date," you said. Tara blinked at this, looking down from your stupid face. You wore a thick black turtleneck and some pleated black pants that hung stylishly from your waist. The wine made sense now, and Tara felt like an idiot.

“What’d you pay them?” she clapped back, covering for the feeling of intense heat rising to her cheeks. This was humiliating. She had come begging for your help of all people- you, and now she had nothing to show for it but the stupid, smug look on your stupid, smug face.

“Ha ha,” you said, dryly. “Get out.”

“No.”

“Yes,” you insisted.

"So you're busy then…” she trailed off.

“Yes.”

“Nooo,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in frustration.

You weren't sure what it was, maybe the pout of her lip or the shining of her eyes, but you shut your own for a second and let out a sigh. "Why? What's the favour?"

Tara shook her head in a generally amusing display of defeat. "It's whatever. Have fun on your date," she said, heading for the door and trying to brush past you, but you reached your arm across the doorway, stopping her from going.

"No, what's-" you stopped, rolling your eyes upon realising you were about to help Tara Carpenter of all people- "What's the favour, Tara?" Her face instantly lit up with a bright, beaming smile, the exact opposite of what it had been before, and it suddenly occurred to you she had been playing you like a fiddle.

"Oh my god, you're actually helping for once! Did you finally wake up on the right side of the bed?”

"Don't push it," you muttered. "I don't even know what I'm agreeing to, yet."

"See, about that..." she trailed off.

"What.”

“We have to make Sam really, really mad.”

"What?”

"Yeah..."

You shook your head at her. "Never mind. I'm not helping you anymore."

"What!?"

"You're trying to get me murdered," you said. "I don't have a death wish."

Tara was fully frustrated now, dark eyes fiery and staring up at you in the candle lighting. “You don’t even know what it is you’re doing to make her mad yet!”

“Doesn’t matter, if it’s Sam I don’t want to do it.”

“It would be a big help!” Tara said, clasping her hands in front of her like a prayer. You narrowed your eyes at her, more upset her expression and clear desperation was actually working on you, and that you felt compelled to help this idiot with an undoubtedly idiotic plan.

“What are you trying to do?”

Tara jumped up and down in excitement, smiling widely in a way you had rarely seen her. “Okay! Okay, so Sam said last month that she didn’t want me going to parties and meeting people because she was worried they were murderers.”

“Uh huh,” you said.

“Buuut, she said I could go if I had someone always with me. Like, someone with me that she approved of. So I didn’t wander off to hook up or drink, which is, y’know, the actual fun ‘college party’ stuff.”

“Uh huh.”

“The thing is though, that if I had a ‘partner,’” she raised her fingers to put quotes around it, “then Sam wouldn’t need to worry about me doing that, because she’d assume I’d be with them, hanging out, or even if we did go to a party, it would be together. Buddy system style.”

You raised your eyebrows, realising where this was probably going. “Uh huh?”

“Which is where you’d come in. Sam wouldn’t trust just anybody, if I told her I was seeing someone. But she would trust someone from our group, who she knows for sure isn’t going to murder me. And you- as fucking annoying as you are- are exactly that.” She had a twinkle in her eyes when she explained it to you, and you realised Tara had probably been plotting this- or at least considering it- for a while now, the little devil.

“You really expect Sam to believe we can tolerate each other?” You asked, squeezing your arms tighter against your chest. “She knows how much I hate you, and only person I hate more is her.”

“Trust me, I’ve complained about you to her too,” she rolled her eyes. “But you were literally my only option. Call it a romance of passion. We only ‘hated’ other to cover up for our real feelings or whatever. Sam doesn’t have to like you but she definitely trusts you.”

“How romantic,” you wrinkled your nose, disgusted by the suggestion. “Wait, why am I your only option? Chad is right there, he’s already in love with you and everything. He’s like the built-in boyfriend.”

She winced. “See, I thought about that. But I just know it would probably hurt him, with the hooking up and it not being real. He probably wouldn’t feel too great about me ‘cheating’ on him.” Tara did the finger quotes around it again and you let out a whistle.

“Wow, so you do have a heart.”

She scoffed. “More than you do. Besides, we only need to pretend to be together until I find someone actually tolerable. After that, you’re free again.”

“I had a date tonight,” you narrowed your eyes at her.

“But you’re still here talking to me for some reason?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “And the way you said ‘had’ I��m thinking you don’t anymore.” Tara could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes. She always seemed to zero in on the way you spoke or what you said.

“I wasn’t too excited for it anyways,” you grumbled, and Tara laughed, realising she had been correct and being all too pleased with herself. She clasped her hands together.

“Well then. Are you going to help me, or are you going to glare at me some more?”

“The second one sounds really appealing right now,” you shot back.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be too proud of an asshole to admit this is a great plan.”

“It’s a terrible plan, and it’s absolutely going to fail when Sam tries to murder me.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

You looked at her for a long minute, contemplating if this was really the path you were going to go down. You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “I’ll do it. But you’ll sure as hell owe me.”

“Yeah yeah,” Tara waved you off, beaming from ear to ear. “Great! We’re going on a double date with her and Danny this Friday.”

“What?!” Your mouth dropped open.

“Yep,” she said, annoyingly skipping down your hallway. “I’ll text you the address and time!” she said.

“Now wait a minute-” you called after her, but she had already latched open your door and left, leaving you to watch her go. Fuck, this would end terribly. You sighed again, taking out your phone to cancel your date.

===+++===

This was so unbelievably stupid. The longer you stood outside the Italian restaurant, the more you regretted agreeing to help her.

The restaurant was nice at least, with giant marble stones and dark red accents, and you could see through the massive float glass windows that the lighting mostly featured romantic candles and potted floribunda roses against dark wood. It would ironically be the most expensive date you ever had, and you realised that with bitter sentimentality.

Tara was late, like always, and you had begun to pace along the sidewalk, tracing the cracks with the centre of your shoe while you waited for her. It was boring, out on the street, and the more couples that passed you and walked right inside, the more nauseous you felt. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, thumbing over the cracked display.

She was ten minutes late. You swiped open your text messages, still seeing nothing from her.

are you here yet???

You sent the message hastily, waiting for the typing icon to pop up or even show that she read it, but nothing. Suddenly the screen lit up and your phone started vibrating it, and you almost dropped it in surprise. “Fuck,” you cussed quietly, seeing the call incoming screen and Little Shit (do not pick up) appear at the top. You frowned, hitting the green button and accepting the call.

“Where the hell are you??? I don’t know if you noticed but we’re late,” you immediately said into the phone, aware of just how annoyed you sounded.

“Relax,” replied Tara on the other end of the line, and you could hear her eye roll from here. “Danny is a late guy too, Sam gets on him all the time for it.”

“Yeah well, I’m standing outside waiting for your late ass.” You felt someone awkwardly push past you and you winced, spinning around to usher them an apology.

“I’ll be there in a minute, I had to pick something up,” she dismissed you. “Just don’t let Sam and Danny see you. I told them we were showing up together.”

“Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?” You frowned, looking around. There was a row of bushes off to the side but you were too tall and not at all willing to crouch behind them like an idiot.

“I don’t know. Figure. It. Out.” Tara spoke slowly like you were a child and you narrowed your eyes.

“Y’know, I’m doing you a favour?”

“Ha!” Tara exclaimed, and you hissed, pulling your ear away from the phone’s speaker at the loud noise. “So you admit, it was a favour!”

“Shut up and get your ass over here," you grumbled before hanging up shortly, looking around and wandering down a side alley. It smelled disgusting back there, in the ironic, almost-dark of sunset, and it would've been a lovely night to take a walk on, had it not been for wasting it on Tara of all people.

You pulled out a box of cigarettes from your pocket, fumbling one out and sticking it between your lips. You stuck the box back in your pocket and pulled out your fancy lighter that had your name engraved on the side, thumbing over the lettering for a moment before lighting the cigarette and sticking it between your two fingers.

It felt stupid, to standing there next to the dumpster and watching some rats scurry by, but you let out a huff of smoke, remembering how much Tara had seemed excited for the parties and having fun. You didn't like her very much, nor could you really claim to be much of a saint, but you weren't a monster either.

"What are you doing??" called a voice from the end of the alley, and you spun to see Tara near the line of bushes with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She had her eyes narrowed at the cigarette, looking frustrated.

"Having a smoke. Why, want one?"

She let out a sigh of exasperation, marching straight up to you. "You can't go on a double date with my sister smelling like cigarette smoke. You know she hates that kind of stuff."

"I've smoked with her, before. Her and Mindy," you argued, pulling it from your lips to take a breath in. "I've literally given her cigarettes."

Tara glared at you, taking it from your hand and crushing it under her heel. "Yeah, well, she still hates you, and now that we're allegedly 'dating' it's different. We can't give her any reason not to trust us, and you smoking cigarettes is going to make her think I'm going to start smoking cigarettes."

You shrugged. "If she hates me so much, then she's never gonna let us 'hang out' alone or go to parties anyway."

"No, she-" Tara rolled her eyes. "She hates you, but she sure as hell trusts you. Enough to babysit me."

"Fine. What's with the flowers?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"You got them for me," Tara shrugged. "Pinnacle of romance."

You whistled to be funny, but it was a little bit impressive that she had planned that out. The plan wasn't especially well thought out, but she at least had her moments of surprising intelligence, which you couldn't begrudge her.

"Well then," she frowned. "Let's go, lover." She clutched the flowers in one hand and slid her arm to interlock with yours. You narrowed your eyes but started to walk her in.

"Don't call me that. It's weird," you muttered.

"Get used to it. Tonight we're the happiest couple on planet Earth."

The restaurant was somehow even nicer on the inside than it had been on the outside. Tara gripped your hand, tugging you along with her as she headed towards Sam and Danny's table and followed the waiter, but you were looking a little dumbfounded at the marble columns and Italian frescos painted to the walls and roof.

You made your way back, led into a giant room with a lot of people. Danny sent you a welcoming wave when they saw you; Sam looked like she was about ready to blow a gasket. She stared at you, eyeing you up and down and then lasering in on the bouquet in Tara's hands with a frown.

"Did you tell her your secret partner was me???" you whispered to Tara as you approached.

She smirked evilly. "Nope."

Fucking amazing. "Hey guys!" Danny said, friendly and open. He seemed just thrilled to be there, while Sam seethed right next to him. Tara smiled right at her sister, gesturing for you to sit next to her.

"Sorry we were late," Tara says, a little awkward but trying to seem comfortable. "We were, um..." she looked at you for help.

You blanked, throwing out the first thing you could think of. "Kissing!"

Sam nearly spit out her water, eyes widening at staring at you. Tara whipped to you, jaw slack and you sent her a sorry glance. Improv was not your thing by any means.

"Um," Danny blinked at you. "No worries. You're here now," he said with an awkward smile. His hand went to Sam's, trying to give it a comforting squeeze, but she looked like she wanted to jump over the table and then jump you. She was glowering.

"So," she said, eyes narrowed. "How long has 'this,'" she gestured between you and Tara, "been a thing?" She looked at you intensely, and you looked to Tara, trying to shrug it off. You both laughed, playing the part of the happy couple.

"Oh, a month," you said.

"Two months," Tara said, at the exact same time. Fuck.

You tried not to glare at each other. "Well, which is it?" Sam squinted at her sister, and Tara sent a kick at your leg under the table. Your knee hit the bottom of the table with a painful 'thud,' and it took everything in you to not yell out in pain from your knee cap hitting the wood.

You tried to smile it off. "Tara just said two months, because we went on a few study dates, but it wasn't official until a month ago."

"So two months then," Sam said, crossing her arms on the table.

"I get it," Danny said, nodding. "I'm bad at dates and stuff too," he laughed a bit. "I almost forgot how long Sam and I had been together after our four month anniversary." You nodded, sending him your best grin. Sam didn’t look too happy about that either, though.

"Yeah, long day, I guess." Tara said next to you, sending you her best smile, her hand coming up to rub your back. It was weird, having her this close, but you put on your best face, as if she touched you all the time.

"You go to Blackmore too, right?" he asked, and you nodded. "What do you study?"

"I'm in architecture," you replied. Finally, something you could talk about without feeling like you were crossing a minefield. From the corner of your eye, you could still see Sam staring you down with suspicion.

"Oh! That's awesome!" Danny replied, taking a sip of wine from his glass. "I love architecture, it's interesting."

"Mhm," you nodded, looking over at Tara and smirking with just a hint of malicious glee. "I tease her- my degree is actually useful. People don't really like film majors. They usually smell bad."

"Do they?" he asked, genuinely curious, and you turned back, nodding.

"Yeah, it's an unfortunately common stereotype. Film majors are annoying, smelly-," your words were cut off, feeling Tara's nail dig into your back for revenge and trying to stifle a wince. She gave the table a fake giggle.

"Okay, that's enough out of you," she said, and you grinned, cursing her out in your head.

"Why didn't you tell me it was (Y/n), Tara?" Sam asked, leaning forwards and studying you both. She seemed a bit miffed with the whole situation. You sent each other fake smiles, as if you were about to share a secret.

"Well," she said, trying to seem excited. "We just didn't want anyone ruining it, really. It was kind of a secret, and we didn't know what it would turn into. But it's just...it's been so fucking magic."

"Magic. Mhm," you hummed in agreement, looking off into the distance and pulling out the menu. You were just a bit too hungry to keep up with the game for the moment. Seriously? she shot you a glare, and you snapped to attention. "It is genuinely one of the happiest times of my life," you rushed, quickly smiling and then dropping your attention back down to the menu to look at some pasta.

“Does Chad know?” Sam asked, sitting back and staring at you both. Tara shook her head.

“Not yet. I don’t want to hurt him, but really, (Y/n)’s the one for me.” This was also a little bit impressive. Tara seemed to be a far better actor than you were, and Sam just nodded, suspicious but trusting her sister’s words.

===+++===

The moment you walked down the block and out of Sam and Danny's eyesight, your hand dropped from Tara's. The sun was just about setting in the distance, and city traffic was starting to slow down a little.

"Oh. My. God. Her face!" Tara said, laughing. She keeled over, and you smiled a little, remembering Sam's look of disgust, but quiet monitoring of your hand clutching onto Tara's. She looked like a very conservative nun, witnessing a sin being performed in real time. It was a little funny, you had to admit, not that you'd ever be caught laughing along with her.

"Danny seems nice," you said, after you walked a little farther.

Tara nodded. "He's surprisingly not a douchebag. I thought he would be, like you or something, but he's not that bad for Sam."

You scoffed. "I'm not a douchebag."

"You definitely are," Tara said, shaking her head. "One month because it wasn't official? You said we were going on dates before then. That's definitely douchebag behaviour. Sam probably thought that meant you were seeing other people."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Tara said, rolling her eyes. "And 'kissing'??? Literally anything would've been better."

"I'm trying to help you, it's either this or nothing," you huffed in annoyance. "I'm not an on-the-spot person."

"Clearly," Tara said, shaking her head in overdramatic emphasis. She stopped suddenly and you jerked backwards, seeing her mess with her shoes.

"You good?" you asked, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"These damn shoes- making me walk home- god dammit," she grumbled, messing with the straps and the buckle on the side. You waited patiently, leaning against a stone wall as you waited for her to finish.

The sky above you had turned a deep purple, small hues of orange and pink in the form of clouds sitting at the edges. It was really something, and you stopped to watch it, whistling. Tara jerked upwards, planting her foot down to stomp her shoe into place.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The sky," you said, and she craned her neck up to watch it with you. "It's just really beautiful tonight."

She hummed for a moment before looking back to you. "It's a shame I'm spending it with you, of all people," Tara snorted. "I'm sure this would be romantic to any other couple."

"It would probably really be something," you said absentmindedly, looking up in thought. "A real waste on you and me though."

"Glad we agree," she said, leading the way. You and her had taken a separate path from Danny and Sam under the guise of getting some ice cream, but neither of you were willing to pay for it. Instead, you had to figure out what you would do with ten extra minutes.

"Do you want to cross?" you asked, gesturing to the other street, she nodded and you walked up, pressing the button. When you turned back to her, her nose was wrinkled.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. You just hit the button weird."

"What?" you blinked at her. "How can someone 'hit the button weird'?"

"I don't know, but you, like, pushed it weird. With your fingers."

You rolled your eyes. "Do you have a problem with everything I do?"

“Yep,” she nodded back. “It’s annoying.”

You guys kept walking in silence for the next block or two, making a square so that you could return to Sam and Tara’s apartment together. The sun had disappeared now and faded into night, and when you turned the corner to split off, she tugged on your arm.

“Hey wait, you have to walk me home.”

“What?” you raised your eyebrows at her.

Tara shrugged. “You have to, to make Sam think we’re dating.”

You blinked at her. “But we live on opposite sides of the city.”

“Still.”

“Tara if I walk you home I’ll miss the last train,” you grumbled. “That’s a long ass walk.”

“Cmon, we have to or she won’t believe it.”

You frowned. “You’re paying for my cab then.”

She sighed. “Fine, but come on.”

She tugged you down the long strip by the hand, stopping suddenly, a block from her apartment. “Here wait,” she said, turning to you. “Give me your jacket.”

“What?” you raised your eyebrows at her. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Oh just do it, do you have to argue about everything?”

You took it off with a glare, handing it to Tara. She tried to slide it on but it was massive on her, so she bunched up the sleeves. With the flowers in her hand and your jacket, it definitely looked like you two had gone on a date.

She grabbed your hand again, pulling you forwards along the street and smiling brightly in case anyone looked out the window and saw you both. It felt a bit odd to be playing dress up, but it was helping someone out, so you didn’t begrudge her on getting you to smile either.

“Wait wait wait,” Tara said, stopping abruptly.

You groaned. “Now what.”

She pulled you to the side, near a row of shrubs that sat next to the red brick of her apartment building. “Sam’s watching us through the window.”

You turned your head, trying to see for yourself, and there she was, hanging right out the window and watching you with intense suspicion.

"Don't look at her!" Tara snapped at you, whispering with a glare. You rolled your eyes.

"What do you want me to do then, Tara?"

She frowned, biting her lip while she thought. She gave you a grimace. "We need to do, like, a goodnight kiss or something."

You glared at the suggestion. "I think I'd rather die."

"Trust me, I don't want to either," she said, glowering right back at you. "But if we do this now, we won't have to ever again."

You thought for a moment. She'd probably taste disgusting anyways, and then it would just confirm what you already knew- you hated Tara Carpenter. "Fine. Just convincing enough though."

"Okay," she nodded. When neither of you made a move to close the distance, she frowned. "Do like, a countdown or something?"

"A fucking countdown," you repeated. "We're not five."

"Just do it!" she demanded, glaring again.

"Okay, fine, Jesus Christ. Three...," your face moved a bit closer to hers. "Two," you muttered quietly, still leaning in. "One," you said, and then Tara pushed her face onto yours.

It was a chaste kiss, probably sprouting from the fact that neither of you especially wanted to do it. Her lips were softer than you expected them to be and her breath nowhere as near as it would be in your head. You pulled away quickly, and there she was, smiling up at you in the fake way she had been at the restaurant.

"Party next Friday?" she asked. "Now that Sam thinks we're together she won't care if I go. Just pick me up and we can go 'together.' Plus there's a cute kid from my film class who said she would be there."

You nodded. "Whatever."

"Great," she said with similar shortness, and she brushed right past you, heading into her building. You watched her walk off, making sure she got in the door safe. Sam was still looking at you from overhead, even when Tara had gone, and you could see Quinn standing behind her, looking with morbid curiosity.

It had never even crossed your mind to kiss Tara, just because of how annoying her personality was, and you would have rather died than admit it had been nice- that she had been nice for a night. Instead you turned around, walking off. You were sure Sam was still watching you, as you went.

===+++===

part two??? it shouldn't be too long before the next one, i had to split this up because it was getting insanely long and there's another half to the story. i didn't want this one to be like 8k words long, i'll just probably have another one that's 4-5k soon.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #scream #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you

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frehyun · 11 days ago

Text

Coffee Machine Love

boyfriend!jisung x afab!reader x coworker!hyunjin

warnings: swearing, threesome, unprotected sex (don't), oral sex (m and f receiving), mxm things, slight bondage, one (1) slap, sub!hyunjin, idk how to label the other two so I'll go with soft switch!jisung, soft switch!reader

genre: fluff, smut, coworker AU

word count: 4.2k

author's note: i'm alive again! Hyunsung has been running rampant on the tour lately so I couldn't resist writing something about them! do not ask me what the project is about, do not ask me what the company is even for, i don't know either, please forgive me 💀 hope you enjoy reading and i'd love to hear your thoughts! <3

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

Your boyfriend was practically trembling beside you as you bite into your sandwich, unbothered by his leg steadily moving up and down. You follow his gaze and weren’t surprised at all when it landed on one of your newer coworkers a few meters away at the coffee machine. If you knew Jisung at all – and you like to think you do – you could guess that his eyes zeroed in on his hands deftly working around the piece of electronics that broke every couple of weeks. His long and slender fingers expertly taking the poor coffee maker apart to fix whatever went wrong this time.

Your gaze travels back to the man beside you and you have to hold back the smirk growing on your face when you see him practically drooling over the other man, probably wishing that the fingers wrestling around with the inner small machinery were wrapped around his neck instead.

“It’s 9 in the morning, relax” – you chuckle and slap your hand on his thigh to wake him up from his stupor.

Jisung gives you an incredulous look, like he can’t believe you’re not as mesmerised by the newest addition to the office as he is. He narrows his eyes at you because he knows he can’t say anything about your betrayal while he was still within hearing distance.

The front cover of the coffee machine clicking back into place makes both of you jump.

“If he’s tense because he hasn’t had any coffee yet, that can be fixed now” – the man of Jisung’s dreams exclaims from across the two of you, his smooth voice like honey.

Now you were swooning too. Great.

Jisung almost chokes on his own spit trying to answer him as fast as possible, waving his hands around in dismissal, “no, no”, he chokes out, “she’s just being silly, I was…uhm- I’m just nervous because of a project. Yeah.”

What the fuck was he talking about? He could’ve just said ‘yes, I need a coffee, thank you so much, man I haven’t asked about his name yet, you really saved my morning, let me thank you by sucking your dick” or whatever and it would have been fine.

Luckily for him, the guy just gives one of the cutest, goofiest smiles you’ve ever seen and it hits you right in the heart. Maybe Jisung was onto something.

“Is that so? Well, if you ever need any assistance, feel free to call on me! They’re barely giving me any work and I’d rather help someone than sit around and do nothing for my remaining work time.”

Jisung nods fervently, stuttering something between ‘yes, oh my god, thank you’ and ‘you’re an angel” but it just comes out as ‘yes, you’re my angel’, making you and him visibly cringe. This couldn’t go any worse.

The guy, however, giggles sweetly as he moves to leave the room and this is the first time you notice how long his legs are, how lanky and tall he is.

“I’m Hyunjin, by the way. My room’s down this hall, I’m sure you can’t miss it. Feel free to stop by anytime!”

He doesn’t wait for either of you to answer or introduce yourselves back to him, so the two of you are left to watch as he strides down the corridor.

“Oh my God, he’s into idiots.”

“He wants me so bad.”

Jisung lightly slaps your shoulder at your remark.

“You liked me first! That says more about you than it says about me!”

You roll your eyes at him and get back to your sandwich before your break is over. Unfortunately, your mind is now also filled with Hyunjin.

The way his hands delicately but deftly repaired the cursed coffee machine.

The way his shirt perfectly spanned over his broad shoulders as he leaned over the counter.

The way his ass looked in his slacks.

And God, when he turned around, his smile making his eyes into little crescent moons, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. His full and plush lips. His kind and soft eyes.

You groan into your sandwich and kick at Jisung’s shoe.

“You infected me with the Hyunjin disease, are you proud?” – you say with red-tinted cheeks.

“Extremely. We desperately have to check in with him if he’d be into two people wanting him. But like, in a way that doesn’t scream ‘We’re desperate!!’, you know?”

You can’t help but agree with him.

And so began your and Jisung’s mission to scope out whether Hyunjin would be interested in you two.

You didn’t want to kick down his door and straight up ask him, in case that scared him away, because even if he declined, he seemed like a nice guy and it wouldn’t hurt to have him as a friend. So Jisung and you really did stop by his office later that week to ask for his assistance with a made-up project.

His office only housed him, so he was allowed to decorate it how he wanted to, potted plants scattered around the sunny spots and little trinkets here and there that made the place seem more lived in than any other office you had ever been to. His desk was neat, the pinboard beside it home to various little reminders and sketches presumably made by himself in that endless free time he mentioned. You had to admit that he was quite talented, his pencil lines precise as they combine into the image of a beautiful flower bouquet.

“So, the two of you are on this project, after all? I thought it was just him” – Hyunjin nods towards your boyfriend, who was inspecting a little bear figure on his shelf.

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind you two sniffing around the place.

“Because he failed to mention that last time, he got nervous when you caught him off-guard like that” – you sigh and shake your head, leaning back against his desk.

You don’t miss how Hyunjin’s eyes seem to flicker down to where your hips pressed against the wood for just a second and a small smile finds its way onto your lips.

He tilts his head and apologises with a candid smile, saying that he didn’t mean to scare anyone off. If only he knew.

Jisung and you had previously come up with an elaborate plan on what your project entailed. It was a simple project that required a little bit of knowledge from Hyunjin’s division that the two of you weren’t a part of. Easy enough to make it seem like you actually needed his help. Also easy enough to pretend the project was real.

The thought that all of you probably had too much free time on your hands crosses your mind.

“So you just need me to work my magic a little bit and your head of department is gonna be happy?”

“Hopefully!”

“What is this even for? Didn’t we showcase this to upper management a few months back already?”

How did he know that? Why didn’t you think of that? You shift against the desk and Hyunjin’s eyes flit back to you, his gaze now trained on you intently, waiting for your reply.

“They just wanted a redo of the model since the first one got deleted in that data leak a while back” – Jisung lies casually, suddenly disinterested in the décor.

Hyunjin seems to accept that answer as he nods, eyes still on you as if he was gauging your reaction. You shift again under his gaze, looking into his eyes and giving him a slightly shaky smile.

Seemingly satisfied with whatever he was observing, the three of you proceed to go over the rather uninteresting details of what needs to be done.

During your little discussion, Jisung makes a not-so-subtle attempt at situating himself closer to your colleague under the guise of ‘I want to watch you work, it’s fascinating’.

It’s still crazy to you that all of his attempts have worked so far. You’re still close to Hyunjin as well, perched against the corner of his desk, his arm almost brushing against your thigh whenever he needs to reach for something or move the mouse around in a larger motion, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ when he does accidentally touch you.

Jisung almost leans on his shoulder with the way he’s sitting so close beside the older man.

While Jisung seems genuinely interested in Hyunjin’s work, you take this opportunity to further check him out as he works. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his hands again as they work their way across the keyboard, his long fingers flexing to reach the keys.

While having them wrapped around your neck is certainly an enticing idea, you rather wonder what they would look like prettily bound together.

You could swear there was a slight reddish tint to Hyunjin’s neck and ears ever since he was practically caged in by your and Jisung’s body.

You sigh, more to yourself than anything. This was gonna be a long and grueling mission, but at least it didn’t seem like Hyunjin hated being around either of you.

That same evening, you find yourself in your boyfriend’s lap, grinding needily against him, your arms around his neck, while he busied himself biting and licking at the expanse of your skin of your neck.

“He’s really nice” – you suddenly say and Jisung hums in agreement between bites, his hands finding their way to the backs of your thighs, guiding your movements to be harsher against him.

“He was so flustered when you got closer to him, his neck and the tips of his ears all blushy and red” – you ramble on and it seems to spur your boyfriend on, his breathing growing more ragged, his movements more desperate.

“I think he’d rather enjoy being under us than above us, don’t you think? He seemed to lose all his previous bravado when it was just us three in a small space. I bet he’s cute when he’s begging on his knees, just imagine it” – Jisung lets out a broken moan in response, his grinding against you coming to a halt.

“Ah, shit” – he whispers against you and you giggle lightly.

You lean back to take a look at him, his honey skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. He shyly looks anywhere but you and you take his face into your hands to force him to look at you.

“It’s pretty hot that you came from just that” – you plant a soothing kiss against his lips as he whines about your words. You card your fingers through his hair, softly scraping at his scalp as he’s still slowly coming down from his high.

“I’ll make it up to you” – he murmurs and taps your thighs, signaling you to get off him to return the favor.

And he does make it up to you, his face buried between your legs until you finally reach your high as well, fingers tangled into his hair and pressing him against you.

“We really have to do something about this” – he sighs as the two of you settle down on your bed.

You hum, nuzzling your face further into his chest, too tired to try and come up with a plan on how to break it to Hyunjin softly that two of his coworkers want him romantically and have been lying to him about needing his help.

The next couple of work sessions with Hyunjin were rather uneventful. There were some moments where either Jisung or you got closer to him, ‘accidentally’ brushing your hand against his thigh, ‘accidentally’ going shoulder to shoulder with him, ‘accidentally’ sitting as close as possible so that your thighs would touch. Without fail, Hyunjin would turn slightly red at the contact but never shying away from it nor seeming uncomfortable. Sometimes, you could swear that he even reciprocates the touch, his thigh pressing against yours more firmly, his body slightly leaning towards your hand whenever it brushed against his bicep.

Hyunjin was wonderful to work with, he took instructions well and added his own flair to whatever you wanted from him in a way that elevated your work immensely. Outside from your little mission, you three got along really well, which encouraged you to further pursue getting closer to him.

You were now situated across from him, enjoying your lunch. You didn’t expect your previously innocent conversation to take such a turn when Hyunjin seemed to have found the courage to ask a question he had been dying to ask for quite a while now.

“I gotta ask… I don’t want to misunderstand. Are you… flirting with me?”

Jisung almost chokes on his rice. You stare at Hyunjin.

“I mean! I know you two are in a relationship and everything but… I can’t help but feel like you two are getting… awfully close at times. Not that I mind!” – he hastily tries to explain himself, his neck getting redder by the second again.

“Wow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m impressed it took you this long to notice, actually” – you can’t help but tease him a little.

“What? So both of you ARE flirting with me? For real?” – Hyunjin’s eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth hanging open a little. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The two coworkers that he’d been working with (and found extremely attractive) for weeks did actually flirt with him whenever you met up.

“Yeah. You’re cute. Jisung’s been losing it over you ever since that coffee machine incident a few weeks back” – you admit easily and receive a glare from Jisung beside you.

Hyunjin chuckles out of disbelief and the nervousness creeping up in him.

“The project… It’s not real, is it?”

“Nope” – Jisung answers swiftly, popping the ‘p.’

Hyunjin should be mad that the two of you made him do extra work for free, but for some reason he isn’t.

“Uhm…so what? Is this just a ‘your vibe matches with ours and we want to play around a bit’ or is this something… more serious?” – you could observe him starting to fidget with the ends of his sleeves, nervously biting the skin of his lips and your gaze immediately softened.

This was important. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t make him believe you’re just here to play around with his feelings. That’s no what you’re here to do.

“Listen, I know this is a lot. I mean, two people who are already in a relationship coming up to you like this. This is definitely something serious, not just playing around. We really like you” – you reach across the table with your palm up, giving him the chance to take your hand if he wanted to.

He sheepishly takes your hand into his, his large hand filling yours out with ease, yet as you gazed over to him with a gentle smile on your face, he seemed so small, so unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want any of this and want us to stop flirting with you and would prefer to be friends, that’s fine by us as well. Just be honest with us, I’d hate it if we made you uncomfortable or did something you didn’t want.”

While Jisung is decidedly quiet beside you, he’s nodding along to what you’re saying, softly smiling at him.

Hyunjin grabs your hand tighter and shakes his head slightly, his eyes still big.

“N-no. This is all fine. I’m okay with this”, he swallows around the lump that formed in his throat, “I like you two as well. I thought I was just imagining things, wishing they were really happening. I’m glad that wasn’t the case.”

There are two ways one can react to this.

One, smile at him, telling him you’re glad he’s reciprocating.

And two, clapping your hands and audibly going ‘fuck yes.’

You stare at your boyfriend.

“Really?”

“What? He’s hot.”

Hyunjin giggles at that and you have to begrudgingly remember that Hyunjin seems to be into idiots as much as you are.

You groan and theatrically put your head on the table while Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 are laughing with each other, getting rid of all the tension that was previously building up in your small break room.

You jolt a little when Hyunjin’s hand removes itself from yours and instead starts patting your head in pity.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be that bad.

Your relationship with Hyunjin develops beautifully, he was as romantic as they come, regularly bringing the two of you flowers, writing little encouraging messages when he knew you and Jisung had to attend a particularly exhausting meeting.

It was nice getting to cuddle not only one but two people you loved dearly, waking up in the morning to two pretty faces whose cheeks you wanted to squish.

Another pleasant development was that Jisung and you could test out your theories, which is how Hyunjin found himself kneeling on your bedroom carpet, looking up at you with large eyes, his cock heavy and red between his legs. While Jisung is busy getting something from your dresser, you cup your hands around Hyunjin’s small face.

“Please…” – he whines at your touch, already so beautifully needy even though you haven’t done much yet.

He had been driving you insane at work today, teasing you at every opportunity, ‘accidentally’ letting a touch linger too long on your hip, a kiss a little bit too passionate and lasting a second too long. You knew he was just driving you up the wall on purpose and you guess he got what he wanted but that also meant that you were allowed to torture him a little to get back at him.

“Please what, princess?”- Hyunjin nestles his face against your hand and sighs contently.

“I need you so bad…” – he murmurs against your hand, giving a little kiss to your palm and you suddenly want to hand him the world served on a silver platter.

Seeing as Jisung has finally found the rope hidden in your dresser, you bend down to take Hyunjin’s hands into yours.

“Get up, love” – after helping him find his footing again, you teasingly give his cock one generous pump before tying his hands together with the rope and practically tossing him on your shared bed.

He lets out a whimper as you climb after him, hungry eyes zeroed in on his leaking cock. Your hands ghosts over his tip, barely touching him. Another whine leaves his lips as his hips buck up towards your hand, desperate for any kind of relief.

On the other side of his body, Jisung busies himself with kissing up his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses up his body.

The new unspoken mission was to fuck Hyunjin silly and find out what shades of red he could turn to.

While you still refuse to give in to Hyunjin’s needs, ghosting your fingers across the length of his dick idly, you watch as Jisung put his fingers underneath his chin to tilt his head up to force him to focus his eyes on him.

“You’re gonna be a good boy, aren’t you?” – he asks him sweetly.

Hyunjin nods frantically in response and lets out a tiny ‘yes’, hoping that this would mean one of you would finally touch him properly.

Jisung smiles down at him before kissing him deeply. You take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his length at the same time and start pumping him agonisingly slow.

You love how squirmy Hyunjin gets when he’s needy, writhing underneath both your touches, not knowing what to do with his body, where to turn next, which touch to chase. You know it kills him that he can’t hold onto Jisung’s shoulder properly or put one of his hands on your thigh with the way his hands are rubbing against the ropes.

You make a mental note to unbind his hands in a bit so his wrists don’t get chafed up too badly.

One of Jisung’s hands finds its way down to his chest, playing with his nipples leisurely as he kisses him, the other lightly wrapping around Hyunjin’s neck, not applying pressure yet. It still forces a delicious moan from his lips.

“You’re being so good” – you say in a low voice, slowly undoing the ropes around his wrists. You pepper a few kisses on the slightly reddened skin up to his fingertips, kissing them delicately one by one.

Jisung whispers something in his ear that makes Hyunjin laugh breathily and while you wonder what’s so funny, it warms your heart to see the two of them so at ease with each other.

You give a light slap to Jisung’s ass to get him to move further up and he yelps loudly.

“That’s for not including me in the joke. Now get your cute butt up there.”

“Boy secret” – Hyunjin cheekily says and giggles again. You playfully roll your eyes at him and as revenge, move down to take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sudden warmth makes his giggles die down into a loud whimper, his face contorting from pleasure.

Jisung, as instructed, crawls up the bed and takes a handful of Hyunjin’s hair into his hand, angling his head towards him.

“You want some too, pretty boy?”

Hyunjin licks his lips in preparation and nods up at him, opening up his mouth obediently before wrapping his plush lips around his length and sucking.

As Hyunjin gets closer to his climax, his hand gently pushes your face away from him, to signal you he’s close while he can’t say it verbally.

You let Hyunjin get further away from his high as you watch him and Jisung fool around fondly, your hand splayed out on his tummy. You feel awfully neglected, the slick between your thighs only an indication of how aroused you were.

Jisung was still blissfully lost in the warmth of his mouth, rutting his hips into him over and over, small gasps and praises leaving his lips that only spurn the older man on. Deciding that Hyunjin had enough time to come down and that it was unfair that they were the only two getting some action, you throw your leg over his hips before sinking down on him, eliciting a long, muffled moan from him.

The vibration of his whimpers are enough to tip Jisung over the edge, some of his cum still making it onto Hyunjin’s tongue as he hastily pulls out and drops to sit beside him, catching his breath.

Seeing as Hyunjin can now focus entirely on you, you grin down at him, bracing yourself against his chest as you deliberately start to move your hips against him, his hands immediately coming up to grab at the flesh of your thighs.

“Focus on me now, angel” – you sigh, chasing your and his high, your hips steadily moving up and down in a rough pace.

Hyunjin throws his head back against the pillows as he lets out a strangled moan, tears already formed in his glossy eyes.

“You’re so pretty, so pretty, just for us, Hyune” – you say between gasps, your climax steadily approaching as you ride him.

“So fucking pretty. You were made for us.”

All your pretty words seem to work wonders on him, his hips meeting yours in shallow thrusts, desperately trying to get the two of you off and snap the tension that had been building.

You don’t know when he moved but Jisung’s warm lips press kisses into your shoulder, his hands now also on your hips, guiding you alongside your other boyfriend.

“I love you, I love you” – Hyunjin chants and the chord between you snaps, the two of you coming undone in eachother’s embrace, your juices mixing as you come.

Once your head clears, you lean down and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, whispering an ‘I love you too’ against them. You grab Jisung by his shoulder to also press a kiss to his lips before plopping down beside Hyunjin, utterly exhausted.

Your boyfriends take care of the cleanup before racing to get under the covers with you.

“Glad that stupid fake project brought us together.”

“I think I did a pretty good job at it even though it was fake, don’t call it stupid!”

“Not our fault you put so much effort into it.”

“And do what? Half-ass it?”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t aware it was fake! Do you think I half-ass all of my work?”

“I don’t know? Maybe?!”

With a grin on your lips, you let out a loud sigh at their bickering, as you settle back against the warmth of their bodies. The bed feels a lot more complete now that Hyunjin was by your side as well. Their scent surrounds you, their voices fill your ears, their warmth warms up your body and a peaceful calmness finds your heart.

Surrounded by enough love to let you drift off to sleep even amongst their yapping.

It doesn’t take long for them to notice you slumbering between them and smiles filled with affection grow on their faces. They decide to leave their squabble for another day with a soft goodnight kiss before they too settle back against the pillows and hope for sleep to find them in the embrace of their lovers.

(extra photos from today's concert because look at them)

487 notes · View notes

golden-cherry · 17 days ago

Text

deal - cl16 (43/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Getting ready for a party is always fun when the company is good.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff, tiny bit of angst (body insecurity if you squint), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.5k

series masterlist

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A/N: cherry is still sick, but this needed to get out of my head. feedback is appreciated. love ya.

When Kika puts her bag on the living room table, it clinks suspiciously.

“My goodness, did you bring half the supermarket with you?” you ask her with a grin, which develops into a loud laugh when Pierre puts down a huge bag next to the door. ”And you brought your whole wardrobe too.”

“Of course I did,” she smiles, kissing your left and right cheek. ”After all, I don't know what you're wearing, and I thought we could coordinate our outfits a little.”

Pierre puts an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. “I'm glad you only packed one bag,” he says, kissing her temple. “Please pick up the other stuff off the floor tomorrow. The bedroom looks like a battlefield.”

Kika rolls her eyes but snuggles up against him. “You love me.” She looks up at him with her huge brown eyes as he leans down to her.

“I do,” he smiles against her lips, and the moment is so intimate that you leave them alone in the living room.

Charles is standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen and smiles at you as you enter the room. “Everything okay?”

You nod and sit down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. "How long have they been together, by the way?”

“I think about two years," he replies, leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter behind him with his palms. ”They're cute, aren't they?”

“Absolutely,” you smile. "Almost a little too sweet. I fled the living room when I saw the way they looked at each other, like he was about to propose.”

Your roommate has to laugh. "You should see them together at a Grand Prix. A few drivers – myself included – have a bet on when he'll ask her to marry him.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you bet for money?”

The Monegasque raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a sip. "Yup.”

“And what was the stake?”

Charles hesitates and avoids your gaze. "100€.”

A grin spreads across your face. ”Can I still join?”

Your friend raises his eyes and looks at you in wonder, but before he can say anything, Kika and Pierre enter the kitchen. Pierre now places the heavy bag, which had just clinked suspiciously, on the kitchen island. Not a second later, the Portuguese woman reaches into the opening and pulls out a bottle of wine.

“Sweet,” she says and holds out the bottle for you to see. The brand doesn't look familiar, but the label is pink and the glass is a mint green, and the way your friend looks at you, you know exactly that you'll like the wine.

You take two wine glasses out of the kitchen cupboard and place them in front of her. “And what are the boys drinking?”

Charles puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Boys? Boys?" He shakes his head. "We're men.”

You wrinkle your nose and grin at him. "Since when?”

Your roommate walks around the kitchen island and wraps his arm around your neck to put you in a light headlock. He presses you against the counter in front of you with his big body and whispers in your ear. “Do you want me to show you again?”

“Please get a room.” Kika grins and pours the wine into your two glasses.

Charles lets his arm slide from your neck to your collarbones, where it then remains. “You're in our apartment. You can just leave,” he replies annoyed, as if your friends' presence were preventing him from dragging you to the bedroom right now. Which maybe it is. But you don't want to think about that.

“Then I'll take this one back with me.” Kika reaches into her handbag again and pulls out another bottle, before placing it in front of you both. "For your beloved Moscow Mule.”

You don't need to look at the man behind you to know that he's grinning. "If you two ever break up, I'll keep Kika.”"

“Ouch,” Pierre says, pouting. "And I thought our friendship was more important to you than ginger beer.”

With his free hand, Charles grabs the bottle and lifts it up before smiling at the Frenchman. "I thought so too.”

“Okay, okay.“ Kika grabs her glass and the bottle of wine before looking at you. ‘You and I are going to get dressed up. You can play video games or something in the meantime." She kisses Pierre on the cheek before heading for the kitchen door. ”You coming?”

You nod, but turn around in Charles' arms to look at him again. “What are you going to wear?”

Your friend shrugs. “I was thinking of a simple black button-down," he replies, raising his hand to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. "Do you already have something in mind?”

You shake your head. ”Not really, no.”

Charles smiles gently at you before weaving his fingers through your hair before they come to rest at the nape of your neck. “You're sure to find something nice. You look perfect in anything, anyway.” He leans forward a bit and breathes a kiss on your forehead.

“You're disgusting!” Kika's voice sounds from the hallway.

Charles flips her the bird before letting go of you. “Go. Before you get into trouble. And let me know if you need anything.”

You smile at him briefly before taking your wine glass and following your best friend towards the bedroom. Once there, you watch as Kika empties her bag, which was just standing in the living room, onto the bed. “I don't want to imagine what your bedroom looks like at your place.”

“Believe me, it's actually better if you don't.” She grabs the clothes and starts sorting them on the bed. "How was your Christmas?”

You take a big gulp of wine. "Good.”

The Portuguese woman looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Wow, you tell it like I was already there.” She matches a white top to a dark red satin skirt. “Tell me. Did you visit Charles Mom?”

“We did,” you reply and sit down on the last free spot on the bed. “I haven't had such a nice Christmas in a long time.”

Kika smiles at you. “Did you two fuck?”

You almost drop your glass. "Kika!" you whisper indignantly and quickly close the door so that the men can't hear you. You lean back against the wood.

“So you fucked,” she grins and raises her wine glass to toast you. When you stare at her, she lowers her glass again. ”Y'all didn't fuck?”

“We didn't.”

“But you did something.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Like a curious little child, she draws up her legs and sits cross-legged, chin resting on her fist. “Tell me everything.”

You have to laugh. ”I thought we had to get ready for the party.”

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

And you do. You tell her everything that has happened in the last few days. About the night you gave Charles a massage and about the night on the boat. That he gave you an employment contract as a Christmas present so that you can be together permanently. About Christmas and last night, when you got closer than ever before. The way he called you “his girl”.

Kika listens intently and asks questions in between, but first and foremost she lets you say everything that is on your mind – and that seems to be quite a lot.

You tell her how confused you are because you don't know exactly where you stand with Charles. But also that it's okay for you, because as long as you can somehow participate in Charles's life, that's enough for you. It's like you're addicted to him – and every little dose you get of him draws you further under his spell.

When the men knock on the door an hour later, you've just finished and are catching your breath for the first time.

“Is everything okay?“ Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. He seems to ignore the bed's mess – or he doesn't even notice it.

“Everything's fine,” you smile.

He nods and points at Pierre, who is standing behind him. “We just wanted to get pizza so that we can eat something decent before the party. What do you want on it?”

“Just a simple Margarita, please,” you reply, Kika gives the same answer.

Charles smiles at you. “Have you found an outfit yet?” When he sees the empty wine bottle on the dresser, he presses his tongue into his cheek. “Or did you have so much to talk about that you haven't had time yet?” He raises an eyebrow. He knows exactly what you've been talking about for the last hour.

Warmth rises to your cheeks. “The latter.”

Your roommate nods again. "Okay. You still have a little time. We're on our way. See you in a bit," he says goodbye and closes the door behind him.

Kika looks at you. ”He's right. We really should start thinking about what we want to wear.”

As if you were at a fashion show, you try on everything that could possibly go with the club. Dark red dresses, the little black dress, satin trousers and corsets that accentuate the décolleté. But somehow there is nothing that convinces you.

Annoyed, you lie down on the bed with your back on it, the clothes are spread out on the floor of the room. Kika lies down next to you.

“Is it always like this?” you ask her, crossing your arms over your face.

“What do you mean?”

You breathe out loudly. “It's the first time I'm consciously out and about with people who are famous. Is it always so exhausting to find something appropriate so you don't embarrass yourself?”

“I think you get used to it,” the Portuguese woman replies. ”I had to learn that too at the beginning. That there are some items of clothing that suit your figure and some that don't. And just because something looks good on you doesn't mean you feel comfortable in it.”

“And how do you do it?” you ask her, looking at her. "I mean, you're a model. You obviously look good in anything. But – I don't know.”

Kika shrugs. "It took me a long time to feel comfortable in certain things. But most of the time I actually wear things that I didn't have to be convinced of at all. And then I don't care what others say about me. I feel comfortable – and I want to keep it that way.” When you don't answer, she grabs your hand. "It'll get easier. And until it does, you've got me by your side." She nudges you in the side. ”And your roommate, who practically undresses you with his eyes.”

You roll your eyes mock-annoyed. “He doesn't.”

“He does,” she grins. “But that's okay. After all, you're absolutely perfect. You could go to the club in a potato sack and you'd look bombastic.”

“Well,” you say. “Unfortunately, I don't have a potato sack here that I could put on.”

When the door suddenly opens, you both jump. The boys are standing in the doorway, Pierre has two pizza boxes in his hand and Charles a smaller black box.

“Where have you been? It's been almost an hour since you left” Kika asks, getting up from the bed.

“We had to get something,“ says Pierre, motioning for her to follow him. As Kika takes your wine glasses and the two of them leave the bedroom, Charles sits down on the bed next to you.

“I brought you something,” he smiles, placing the box on the mattress between you.

You sit up and examine the box. “What is it?”

Your roommate shrugs. “You asked me what to wear to parties in Monaco, and I still owe you an answer.”

Slowly, you reach for the box and take off the lid. Inside, wrapped in dark red paper, is a dress. Black and long, with thin straps and a low-cut back. As you carefully take it out of the box, you are speechless.

“Do you like it?” He asks and watches you get up from the bed and hold it up properly.

You stare at it, mouth agape. "Where did you get this?" You ask him, holding it up to your body and looking at yourself in the mirror.

“It's not important. Do you like it?“ he asks again, his eyes glued to you.

“It's gorgeous,” you breathe, turning a little to get a better idea of how it would look on you. “I—how much did it cost? I'll definitely pay you back the money.”

“Absolutely not,” he replies immediately and with a tone that allows no argument. "It didn't even leave a small dent in my bank account." He gets up and stands behind you. He's so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. "You'll look stunning in it.”

You look at him through the mirror. “And if you put on your black shirt, we'll even match,” you smile, before carefully hanging the dress over the sideboard.

Charles wraps his arm around you to press you against him. You feel his hardness against your lower back as he leans down to you and places feather-light kisses on your neck. “That was the plan,” he whispers, and goosebumps spread across your body where his hot breath caresses your skin.

His hand moves under your sweater and his fingertips slowly glide over your ribs before his thumb hesitantly slides under the fabric of your bra. Breathing heavily, you lean your head against his shoulder and give him more room on your neck as his thumb slowly circles around your nipple.

“Charles,” you breathe softly and arch towards him. You want more. So much more.

When Kika's voice echoes through the apartment, you break away from each other. ”Come on! The pizza will get cold!”

With hot cheeks and wet panties, you let Charles lead you into the living room, where the other couple is already sitting on the couch eating pizza. Another bottle of wine is on the table in front of Kika, who is refilling your glasses.

Although the couch is big enough, Charles pulls you right next to him on the cushion and puts your legs over his lap. For a moment, you wonder if he's doing this just so the others can't see his boner.

“Here,” Kika smiles, handing you a slice of pizza, which you accept gratefully.

The four of you eat dinner together and chat about Christmas, Charles‘ upcoming training camp and New Year's Eve, while the boys’ pizza boxes, wine bottles and drinks get emptier and emptier.

“I was thinking of throwing a New Year's Eve party,” Kika says, putting her wine glass back on the table. ‘You're obviously invited. I wanted to invite a few other friends, but your attendance is most important to me.”

“Well, I'd love to come,’ you smile, looking at Charles. ”Unless you have something else planned.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I won't be back from camp until the afternoon, so we'll probably see each other again at the party first. But until then, you'll be in good company for sure.”

“Excuse me?” Kika says indignantly. “I'm the best company!”

Pierre puts his arm around his girlfriend and kisses her on the cheek. ”For me, definitely.”

Kika leans against her boyfriend before gently kissing him. “I know.”

Charles quickly grabs a pillow and throws it at them. “Please get a room!” He jokes, repeating Kika's words. When she flashes him her middle finger, he can't help but laugh. “Come on, you two. Get ready. We have to leave soon.” He runs his fingers over your shins before smiling at you. “Go put on your new dress.”

You can't stop smiling. “See you in a bit.”

While the men continue to chat, Kika and you get ready. With professional precision, she applies make-up on your face before doing your hair and then taking care of herself. The Portuguese woman decides on a short black dress with pearl embroidery. When she is finished styling herself, she helps you into your new dress.

“Careful with the straps,” she smiles as she pulls it up your body. You put your arms through it carefully so as not to damage it. When you're dressed, Kika looks at you skeptically. "The bra has to go.”

You look at her with a raised eyebrow. "You want me to go out without a bra?”

“Don't you have an invisible bra?” When you shake your head, she purses her lips into a thin line. ”Then you'll have to go out without a bra. Unfortunately, the straps are so thin that you can see the bra underneath either way. But we can tape over the nipples if you like. At least they won't be visible in the cold outside.”

Without further ado, she disappears from the room and while she is looking for something to cover the nipples with in the apartment, you examine yourself in the mirror in your room, but no matter how you turn, it is too small to see you from top to bottom. On bare feet, you walk to Charles' bedroom across the hall, where the new, larger mirror is leaning against the wall.

The satin dress clings to your curves and accentuates your body exactly where it should. There is a slit on the left side that reaches to the middle of your thigh and the back neckline is so low that you couldn't pull your thong all the way up because it would otherwise show.

You examine yourself in the mirror and don't even notice that Charles is leaning against the doorframe until he starts talking.

“Let's stay home,” he suggests, his expression impenetrable. He is wearing his black shirt as promised, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks wickedly handsome.

You smile at him and try to suppress the dirty thoughts that are trying to take over your brain. “We can't cancel now,” you reply. “First of all, the others are already here, and secondly, Lando is definitely waiting for us.”

“I don't care.” With quiet steps, he moves towards you without taking his eyes off you. Like a predator that stares at its prey before it snaps.

You turn to him. ”You have very good taste, Charles. The dress is perfect.”

He answers without hesitation. “Not as perfect as the woman wearing it." The Monegasque stands directly in front of you and looks down at you. "Let's stay home," he suggests again. His large hands find their rightful place on your hips and pull you towards him. His eyes glow seductively.

“It would be rude to cancel now.”

“It wasn't a request,” he whispers, turning you so that you are standing with your back to him. Once again, you can see him through the mirror. He grabs the flesh of your hip with one hand, while the other hand wanders over your upper body until it rests on your neckline. ”That dress was definitely a mistake.”

You look at him, confused. “Why? I thought you liked it?”

“That's not the point,” he whispers, kissing your bare neck. His stubble scratches a little, but you couldn't care less. "I just don't know how to hold back when you look like this." His teeth graze the soft skin below your ear. ”God, you look devine.”

His hand slides gently into the dress from above and encloses your bare chest. At the same time, a soft moan escapes you. “Charles.”

“Merde,” he curses and presses you against him. “How am I supposed to keep my fingers to myself when I know you're not wearing a bra?”

As his fingers gently play with your nipple, you bite your lip. “Who said you had to?” you tease him, whereupon his other hand gently rests on your neck, though not squeezing. Sadly.

“I can't wait to be back here later,” he gasps and presses a final kiss on your shoulder before taking his hands off you. You watch him fix his erection in his pants so that it can't be seen. But it's there, you know that. And just the thought of it gets your blood pumping. ”And then neither of us leaves this bed until I say so.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you ask, tilting your head so he can see the red marks on your skin where his beard has left its mark

Charles suppresses the urge to pull you close and throw you onto the new bed to fuck you relentlessly until your legs give out and you forget your name. He flexes his hand. “Both, mon amour. Definitely both.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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zvaigzdelasas · 1 year ago

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For five days, the Israeli military had been drawing closer to the hospital, where hundreds of patients, including newborn babies, have gone without electricity and with little food as fighting raged around them. Witnesses told Reuters that tanks entered the complex at 3am and that one parked in front of the emergency department. Mohammed Zaqout, the director of hospitals in the territory, said Israeli soldiers entered the emergency department and the surgery building, which also contains intensive care units. An official at the Hamas-run health ministry told AFP he could see “dozens of soldiers and commandos inside the emergency and reception buildings”. Witnesses who spoke to the BBC and AFP said Israeli soldiers used loudspeakers to demand that all males aged between 16 and 40 leave every part of the hospital complex other than the surgical and emergency wings and enter the hospital courtyard.

“All men 16 years and above, raise your hands,” a soldier shouted in accented Arabic, according to a journalist speaking to AFP. “Exit the building towards the courtyard and surrender,” the soldier ordered. About 1,000 Palestinian males, their hands above their heads, were soon led into the vast hospital courtyard, some of them stripped naked by Israeli soldiers checking them for weapons or explosives, the journalist said.[...]

The Israeli army released video showing soldiers carrying boxes labelled “baby food” and “medical supplies”.

A spokesperson for the Palestinian ministry of health in Gaza, Ashraf al-Qudra, told Al Jazeera Arabic that “only doctors, patients and displaced people” were present when Israeli forces entered the hospital’s emergency department. “We have nothing to be afraid of or hide,” he said. Omar Zaqout, who works in the emergency room at al-Shifa, told Al Jazeera that Israeli soldiers had detained and assaulted some men who had taken refuge there. “[They] did not bring any aid or supplies, they only brought terror and death,” he said.[...]

The Israeli authorities have long maintained that Hamas uses the area below the hospital as a command centre. Hamas and hospital staff deny this. The IDF said in a briefing that soldiers found “weapons and other terror infrastructure,” at al-Shifa, and that they had seen “concrete evidence that Hamas terrorists used the Shifa hospital as a terror headquarters,” which they intended to publish later.

Hamas said the IDF’s claims were “nothing but a continuation of the lies and cheap propaganda, through which [Israel] is trying to give justification for its crime aimed at destroying the health sector in Gaza”.

The raid continued well into the afternoon, though details were scant due to a widespread telecommunications blackout[...]

The head of the World Health Organization, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, said his organisation had lost contact with medics inside al-Shifa. In the late afternoon, Boursh told Al Jazeera that Israeli troops were still present in the hospital. “They are still here … patients, women and children are terrified,” he said. He said the medical staff had vowed to stay with their patients “till the end.”[...]

Boursh told the Guardian that some who attempted to flee al-Shifa earlier this week were surrounded by gunfire as they left the hospital grounds, and turned back.

The Palestinian health ministry said 40 patients died on Tuesday, after five days without the fuel needed to power generators that fed dialysis machines and other vital medical equipment. The hospital had also run out of clean water, and doctors said they were subsisting on dates to survive as food supplies dwindled to nothing.

Corpses were piled in front of the hospital, with staff too terrified to move between buildings. The UN’s office for humanitarian affairs said staff at al-Shifa, for decades the linchpin of Gaza’s medical system, had begun preparations for a mass grave to entomb 180 bodies in front of the facility, as there was no way for them to leave in order to bury the dead.

15 Nov 23

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submattsmxmmy · 30 days ago

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Dead dove: do not eat 💖 Hiii, it's @ariestrxsh and this is my secondary account. Here is my contribution to kinktober. I know the Ghostface trope has been done so many times, but I figured it would still be a fun little smut to write in honor of Halloween.

👻🎀 content warning: smut, degradation, predator/prey dynamic, restraints, knife play, blood play, ghostface!matt, ghostface!chris, slutty!reader

👻🎀 author's note: idk if this would be considered a dead dove: do not eat fic, but it certainly contains some rather dark material, so i'd rather label it that way to be safe. also, my reader's slutty nun outfit may offend you if you're religious, so please scroll and don't read if it's going to upset you.

👻🎀 summary: you're throwing a halloween party at your house in a remote area. the night becomes like a thrilling, real-life horror movie after your friends, matt and chris both show up dressed as the infamous ghostface.

masquerade

"What are you guys going as tonight?" You asked Nick, Matt, and Chris as the four of you aimlessly wandered around the Halloween store that was littered with all the decor you could dream of for the party you were throwing later. You'd done most of your holiday shopping a few weeks prior, but you just needed a few final touches to complete the vibe you were going for.

"I'm going as Stu Macher," Nick responded, fiddling with some tacky Halloween decoration. "I'm going as Ghostface," Chris confidently replied, and your gaze softened as you pictured him in one of those sexy masks.

"Hey, what the fuck, Chris? I'm going as Ghostface," Matt slugged Chris in the arm. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips fell open as you pictured them both in the Ghostface costume. "Relax. That'll make it more fun. Then no one will know who's who," Chris smirked. "People already have a hard time telling us apart," Matt rolled his eyes.

"What are you going as?" Nick asked you, ignoring his brothers. "Well, I'm going to be the only one out of the four of us who isn't going as a Scream character. But it's going to be a surprise," you told them, wandering over towards a giant cauldron that caught your eye.

"What are you going to use that for?" Matt asked. "Punch bowl! Isn't it perfect?" You asked, picking it up and cradling it in your arms as the four of you continued through the store. "Can you at least give us a hint about what you're going to dress up as?" Chris playfully poked you in the side.

"All I can tell you is, it's gonna be sexy, and you're gonna thank God when you see me in it. I'm trying to get laid tonight," you proudly stated as the four of you headed over to the checkout counter to pay.

Nick, Matt, and Chris dropped you back off at your place, which was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could finish setting up, and so they could change into their costumes. You thought it was fitting you lived in a secluded part of your town's national forest and didn't have any neighbors for miles.

You'd just finished putting out the last of the decorum when people started trickling in. You had fake spiderwebs strewn in every corner, a smoke machine, and a black light.

You were just thinking about how excited you were for the boys to see you in your glowing slutty nun outfit when the doorbell rang, and as you pulled open your creaky front door, you saw Nick covered in fake blood accompanied by a pair of Ghostfaces, the whites of their masks lit up by the black light. "Look at you!" Nick gasped as you gave them a twirl. Chris and Matt's eyes were immediately drawn to your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me!" You jokingly shrieked, placing your hands on your cheeks and making a fake surprised face. "You look really good," one of them said to you. "So do you guys," you seductively replied, nibbling on your lower lip and looking at the three of them, but especially Matt and Chris. You had a bit of a thing for masked men.

They shuffled into your house, admiring the way you had decorated. More guests started arriving, and the party started to really take off. Nick started hitting it off with a guy you worked with who was dressed as a skeleton, which left you, Matt, and Chris alone.

"You guys wanna scare Nick tonight?" Matt asked menacingly, tilting his head in his ghostface mask, which had no business being as hot as it was. You bit your lip at him.

Chris could tell you were entranced by the costume. "Like the mask, sweetheart?" Chris asked in a deep, menacingly voice that was strikingly familiar to that of the original Ghostface, taking his 'prop' weapon and running the edge along your cheek, but the metal was sharp and cold. "Shut the fuck up. Oh my god, is that a real knife?" You asked him, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Yeah, why does that scare you? Or do you like it?" Chris said in a spooky voice. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Neither. You guys are so immature. Have fun scaring Nick. I'm gonna go enjoy my party and try to find someone to hook up with. Try not to cut anyone with that thing."

You rolled your eyes at them and pushed past them, trying to hide the effect they were having on you. Both sets of eyes traveled to your ass as you walked away. "Why don't we play a prank on her instead?" Matt inquired. "Yeah, she could use a little loosening up," Chris responded.

You couldn't deny that the way Chris had put that blade up to your cheek while he was dressed like that was having a rather strong effect on you, an effect so strong that you desperately wanted to turn back around, grab them by their solid black robes, and beg them both to rail you while they wore their Ghostface attire.

You'd always found them both attractive, but they were your good friends, and most nights that the sexual thoughts about them creeped into your psyche, you were able to will it away, or something you'd never admit out loud to - sometimes you'd just take care of the aching between your legs really quickly, and the thoughts would usually dissipate on their own, but tonight was different.

You could feel a damp warmth between your thighs as you sauntered off in another direction to greet some of your other friends, but even as you asked them how the party was and tried to get your mind off of the Sturniolo boys, you found yourself peeking over your shoulder, stealing glances at them, and losing your inner battle with yourself to fight off your urges.

It had been so long, and you were so horny.

"I think that guy over there is checking you out," your friend who had animals ears on nudged you and glanced off in the direction of the punch bowl you'd bought earlier. Your eye caught a tall man with zombie makeup on that you didn't recognize grabbing himself a cup of spiked punch, his gaze flicking up at you every few seconds. You thought he was kind of cute.

"Go talk to him," your friend urged you, lovingly squeezing your arm. You took one more glance in the direction of where Matt and Chris had been standing just moments ago, seriously considering trying to pursue one of them instead, but when your eyes scanned over the crowd, you didn't see either one of them. You'd missed your chance.

"Okay, fine," you whispered to your friend, rolling your eyes and working up the courage to approach him. You took a deep breath and headed in his direction.

"Hey, do I know you?" You asked, grabbing yourself a red solo cup and serving yourself some alcoholic punch. "You know, some would say your costume is offensive," he said, ignoring your question and motioning towards your exposed breasts in your very ungodly outfit.

"Then why don't you rip it off of me?" You flirtatiously shot back. He looked unamused with you.

"Hey, so, what's the deal with your friend?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink and his gaze looking past you to where you were previously standing. "Oh, my friend," you said in a slightly disappointed tone, realizing you'd just approached and been very forward with a man who had been interested in the girl standing next to you the whole time.

You started back off in the direction you came from, and your friend glanced over at the embarrassment in your expression. "What happened? Was he a dick to you?" She asked, concern in her eyes while she cradled your face. You could understand why he was looking at her instead of you.

"No, nothing like that. If you think he's cute, you should go talk to him. I'll be right back," you responded, feeling your face get hot. You pushed past a crowd of people to get to the bottom of your staircase, and you hurried up the steps before your tears could fall.

It wasn't so much that you were upset about not getting the guy. You weren't even that interested in him. It was a combination of a few things, really.

It was the humiliation of misreading the situation, the insecurity you felt about not being as pretty as your friends, and the constant self-doubt you had about whether you really were a slut like everyone called you and if any guy would ever want you again because of it.

Through your teary vision, your bedroom door caught your eye. You stopped dead in your tracks, sniffling and wiping away your tears as alarm bells went off in your nervous system.

Your bedroom door was wide open, and you swore you'd shut it before the first few guests had arrived. You walked through the door frame cautiously, overwhelmed by a sensation of having eyes on you, studying your surroundings to see if anything else was out of place.

You shrugged off the feeling of being watched, chalking it up to the fact that it was Halloween, and you had been watching a lot of thriller and horror movies in the couple weeks leading up to your party.

You made your way over to the bathroom sink, setting down your red solo cup on the cold countertop and peering at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't want to spend Halloween night sulking in your bathroom while your two hot best friends were downstairs, strutting around in their sexy Ghostface attire and probably finding other girls to sleep with.

You cleaned off the eyeliner that was smudging on your bottom eyelid, glued the corner of your eyelash back down, and readjusted your breasts in your costume.

After fixing the imperfections with your wardrobe, you decided you weren't going to let the night end without taking a stab at trying to have sex with whichever one of the Sturniolo brothers you saw first, excluding Nick of course. You were done pretending like you weren't completely taken with them.

Your gaze flickered over to the reflection of your partially open closet door in the mirror. Again, you could have sworn you'd left it closed. Filled with dread, you slowly tiptoed out of the bathroom, past your bed, and over to your closet. You rested your hand on the round, metal door knob and slowly pushed it shut.

You realized how ridiculous you were being, rolling your eyes at yourself and letting out a sigh at how jumpy you'd been lately. You turned back around and started to head out of your bedroom when all of a sudden, you heard the sound of the closet door creaking open again.

Before you could spin yourself around and identify the threat, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and a cold, sharp blade resting against your neck. "What's your favorite scary movie?" The way his voice came through sounding just like Ghostface had you both scared and turned on.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out an audible moan against his palm, causing him to pull his hand back. "What was that?" Chris accusingly asked, speaking like himself again. "What the fuck? How do you make your voice sound like that?" You asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled in your ear, avoiding your inquiry. "Answer me first. What was that sound you just made?" Chris posed the question again. "Nothing. Real funny, Chris. Let me go," you responded.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your eye as Matt walked around in his Ghostface costume, shutting your bedroom door closed. Your heart dropped as you watched him lock it and make his way back over to you. "Let you go? Are you sure you want that?" Matt cooed, running the back of his gloved hand along your cheek and tilting his head down at you. You gulped.

"Is this turning you on?" Chris whispered into your ear. "Gross," you rolled your eyes. "Only one way to find out," Matt menacingly replied. "Why don't you check her, Matt?" Chris smirked under his mask.

Your mouth fell open, and a strangled whimper came through as Matt reached between your legs, lifting up your skirt and slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Immediately, he felt the wetness leak through his glove.

"Oh, she's soaked. Her clit practically has its own heartbeat," Matt relayed to his brother, drawing circles on it with his fingers and talking about you as if you weren't in the room with them. "I bet she'd like it if we took care of that. Don't you think?" Chris wondered, dragging the blade across your collar bone and between your partially exposed breasts.

You couldn't hold back your delighted sounds as they both put their hands on you. It was like a dream come true. Your prayers had been answered. You'd fantasized about them each separately, but the idea of having them both take you on at the same time didn't even seem like an option until now.

"What's turning you on so much? The mask? The knife? The fact that it's me and Matt?" Chris cooed at you, pulling your top down to reveal your tits. He took the knife and started running the sharp edge against your nipples that stiffened at the touch. You immediately shuddered and let out a whimper.

"All of it?" Matt wondered, continuing to play with your pussy that was becoming wetter by the second. "Answer him, slut. What's got you all wet, hmm?" Chris growled into your ear. Of course, it hurt your feelings to be called that, but there was something about the way Chris said it so endearingly that it didn't seem like he was trying to do anything other than turn you on, and it was working.

"Nothing, it's completely unrelated," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan, but your attempts failed, and your head fell back against Chris' chest. You felt his hard cock against your backside, and it twitched at the way you struggled to keep yourself composed. "Yeah, mine's unrelated, too," Chris replied sarcastically, staring down at your tits as he continued to tease them with his knife.

You felt Matt's fingers slip into your hole as he started to fuck you with them. "You want us to stop?" Matt asked. You nibbled on your lip and softly shook your head no. "That's what I thought. She's such a little slut," Chris said to his brother. "Don't you know it's always the slut who dies first?" Chris rasped into your ear.

"Oh, she likes that," Matt cooed, feeling your pussy start to throb around his fingers. You tried to hide your reactions, but your body language couldn't keep your secret from the two pairs of Ghostfaces who manhandled you.

"You still never told us your favorite scary movie," Chris pointed out. "Blair Witch Project," you hesitantly answered. "Mmm. That's a scary one. Especially when you live out here," Matt replied. Chris leaned over to Matt and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out.

"Lay on the fucking bed, slut," Chris responded as they both let you go. "We're gonna go have a little chat in the other room, and you're gonna lay right here and behave," Matt ordered you. "And if you try to run, you're gonna be really sorry," Chris said, waving the knife in your direction.

They both disappeared behind your bathroom door. You heard the sound of Chris and Matt arguing behind the wooden barrier about who was going to have their way with you first, but you had another idea.

When they both emerged from the bathroom, you were gone, and on your nightstand was a note that read: "come find me in the woods, mr. ghostface. xoxo, your prey" with a heart drawn below the lettering.

"Oh, that sneaky bitch thinks she can be in charge of her own fate. We're gonna have fun with her tonight," Chris told Matt as he picked up the note.

They both disappeared out of the room, down the stairs, and out the backdoor towards the dense treeline behind your house with a flashlight Matt had snagged off your kitchen counter.

All they had to do was listen quietly for a few minutes beneath the blanket of stars and clouds, and then they heard you, crushing twigs and leaves under your weight as you tried to stealthily make your way through the forest.

All of a sudden, you were lit up by the flashlight Matt held in hands. "Gotcha," he said in a menacing voice. You froze and stared at them both, unable to move a muscle. "Think you're so slick, huh?" Chris asked in a low, sexy rasp.

"You know what would make this so much more fun? If she had to guess who's who while we take turns fucking her," Matt suggested, taking a few steps towards you. "And if she guesses wrong, we'll make her bleed," Chris laughed, closing in on you as well.

You'd never seen this side of the two brothers, but it excited you more than you were willing to admit.

You started slowly walking backward until you backed into a tree, and you swallowed hard as you felt its rough trunk under your palms, realizing you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Spare me!" You whined, but you couldn't hold back your smirk as Matt pulled the knife out of his robe and cut your costume from your body. You gasped as the fabric fell the floor in front of your feet. You'd never imagined your night would go like this. In fact, this was hotter than anything you could have ever dreamt up.

"We told you that you'd regret running." It was that same ominous, threatening, and sexy voice that Chris had used earlier in the night, so that must have been him. "I thought we told you to behave," said the other, sounding just like the first one. Fuck, you thought.

You watched as the boy with the knife started to cut a hole in his robe, and your eyes widened, and your jaw fell open as you realized what he was doing. You watched as his dick poked through the black fabric, staring you down. He handed off the knife to his brother.

"Since you like to run, one of us is going to have to hold you still," the second one said pinning your wrists above your head with one hand with the other, he held the blade up in front of your face. You saw yourself in the reflection of the sharp metal accompanied by the man in the Ghostface mask beside you, and it sent goosebumps across your flesh.

He closed the distance between the weapon and your breasts, and he started tracing your nipples again with the knife's edge. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened. You peered at the boy who was settling between your legs, grabbing ahold of his big, veiny cock with his gloved hand as he started pumping it back and forth a few times, making sure it had reached its full potential.

He hiked up your leg, wrapped your thigh around his waist, and pulled your panties to the side before sinking it into your heat and stretching you out. "So tight," he groaned deeply, feeling the way you gripped his dick. You let out a few loud moans as you adjusted to his size, taking every inch of him.

"That's it. Take it like the slut you are," he gruffed, picking up the pace and wrapping his gloved fingers around your neck. "Like that?" The boy who was holding your wrists cooed as he dragged the sharp object across to your other peak.

You loved the way both Ghostface masks reflected your fear back at you as well as your pleasure, their empty eyes, and their contorted mouths, taunting you. You glanced back at the brother who was between your legs, focusing on his thrusts. His fast and powerful thrusts.

Every time he bottomed out in you, a desperate mewl escaped your lips, filling the atmosphere. The masked man started to mimick the sounds that poured from your mouth while his brother fucked you, and you adored every second of it.

You loved the way they were feeding your sick fantasies, holding you at knife point, wearing their sexy costumes, and fucking you dumb while they degraded you. Your sounds became louder, more urgent, and less inhibited. You could feel the intensity building.

"Scream for me, bitch," the man between your legs chuckled. His mean words, his hand around your throat, the movement of his hips, and the cold, sharp metal dancing across your skin were enough to cause you to snap.

You hit the point of no return, clenching around the mystery man's rod, sending him to the same fate shortly after. You could feel his twitching cock filling you up as your orgasm took its course, the two of you moaning in unison while you finished together. Your legs grew weak as you came.

"Oh my god, Chris. Matt. Whoever you are," you breathlessly panted. You thought for sure you'd be able to tell them apart by now, but you had no idea, and you found it all the more enticing.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, slowing down his thrusts, pulling out, and watching his seed flow out of you. He stared down in awe at the mess he made, taking in the sight and savoring it while his breathing pattern returned to normal.

"I've been waiting for this," the boy to your left said as he switched places with his brother. He took the knife, hooking it into your panties and slicing the delicate material, watching the fabric fall to the ground and revealing your pretty pussy to him.

Then he cut a hole in his robe like his brother had done, and you peered down at his gorgeous cock poking through the tear in the material.

He roughly pried open your legs, guiding them open with the blade. He dug into the inside of your right thigh with his gloved hand and rested the knife on your lower stomach. You couldn't keep yourself from admiring his big, throbbing dick, and you sharply inhaled as you felt him slip his tip into your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he bucked his hips forward, his entire length vanisihing into your tight hole. Your eyes flicked back up to his Ghostface attire, taking in the incredible view of being fucked by a man in such a sexy mask.

The man beside you restrained your wrists, pinning them above your head again. "Alright. Time to guess. Who am I?" The boy beside you asked in his creepy Ghostface voice, tilting his head at you as he tightened his grip. You innocently peered up at his mask, searching for some kind of hint in his demeanor.

"Chris, is that you?" You asked uncertaintly. "Wrong. Remember what happens when you guess wrong?" Matt cooed, running his gloved finger along the underside of your chin. Your eyes were glazing over, your lips fell open, and your cheeks were flushed.

Chris applied more pressure to the knife, running the blade along your lower stomach and drawing blood. You let out a satisfied whine as you felt the release of the knife cutting you. The warm, sticky red fluid glistened in the moonlight as it slowly dripped down your abdomen.

"So pretty," Matt whispered, brushing your messy hair out of your face and his eyes dancing between your desperate expression and the way the blood looked so beautiful on your skin. Moans began pouring from you again as Chris fucked you senseless up against the tree.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Harder," you begged, your eyes lazily rolling back into your head as your breasts bounced to the cadence of his thrusts. "Cock dumb little slut," Chris menacingly chuckled at your pathetic pleading, but he still gave you what you so enthusiastically craved, relishing in your desperation for him.

You loved feeling helpless and giving yourself over so willingly to both brothers as they used you for their own pleasure. Your whimpers became louder and fuller as you neared your tipping point again.

"Harder," you cried out again before your orgasm took over. Your gaze danced between both of their masks, and your pussy started rhythmically throbbing around Chris' cock as he delivered a few more monumental strokes. You felt a wonderful, relieved feeling in the pit of your stomach as you came unraveled under the control of both boys.

Your brows pinched together, your knees weakened, and your stare began to lose its focus until you couldn't concentrate on anything except for the pure pleasure and ecstasy coursing through you. You were pumped full of Chris' cum as his cock twitched inside of you, and as you came down from your intense adrenaline rush, you felt all your muscles relax.

Both men chuckled, removing their masks and revealing their identities to you. Sure enough, you had guessed wrong. Chris leaned in and chuckled into your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You may have guessed wrong, but we're going to spare you. You're worth way more to us alive than dead."

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #ghostface!matt #ghostface!chris

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rileyslibrary · 1 year ago

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Penny for your thoughts

Synopsis: You’ve recently been transferred to a UK base and struggle with British currency. Your lieutenant is mortified—and rightfully so.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,286 (approx. 5-6 mins reading time)

Notes:

I thought it was funny when I wrote it, okay? It’s a crackfic. There’s some teasing and playful banter in there, but I can’t label it as fluff.

Warnings: Profanity. Lots of it.

More A/N at the end.

———————————————————————

You’ve been trying to escape the lieutenant’s grip for the past two hours.

The upcoming mission requires close combat skills, he said. You’ll need to infiltrate a facility with minimum weapons and immobilise—but not kill—the targets for interrogation.

You admitted to him that you hadn’t practised in a long time and your combat skills were a little rusty. But Ghost assured you this wouldn’t be a problem and offered a refresher course in ground fighting and submission techniques.

You never imagined this would be an issue when you agreed to it. On the contrary, your lieutenant was an expert in combat, and training with him could be considered a masterclass.

Looking at it now, with your cheek pressed against the floor and your body twisted like a nautical knot, you wish you could take it back.

The mats have become your second skin. Ghost relentlessly pins you to the ground and immobilises your limbs while explaining the mechanics behind each hold. Sometimes you wonder why he gets into so much detail since you can’t hear shit and are practically knocked out.

Yet, he doesn’t give up on you. He advises you to feel the weight shift, urging you to exploit the slightest openings, encouraging you to break free. Whenever he sees you’re struggling or senses you’re uncertain, he taps your hand or leg, giving you clues to help you.

He immobilises you once more, but he pats your back this time.

“Alright,” he says, standing up, “that’s enough for today.”

He walks to the bench, picks up his towel, and pats his neck. You roll on your back and spread your arms.

“I feel like a pretzel.” You whisper.

“Yup,” he confirms, “that’s Jiu-Jitsu for ya.”

Drenched in sweat, you push yourself off the ground and slowly walk to your bag. You extract your towel and begin rummaging through your wallet to find spare coins for a water bottle. You manage to find one pound, but unfortunately, you fall short.

“Lt.?” You call out.

He turns halfway to give you his attention while tugging the velcro straps from his gloves.

“Do you have fifty pennises?”

He stops midway and lets go of the velcro strap. It can wait. His eyes have formed two thin lines, and his eyebrows almost touch each other.

“Do I have fifty what, soldier?”

“I need fifty pennises.” You reply, this time louder, “Do you have fifty pennises?”

His eyes have changed. They’re not squinting anymore. They are bulging. He frantically looks left and right, bringing his index finger to his mouth.

“Shhhh!” He whispers and runs towards you, waving his other hand in front of your face. “Shut your mouth!”

He closes the distance between you and looks behind him.

“What is wrong with you?” He whispers.

You raise your eyebrows and blink rapidly.

“No,” you reply, “what is wrong with you?”

He lets out a sigh and looks at his surroundings once again. He scratches the side of his chin and clasps his hands in prayer.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he requests more calmly this time, almost begging you, “Make a sentence out of it.”

“I’m thirsty.” You explain.

“Obviously.”

He’s starting to get on your nerves. You open your palm and raise it to his eye level.

“Look,” you order and point at the coin, “I have one pound.”

“I can see that.” He replies and puts his hand on yours, pushing it down so he can look at you.

“The vending machine needs one pound and a half.”

“Say it.” He commands and swallows hard, “The vending machine needs one pound and fifty...”

You clench your jaw and look at him dead in the eyes.

“Pennises.”

He lets out a snort and clasps his hand at the bridge of his nose. He turns his back to you and takes a few steps away. His shoulders move up and down.

“Ah, soldier,” he replies, still looking the other way. “that’s a lot of pennises.”

You run a hand through your hair and sigh.

“I know my pronunciation is probably wrong,” you state and shut your eyes, “but I need them.”

“Don’t say that,” he says between gasps, “you don’t need that many.”

With your eyes still closed, you start babbling about how wrong he is and how you wish you had a million of them so you could escape this hellhole and retire on an island. He squats to the ground and covers his masked face with his hands.

He sounds like he’s whimpering. You might have assumed he was sobbing if you hadn’t known the cause of his stance. But you knew why he was half crying, half laughing. It sounded hideous. It was hideous. You just can’t remember the word.

What’s it called, what’s it called...

You open your eyes. Ghost is walking towards you, wiping away tears from his eyes. He retrieves a fist of coins from his pocket and, muttering something under his breath, chooses two. He pinches a silver hexagonal-shaped coin with his fingers and shows it to you.

“This,” he says, “is fifty pence, or 50p.”

“Pence or p.” You repeat.

“That’s right.” He confirms and pinches a smaller coin with his other hand. “Now, this little one is a penny. Fifty of these are called fifty pennies.”

“Pennies,” you echo and slap your thighs, “See? Was it that hard to explain?”

“Oh yes,” he replies and nods slowly, “yes, it was that fucking hard.”

You lift your palm. “Can I have the big one?” You ask.

“Say it first.” He commands you.

You roll your eyes. “Can I have the 50p, Lt.?”

“Of course, you may have the 50p.” He says and places the coin in your hand, “What you absolutely may not have is fifty….” He stops and lets a repressed chuckle out.

You press your lips together and bite your cheek to not respond to his teasing. But you can’t.

“…pennises, I presume?” You sneer.

“Yeah, no.” He says and vigorously shakes his head, “You don’t want that.”

You wince and rub the back of your neck. Ghost tries to comfort you, telling you it’s ok and you shouldn’t feel bad, but he doesn’t believe it himself. He’s smiling beneath that mask; you can tell by how the grimace alters his voice. You thank him for the coin and walk to the vending machine.

“Soldier,” he calls out, “how many times have you said that word since you came to the UK?”

You tilt your head and try to recall.

“I can’t remember.” You conclude.

“You can’t remember if you ever said it, or there were so many occasions that you can’t count them?” He asks with a trembling voice.

“No, Lt.,” you reply, defeated, “I don’t remember asking another person for that.”

He looks relieved. He lets out a long exhale and rubs his masked face with his palms.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” he says, “but I’m glad I was the first one.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I wrote this in March, along with this story (yes, they’re very similar). Although I liked the idea and thought it was funny, I initially discarded it because it felt stupid, and chose to post the other one (not like the other one is pure genius). It remains as such, but as I said, it’s a crackfic. I’m not researching how to improve human welfare.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost cod mwii #ghost call of duty

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

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The Machinist 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your forehead pinches and your eyes singe. Your brows dip as you focus on your tasks, your hands firm on the small cylinder as you smooth the edge. Your work is tedious and precise, but you work off muscle memory. It all comes naturally.

You lean in as you finish off the small piece, slowly pulling it away from the spinning wheel. You hit the stop and admire your handiwork briefly and label it before putting the piece aside in its coordinated container. You keep your space as tidy as you can, as organized as possible to avoid anything missing or overlooked.

You lean on the tall stool you never use; it’s too high and this job isn’t really made for sitting. You take off your safety glasses and pull the bandana down from over your hairline to sop up your sweat. Your shoulders are tight and sore and your lower back tugs from your half-bent posture.

You fix your bandana and near the work table again. Your old station was too high and now this one somehow is too low. It’s like a cruel trick.

You pull the next blueprint up on the screen, clacking on the keys to zoom. It’s simple. You’re sent the schematics and you make whatever’s needed. It is a less than exciting job but it pays the bills.

As you put your materials out in front of you and ready the borer, the noise of the factory forms a calamitous wall around you. You’ve learned to tune it out, you hardly notice when Bill swears at his lathe or Joe and Sakir argue over one thing or another. You keep to your work. You keep to yourself.

Before you can start your next job, you sense a shift in the air. Voices quiet, machines slow and some stop. You peer over but can’t see much from your vantage in the corner. You claimed the station even though the air flow is crap. You prefer that you’re not center among the chaos.

You begin by shaping the steel into a flat circle, then bore a hole in the middle. You’re going to have to be careful with how thin the sheet is but any thicker and it will impinge the hinge in the blueprint. You’ll have to make that too.

The odd lull seems to flow across the factory floor like a tide. You peer up only as the air seems to stagnate. You see a man approaching. You don’t recognise him but he’s not very much different than most men you work with; ball cap, plaid shirt, that overly macho stance.

Unlike most factory men, he isn’t built like a noodle or with an extra pouch around his middle. He’s tall and lumbering and his shoulders broad. Across his upper lip, he sports a dark mustache, and his blue are somehow bright and dark at once.

“Hello,” he approaches as his bold tone rolls like thunder, “machinist?”

Your brows knot together curiously as you shut off the borer and set aside the parts. You turn to him completely, “yes.”

“Ah,” he reaches into the bin and takes out the cylinder you just finished, “fine work. Detailed. The labeling is clever.”

You’re wary. You’re used to the men talking down to you. It’s not that unusual but something about him is loftier than you’re used too.

“Engineer?” You wonder. He has to be. Their degrees seem to overload their egos in a certain kind of way.

“Supervisor,” he puts the part back in the green container, “first day. Did you not receive the notice?”

“I did,” you assure him. You read the notice on the lunchroom wall but it didn’t matter much to you. He isn’t the first replacement to pass through the position, especially since the buyout.

“August Walker,” he offers his large hand.

You eye it and reach with your glove, mindless of the darkened fabric, and dully recite your name. He squeezes, in the way that men do, trying to prove their strength. You simply allow him his little display before rescinding your hand.

“How long have you worked here?” He asks.

You look around. You notice Bill watching and a few others trying to act like they aren’t. You know what they’re thinking. If fat needs to be trimmed, naturally it should be the girl.

“Three years,” you answer.

“Really? Work like this, I’d have guessed longer,” he muses, “by looking at you, though, I might have guessed you just started.”

“Mm,” you grumble and turn back to your parts.

“Compliment,” he says bluntly.

“Right,” you utter. “Got work orders.”

“So, you do,” he agrees, “but I’m your boss.”

You hesitate and pull your hands back from the table. You face him again as he stands on the other side of the table’s arm. You step up to your side and look up at him.

“Is there something I missed? A task I should focus on first, sir?” You ask.

He snorts and one side of his mouth lifts up in amusement, “not much for water cooler talk, huh?”

“With due respect, I’m on the clock.”

"Due respect," he echoes.

His eyes flick up and down and you withhold your discomfort. It isn’t unusual. Your coworkers are more often in miserable marriages or eternally single. They all can’t help but ogle you now and again, even if you dress exactly like them. Nothing special. Not the girls at the bar or the wives they once loved.

“Well then, maybe I’ll run into in the lunchroom and you can tell me all about yourself,” he plants his hands on the table and leans over just slightly, “I’m dying to know how someone like you ended up in a place like this.”

You tweak a brow and cross your arms. Right. He’s one of those. Just like the rest of them. This isn’t your place, you’re an intruder.

“I mean, why would you come here and sweat over all this dirty work when you could be put up in a kitchen, huh?” He wonders with a smirk, “but I’ve seen the men around here, none of them got the guts to put you where you belong.”

Your chest rises and falls as a swell of anger comes over you. You know the best way to react is not to. So, you don’t.

“Sir, I’m right at home right here,” you assure him and turn back to your station.

You ignore him as you adjust your glasses and adjust a setting on the lather. What you wouldn’t do to put his face to the grinder. He isn’t worth the damage his thick skull would do to the wheel.

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #drabble #series #the machinist #au #factory au #mission impossible: fallout

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shivshaktimachtech · 2 months ago

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Hair Oil Bottle Double Side Labeling Machine Manufacturer - Shiv Shakti Machtech

Hair Oil Bottle Double Side Labeling Machine

#manufacturer #labeling machine #double side labeling machine #front and back labeling machine #labeler #hair oil bottle labeler #labeling solutions #packaging machine

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pricegouge · 2 months ago

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cw: fat femme reader. shitty tinder dates. alcohol mentioned but not consumed. that's it. written on my lunch break and unedited so mind the mess

divider by @/cafekitsune | taglist @pricegouged

You're on your second drink when you swear off dating apps altogether.

Dylan - fine, normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill Dylan - had exposed himself fairly early as too fine and normal, and therefore boring, which wouldn't have been too big a problem if he hadn't also been leaning further and further into the asshole category with each passing minute.

The snide little comment about your weight would be enough to send you packing early under any normal circumstances, except you'd been an idiot who'd let him pick you up so you needed a ride home, and why pay for an Uber when you can be mean right back?

It takes you a moment to arrive at that conclusion, though, stopping mid sip of your water to arch your eyebrows at this pathetic little thing before you with enough force to have him backpedaling. You watch him flounder for a moment, considering your options, not listening at all as he tries to clarify that he's 'into it, though - big girls, that is'.

You roll your eyes away from him, pretend to watch the highlight reel of last night's match from where it plays on the outdated CRT in the corner. It's not even a good place for a date, really, a self-serve popcorn machine in the corner offering pre-fingered snacks and a low liquor shelf behind the bar suggesting you'd best be thirsty for something with no more than three ingredients. You're not exactly the snooty type, but you suddenly realize you should maybe learn to know your worth better because you cannot ever sit across the table from someone who's read The Game ever again. One more time might kill you, funeral expenses legally billable to Neil Strauss and everything.

Except your new standards will have to be enacted in the morning because you suddenly refuse to spend a fucking dime on this terrible outing.

Dylan still looks slightly panicked when you turn back to him with a shy little affected smile and a demure batting of your eyelashes. You watch in real time as his expression shifts from pure panic at a gamble ventured and lost, to surprised delight when he thinks it's paying off. You let him keep thinking that, draw quiet and reserved the more dinner draws on though jokes on you there, because that just means you have to hear him talk more and it's a struggle to pretend you don't find the damn coasters more interesting than him at this point.

(They're cardboard and growing waterlogged from condensation, the local brewery's logo becoming easily peelable. It's become your mission to get a clean pull by the end of his long winded ramble, though he's so invested in hearing himself talk that you surpass your goal twice, peeling both the front and back off the coaster and sticking the limp paper to your glass, pressing out air bubbles with your fingers like you're carefully applying proper labeling. He doesn't stop talking until your glass is labeled front and back, real professional.)

When he asks if you're ready to go you perk up like a dog hearing its favorite word. You wanna go for a ride? Hm? You ready to go home, girl? Your nod is bobble-headed, eager. You let him misread it because you're an asshole and because you did say in your profile that you weren't looking for hookups so really it's his own fault if he blue balls himself.

The ride back is short, easy. You don't know if it's better or worse that he doesn't bother flirting with you here or test your expectations with a cheeky little hand on your thigh. Instead, his grip remains carefully at ten and two and you're grateful he's not touching you, really, but you know what he expects from you in a matter of mere moments, hours, whatever, and it pisses you off that he doesn't even bother warming you up to the idea by grabbing a feel of those 'big thighs' he's 'into.' So you let yourself stew, fuel for the fire, and you fiddle with his heat controls just because you can.

If he was so dead set on ending this night all hot and wet, you could help him with that at least.

Sweat beads at Dylan's temple when he pulls into the intricate webbing of drives which make up your apartment complex. It's a nice enough place, one you can only afford with the help of one too many roommates. The steep rent is worth it though for nights like tonight, when apprehension begins to pool in your belly as you try to steel yourself for the small confrontation you're about to initiate. Dylan may have been a little weasel but he wasn't exactly contentious so you're not expecting anything too major to come of this, but it's reassuring to see so many people still out and about enjoying the cool fall evening. It's still fairly early, mothers only just heading back from the park with their double wide buggies taking up half the drive. They shoot Dylan ugly looks as he passes, just a hair too fast for their unofficial neighborhood watch. At least you know they'll be on your side if he really starts to act up.

Dylan does not need reminding which specific branches lead to your building, rolling to a stop next to your own car which you try not to look at with any familiarity. You may have already made the mistake of giving him your address, but every morsel of information he might glean about you now feels like a theft, and even what you had for breakfast is suddenly a dark secret you'd like to keep from him for no real reason.

It's hard looking at Dylan now too, the shyness you'd been playing up before all of a sudden a very real obstacle as your eyes wander your building's facade, as if even you aren't certain which bay window is yours. Your lights are all off, you note with some annoyance, your roommates not home despite the fact they said they would be.

'Up all night waiting for you,' Carren had winked, her big cheeky smile something you've never had cause to mistrust before. You gotta work on your naivete.

Your eyes keep moving, resolved not to give away even your apartment number by being too obvious. They catch on the patio next door, however, when you spot your neighbor Kyle sitting on his Adirondack chair, smoking a cigarette as he watches this new car pointedly, doing nothing to hide his curiosity.

If you had been smart you would've told Dylan to pick you up a few buildings down so he wouldn't even have the proper section, but the relief you feel at seeing your sweet, hot, extremely fit neighbor outside playing guard dog more than makes up for your mistake. So much so that your fingers don't falter when they find the handle, emergency release ready to be disengaged. You turn back to Dylan with a too-sweet smile and thank him for dinner again, already leaning out the door when he stutters something about having a good time.

"Yeah, me too," you call over your shoulder, beelining it for Kyle's patio because you've had enough drinks in that vacant chair across from him to know you're always welcome, especially in a situation like this. Sure enough, Kyle perks up when he sees it's you climbing out of the strange car, and then furrows his brow over your shoulder when you hear Dylan climbing out after you. Some snivelly little creature you've been trying to kill since you turned eighteen holds the reins when you turn back to him despite your better instincts, your need to avoid a scene outweighing everything else in that moment.

Your date's facade is visibly crumbling now, his frustration obvious in the set of his jaw and the sweat at his temples. You wonder if perhaps the thermostat had been a bit much and then immediately decide you don't care when he stammers something about maybe coming in for a glass of something nicer than what the restaurant had to offer.

Presumptuous. "I don't," you blurt, only continuing when he blinks at you in confusion, "drink anything nice, that is." Across the lawn, you think you hear Kyle snort.

"Uh… coffee?" Dylan asks, just as stubborn as you.

"Gave up caffeine," you lie, trying not to think about the lovely mocha creation Kyle will likely offer you momentarily when you tell him you've got a splitting headache.

To his credit, Dylan doesn't quite pout. "Right. Well. Do this again sometime?"

And you're already on a roll with the lies so you just carry right on with them, chirping out a high, "Sure!" before trying to turn on your heel.

But you're out of niceties when a firm grip on your shoulder keeps you in place, Dylan's scraggly mustache looming into your space as you watch his lips pucker in horror.

"Oh I'm good, thanks!" you squeak, yanking yourself out of his grip. A laugh bubbles out of you afterward, uncomfortable but still amused by your own reaction. Your satisfaction only grows when Dylan begins to look genuinely pissy. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid but you're past the point of caring.

"Is that it, then?" Dylan huffs, taking a daring step forward.

You slide back, lock step. "'Fraid so."

"Even after I bought you dinner?"

"And made me feel bad about eating it?" You scoff. "Yeah."

"I drove all the way out from -."

"What's all this?"

You're not sure who jumps more at Kyle's sudden appearance. He hovers by your shoulder, a silent type of fury pulling at his pretty face. You forget sometimes he's military, his general geniality always setting you at ease. It makes this new version of him all the more frightening, a lethal force sitting pretty at your side.

This is what makes the rent worth it, honestly.

"Kyle, this is Dylan. My date for the night."

Kyle hums, clearly unconcerned with the specifics. "Well, night's over."

You smirk up at where the sun still lingers over the horizon, pale behind its cloudy cover but present all the same. "Indeed."

"Piss off, mate," Dylan tries, his voice sterner than you'd originally given him credit for.

You raise your brow at him but Kyle doesn't even bother. He turns to you and smiles, eyes crinkling around the corners, much too tight to be natural. "Luvie, will you go get us some drinks? Sliding door's unlocked."

Part of you rankles at the dismissal, but a bigger part of you does indeed want to be done with this horrible man so you nod, wave a sarcastic two finger salute at Dylan and finally make your way back across the lawn, slipping into Kyle's warm and cozy apartment with a sigh of relief.

For all the friendly patio drinks you've had with him since moving in, you've never actually stepped foot in Kyle's place. You take a moment to admire it, noting the cleanliness and a tidiness which undeniably spoke of a military career. Still, small concessions to his personality dotted the walls and surfaces. A fresh laundry scented candle, a stack of blu-rays, framed pictures of people you've never met all grinning happily. You spot Kyle's same smile reflected back at you from all these different faces, his entire family evidently blessed with that thousand watt grin and you wonder how one camera could sustain all those lumens being beamed at it.

The layout matches yours, simply reflected. You find the kitchen easily, again noting the cleanliness with a nod of approval. Someday he'd retire and settle down, make someone extremely happy. You could only hope you would be long gone by then because the jealousy might truly drive you to desperate measures. Like taking Tinder back up again, for example. The notion draws you to the kitchen window, quest for beverages all but forgotten when you see Kyle leaning over Dylan's shoulder as the latter man flips through his phone. You frown in confusion, drawing closer to the window as Kyle reaches out and starts poking around your date's phone on his own. It's cracked open, crisp fall breeze whistling through. It drowns out the noise of the conversation but you try anyway, ears straining for any word whispered between the two. A moment passes, another. Dylan becomes increasingly agitated while Kyle stays the picture of controlled severity. You don't hear either of them at all until Kyle's eyes dart to the apartment, finding yours instantly. You gulp, feeling as if you've been caught despite not actually doing anything wrong anyway, and suddenly Kyle's veneer breaks like a thunder cloud. He claps Dylan on the shoulder heavily, turning his beaming smile on the smaller man and calling him a good lad.

Dylan mutters something indiscernible and turns back towards his car, resolutely ignoring as Kyle calls out overly friendly farewells. The engine rips to life, a low growl which suggests it's in dire need of an oil change. Still, it bravely fires up and carries Dylan away, Kyle turning back to you with a roll of his eyes which seemed to say 'this fuckin' guy.'

You grin at him, rolling your eyes right back before ducking your head, suddenly bashful under your neighbor's full attention. Drinks forgotten, you meet him at the door and thank him profusely, ignoring the way he tries to wave it off as if it was nothing,

"No, seriously, Kyle, that was very much appreciated. Probably not necessary but appreciated anyway. Please let me know if there's ever a way I can make it up to you."

And now Kyle's smirk is salacious. Great. "Well, you can join me for that drink I requested to start," he laughs, waving you back into his apartment. "Then you can tell me what you were doing on a date with a guy like that."

"Hm," you hum, already given in but thinking of how you can get what you want out of him first. Your scheming has already worked out so well for you tonight, after all. "Sure, but first you gotta tell me what you were doing on his phone."

He doesn't even miss a beat. "No can do. Top secret stuff."

"Oh," you scoff, allowing yourself to be corralled toward the couch. It's surprisingly soft, instantly cocooning you the moment you slump into it. A woven blanket hangs over the back of it which you wonder if Kyle would mind you using, if he'd get a kick out of returning from the kitchen to find you curled up like you owned the place. Probably, he wouldn't because he's much too nice to you always. "Potential terrorist threat was he?"

"He did fit the profile," Kyle calls back from the kitchen.

You laugh, decide if he's allowed to call your date a terrorist then you're definitely allowed to use his blanket. His fault for leaving the window open on such a cold day. As expected, Kyle seems completely unbothered when he returns moments later, your favorite mocha monstrosity in one hand and his standard plain, sweetened coffee in the other. He holds your drink out of your reach teasingly however until you admit you'd met Dylan on a dating app and he tuts, relenting your drink to you almost as an apology for what you've had to go through.

"Why are you even on those things?" he asks, slurping at his coffee noisily. It's a funny habit of his, one he somehow manages to make endearing.

Though, looking like that, you imagine he could probably make booger picking endearing.

"Well, Kyle, some of us aren't quite as naturally charming as you."

He smirks, doesn't bother to deny it. Cocky asshole. "Don't sell yourself short, I'm sure plenty of men would love to have their blankets stolen by you." He winks, hand reaching out to pluck at the weave which drapes over your shoulder. His hand lingers there, warm even through the layers, and your laugh dies in your throat, comes out as a strangled scoff.

"Well. Keep it a little warmer in here and your guests wouldn't have to make themselves at home uninvited."

Kyle's smile is softer this time, dangerously handsome. "You're always invited, pet."

And try as you might to be witty, you can't quite come up with a response to that. Kyle doesn't seem to need one, though, slurping at his coffee as he settles in, far too close. The hand which had been at your shoulder settles lower, palm warm where he kneads at your thick thigh experimentally. You'd laugh at the irony if your brain wasn't too busy turning somersaults trying to make sense of what's happening. Surely your neighbor Kyle - sexy, sharp, nice Kyle - isn't coming onto you.

Right?

But then he's leaning forward and placing his mug on the table, his thick fingers guiding your own mug to your mouth for a quick, stunned sip before pulling it away again and placing it next to his own. He's facing you now, full on, his big dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I was making him delete all your contact info. Earlier. And then I made him deactivate his account," Kyle laughs, an infectious thing which gets you giggling too.

"Not willing to subject other girls to him?"

"I don't take chances," Kyle confirms, voice solemn as a vow. "But what about you, pet? What do I gotta do to convince you to delete yours?"

Given you'd already planned on deleting it, you should really just tell him you've already learned your lesson and there's no need to do anything at all. But your scheming has only yielded a fifty percent success rate tonight and you'd rather go for broke than break even so you just smile, wondering if Kyle saw your no-hookups stipulation on your profile before making Dylan unmatch earlier.

You hope not.

"I don't know, it might take a lot of convincing."

#kyle x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #alcohol cw

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adinathinternationalindia · 13 days ago

Text

Front back and top side labeling machine

Automatic front and back sticker labeling machine is a fully automatic labeling machine that is sturdy and used to apply sticker labels on the front and back of bottles of various shapes and sizes. Packagers can leverage this machine to apply sticker labels on the front and back of oval, rectangular, square and round bottles. With a processor controlled label dispensing system, a sensing system and a unique single point synchronized speed control system, the machine offers high productivity. It can offer a production output as high as 120 labels per minute. There is no need to manually feed and store label length data. Understandably, our automatic two side front and back labeling machine eliminates the need of retrieving data, making changes and restarting the machine.

Adinath’s automatic two side front and back labeling machine comprises a touch screen for enhanced accessibility. Owing to its precise technology and VFDs, the machine makes precise labeling on single side or double side a breeze.

#Automatic front and back sticker labeling machine #fully automatic labeling machine #automatic two side front and back labeling machine

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months ago

Text

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

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opossumprints · 3 months ago

Text

You're Weird--I'm Weirder

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

POV Eddie, a part 2/continuation of this, now with part 3

Eddie has a problem. Like Eddie Munson, the person has a problem. On a psychological level. Normal people have problems like flat tires or going to the store only to find that they don't have their favorite cereal. But noooo, not Eddie. He just has to be different.

Eddie is sitting on the floor of his room–which, to be fair, is a pretty normal thing to do–staring at eight pristine pairs of underwear. Odd, but not totally out of the question. The freaky bit is that not a single one belongs to him.

Eddie spread them out, laid them in a straight line, sat down, and wondered how the hell he got here.

In theory, he knows exactly how he got here. It had started on a completely normal Sunday laundry day. The Munsons have a system; every Sunday morning, Eddie unceremoniously chucks his dirty laundry in a bucket, chucks the bucket into his van, and drives his sorry sleepy ass down to the town's cheap, dingy laundromat when the church crowd is too busy doin’ their thing and the building is at its quietest.

The system worked very well for Eddie. The structure meant he actually got his laundry done instead of leaving it piled in a corner, and it gave him an excuse to get out of going to church with his Uncle Wayne.

It's not that he didn't love his uncle; he just hated going to church (and the people at church hated him, so it’s a win-win scenario).

The only problem came about Sunday, the 16th of February, 1986 (yes, he remembers the day, it's that bad). That problem’s name is Steve freaking Harrington.

Eddie had walked in like normal, said hello to the owner like normal, and walked to his normal machine near the back. The day was totally and completely normal except for the fact that when he looked up, Steve was standing right there.

Eddie had been so surprised to see King Steve in a crappy laundromat of all places that he had frozen mid-step and lost his balance. It also just so happened that Steve’s basket of dirty laundry was directly under his foot, and when he teeter-tottered over, Eddie stepped right in it and slipped like it was a cartoon banana peel.

Clothes had flown everywhere.

Eddie had been so preoccupied with apologizing that he wasn't paying attention to whose proverbial panties he was snatching. It hadn’t been until he dumped his clean clothes on his bed to sort and put away that he even noticed the pair of underwear he'd nabbed definitely weren't his.

It was an honest mistake—one that anyone could have made. The boxers looked like something Eddie would buy: red with a black waistband, probably came in a three-pack with a matching blue and gray pair.

If it wasn't for the fact that the tag inside read “Stevie” instead of any of the crude jokes Eddie labeled his underwear with, he probably wouldn't have noticed.

Obviously, Eddie couldn't give them back without risking having his face pummeled, so he shoved them in his closet, and that was that.

Or it would have been, but it kept happening.

From that point onward, every Sunday, Eddie would come back from the laundromat only to discover underwear that didn't belong to him and definitely belonged to Steve.

The real kicker was that he couldn't remember stealing a single one! Besides the first pair, he had no idea when and how the offending underwear ended up with him.

So now here he is, sitting in front of a line of underwear and contemplating his life choices.

(And admiring his collection. But only a little!)

Oddly, each pair got, how could he put this, more…cutesy? than the last. The first pair is solid red and normal, but the second pair is a sweet and buttery pastel yellow. Pair number three is baby pink. Number four is the first pattern, a classic white with red hearts. Pair number five is also pink, but this time with pale five-petaled flowers scattered across them. And so on.

He can excuse the patterned ones as probably some sort of Valentine's gag gift. It had been two days before the initial panty pilfering after all. Not that he needs excuses for the pattern of boxers he doesn't own. What he has no excuse for is pair number eight.

Pair number eight is made out of silk and lace, the color of bittersweet nightshade. They have Stevie written on the label like all the others. They’re teeny and sweet and most definitely lingerie. And they're driving Eddie up a wall!

Not even for the normal reasons! Most dudes like Eddie would be losing their minds because they stole lingerie from their crush, but the thing that's bugging Eddie is that there is no possible way he’s the one who stole them.

Eddie was extra careful today. He kept his head down, and he chose a machine further away from Steve, he didn't even talk to the guy.

(Steve had come over to talk to him since Eddie's grand spill. The first time it happened, Eddie was fully prepared to meet his maker, only for Steve to ramble out apologies rapid fire. It turns out that Steve had spent the whole week guilt-ridden because he had left his basket in the middle of the walkway, which caused Eddie to slip. Poor guy didn't calm down until Eddie had reassured him no less than 15 times that he wasn't hurt and they were totally cool.)

It had become part of the routine, part of the system, for the two to have a conversation before one or the other left. But not today. today he was careful. The very second he had noticed Steve make his way over out of the corner of his eye he made a break for the bathroom. Never before had he been so grateful for the fact that Sudsy’s had a toilet left over from when the building was something else.

He hid there for as long as was socially acceptable before slinking out to start his drier cycle. He waved to Steve across the room when he saw him. Just to say they were still cool. No other reason.

The point is that the only time he was anywhere near Steve’s laundry basket was when Eddie passed it on his way out. He definitely did not grab anything then. Or at least he thought he didn't.

Oh god did he? Was he so far gone that he didn't even notice?!?!

Eddie groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Hands that were still holding the underwear, the underwear, The probably not clean underwear, the–Jeasus, maybe Eddie did need to go to church ‘cus the thoughts he is thinking are not pure!

What does he do now? He can't turn himself in, he’s in too deep. But if this continues… well he doesn't know what will happen, but it can't be good!

For now, he figures that as long as Steve hasn't figured out where his underwear wandered off to everything will be fine.

Hopefully.

On the bright side, Eddie probably still has another hour until Wayne gets back. He can think of plenty of ways to fill that time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------hehehehehe Steve and I are twirling our collective nonexistent evil mustaches. If anyone was disappointed that Steve didn't show up much another part is already in the works. so don't worry! more is on the way.

#stranger things #steddie #off screen #steve harrington #steve harrington's weird flirting #eddie munson #he's freaking out #but he's also cataloguing underwear like a wine list #so it cant be too bad #let the record show #i wrote this instead of sleeping #in the middle of the night #and that #i talk too much

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calumfmu · 9 months ago

Text

spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #drabble turned fic #my writing #I've been thinking how much I love this man #and I had to put it down in words #hope you enjoy #kisses

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