#i need to get drunk more often it makes me happy

[pedgito]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader

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summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.

content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)

word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)

“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”

The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.

He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.

“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”

“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”

“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”

“You’ve gotta get to know him—”

“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”

“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”

You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.

“How much?”

“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.

Silence stretches.

“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”

“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”

“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”

-

You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.

Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something. 

You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.

It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit. 

The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.

The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.

You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.

“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”

The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.

“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”

“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”

You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously. 

“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”

He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.

Jesus, okay.

You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”

“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.

“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”

“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.

“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”

It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.

He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.

Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.

After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.

“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”

“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Highly unlikely, you think.

He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.

“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.

“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.

Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.

“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”

His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.

“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”

“Think?”

You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”

Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.

“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”

“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.

“Blame your agent, Lucien.”

He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise. 

Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly. 

He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.

It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.

—

The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.

Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.

He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess. 

The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman. 

You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident? 

He had to, right?

He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.

Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.

He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”

“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”

“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”

“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.

“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”

His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.

“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”

You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”

James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.

But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity. 

“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”

Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.

He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.

-

“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”

And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”

“I’m genuine.”

James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.

“I am.”

Only time would tell, really.

By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.

Lock the door.

The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.

Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.

You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.

Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.

But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.

Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.

“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”

“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”

“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”

You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.

“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”

“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”

He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.

“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.

“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”

You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.

“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.

It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…

“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”

“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”

“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.

“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”

You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”

“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”

You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.

“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”

-

Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.

He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.

Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.

He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.

“Is it for an audition?”

“How’d you know?”

“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”

Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.

“Just ask,” You tell him.

“You any good?”

It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.

“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.

It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.

“Do you have them memorized?” 

Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”

You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”

Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.

–

You could keep up, that much was obvious.

Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role. 

It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.

He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.

“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.

“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”

“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”

You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.

“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.

“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”

Your face twitches, actually twitches.

“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”

And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.

Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.

You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.

It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.

Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.

“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.

You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.

“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.

Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.

You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.

–

Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.

You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.

“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”

Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…

“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.

“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”

“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”

 “Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”

“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”

“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”

Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat. 

It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.

It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.

His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings. 

Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.

And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.

You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.

Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action. 

He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.

He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”

You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave? 

You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.

He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.

“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”

It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.

“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”

—

He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.

“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.

“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.

You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”

You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”

Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.

“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.

“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.

“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”

You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”

Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”

Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him. 

“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”

“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”

“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”

“Fine, enlighten me, then.”

“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.

“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, “I’m—just, thank you.”

“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.

You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”

“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”

“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“

You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.

He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”

You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll. 

He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on. 

There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation. 

—

The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.

It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.

Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.

“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.

You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.

“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”

Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”

“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”

There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.

An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.

Goddammit.

–

He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”

Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.

“Come again?”

A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.

“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”

Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.

It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.

“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”

“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”

Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.

In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.

“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.

Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue. 

It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.

He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along. 

By the third month, the dam breaks.

You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.

“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”

“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”

Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”

“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”

It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.

Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”

–

When he should, he doesn’t. 

Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.

The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.

He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.

You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.

“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”

It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.

It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.

“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.

“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.

He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”

You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.

“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”

“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”

“You did. I’ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”

If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.

Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.

“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”

Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”

It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree. 

“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”

“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”

All hell would break loose. 

“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”

“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”

You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”

He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.

Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”

You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.

You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.

Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.

He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.

It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.

He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.

–

He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.

He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.

 And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.

No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.

“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.

You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”

“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”

You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.

And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.

Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.

You needed something else to occupy your mind.

“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”

He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”

With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.

“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.

It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.

He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.

“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”

He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”

“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”

He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.

“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”

You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.

A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires. 

He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”

He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context. 

But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”

Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.

“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”

Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”

You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.

It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.

Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.

His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”

You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.

If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.

“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”

The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”

He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”

There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.

Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.

“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.

A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.

He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.

He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.

You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”

“What?”

He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.

“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”

Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.

“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.

He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?

“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”

“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”

“Can I think about it?” 

Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.

“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”

The sex, he means.

A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”

He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.

“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.

–

Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.

But, you were taking the risk.

Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.

“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.

“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”

“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”

Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.

The rest could be figured out later.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[ilovebeatingmywife]

in the trenches

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???

[moonstruckme]

Hear me out reader who only feels comfortable getting sloshed/drunk when Remus is there cause she loves that she can trust him enough to take care of her <3 or reader accidentally gets super drunk and remus takes care of her and finds the situation very amusing cause reader usually isn’t this free. love ur work!

Thank you for your request gorgeous!!

cw: alcohol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 573 words

You’re giggling, nearly hanging off Remus’ arm as you walk a ways behind your group of friends. “I’m really sorry,” you say again, eyes turning up to his with a sheepish smile tickling your lips. “I never usually get like this.” 

“It’s really okay, lovely.” Remus smiles. He doesn’t mind that he has to keep reassuring you, only that you seem to think you have to keep apologizing. “It happens to everyone.”

You’re not even that sloshed, he doesn’t think. Enough to be walking funny and to be giving him far more sweet looks than you would be otherwise, but Remus thinks you’ll still remember all of this tomorrow. All in all, it’s not a bad deal for him. You’ve been clinging to his arm all night, hiding smiles in his shoulder and preening each time he drops a kiss on your head. 

“No, but honestly,” you go on, “I don’t want you to think I do this every time I go out. I don’t usually need taking care of.” 

“I don’t think that,” he says. “Not that I think it’s such a bad thing to need taking care of from time to time, either. Do you want your cheesy chips?” 

You’ve forgotten he’s holding them for you, and your face lights up when you remember. Remus hands them over, watching as you open the takeaway container with your arm still looped through his and steam wafts up to your face. A drunken James had insisted he needed a burger to complete his night, so most of your friends had gotten some snack or another for the walk home from the bar. 

You nearly moan as you take your first bite, and Remus has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I think that’s part of it,” you say through a mouthful. “That you don’t think it’s such a bad thing.” 

Remus hums. “How do you mean?” 

“Well, I just—” You cover your mouth, chewing. “I didn’t set out to get drunk, honestly, but I did sort of have a sense that I could if I wanted to. I trust you.” 

Remus’ chest warms. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you say, kissing cheese sauce off your fingertips. “I mean, I know you’d always watch out for me if I needed you to.” 

It’s a good thing none of his friends are looking back, because Remus is fairly certain the smile that takes him would earn him at least three days of jokes and teasing. He loves that you feel that way. You and Remus have only been dating for a handful of weeks, but he does want to look after you and it makes him happy beyond reason that you feel safe enough to let him. The kiss he presses into your hair is heavy with affection. 

“I’m glad,” he says. Understatement of the year. 

You curl closer to him, your arm pressing against his through your coats. Remus treasures the closeness. He wishes you were like this more often. Not drunk, necessarily, but free with yourself, with asking for and occasionally taking what you want. 

You look up at him, eyes glittery in the low light. “Would you like a chip?” you ask him sweetly. 

When Remus agrees, you try to feed it to him, missing by a mile. It’s a plot; he lets you kiss the cheese sauce off the edges of his mouth for as long as you like.

[mywritersmind]

TWENTY FINE - LN4

summary : Throwing your best friend a birthday party is easy. Trying to figure out if he’s joking about kissing you is the hard part. Two best friends and a moonlit roof.

listen up : kissing! swearing! happy birthday lando norris!! 25!

word count : 1976

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lights flashing, music blasting, people jumping. It's everything that surrounds me while I grab my third drink of the night from the bar. A body slides up next to me and I know who it is immediately.

He smells like alcohol and the cologne I bought for him last year. “Birthday boy.” I smile softly as he grins at me. “You look happy.”

“How could I not be? My best friend organized the best party ever just for me. I’m feeling special.” He’s radiating good energy. He looks sickeningly good. In black slacks and a shirt to match, it’s unbuttoned low enough so I can see his 4 necklace hitting his chest.

“Well, you’re twenty fine!” I laugh at my own joke as Lando cringes, “I’m glad you’re happy though.” The bartender hands me my drink which I bring to my lips instantly. He's being extra nice to me because I organized the party and made sure it’s only people we know and like.

He rests his hand on my arm as a girl calls his name, he glances back then meets my eyes again, “I seriously don’t deserve you.” Lando brings his lips to my cheek quickly, winking and hurrying off to people who chant his name.

I laugh, making my way over to my friends. Max eyes me, “You’re seriously beating me out of number one best friend spot.”

“Good! I deserve it more.” He shakes his head, his curls moving with him.

“Not fair! Lando likes your face more.” I roll my eyes and take another drink, turning to Carlos who’s with his girlfriend Rebecca.

“Can I steal your girlfriend away?” Carlos frowns as Rebecca sits up, “That actually wasn’t a question!” I take her hand and we run into the crowd.

Everyone’s sweaty and drunk and laughing. I hold onto Rebecca’s hand and jump under the lights. My hair is messy and in my face, my skirt riding up and I couldn’t be happier.

Some of our friends join us, hugging and waving at people as I grin. My drink is empty in my hand and I lose it when a guy comes up next to me. He’s one of Lando’s friends, hot and tall with shaggy hair.

I catch Lando in the crowd right as his friends puts his hand on my waist, whispering in my ear in an attempt to be seductive.

He’s laughing with Max and a girl I don’t know. She’s holding Lando’s hand but I can tell he’s trying to shake her off when he moves to push back his hair with his occupied hand.

He gives in eventually, dancing with her far too close for my eyes. I turn back to the guy and focus on him.

He grabs my ass as I move my hands to his shoulders, “You’re Y/n, right?” I nod, leaning my head back and feeling the music. “I’ve heard a lot about you!” I wish he would stop talking to me.

“That’s nice!” Is all I can say.

“Lando talks you up, I just had to see if you’re really that great!” I nod slowly and back away to my friends. Mentioning my best friend while feeling me up is not the way to get in my pants.

“Y/n!” Lily, Alex Albons girlfriend grins at me. Every annoyance in my face disappears as I hug her.

“Lily!” We melt into a mix of talking, screaming the lyrics, and dancing.

“Where’s Lando!?” She yells over the music as I shrug.

“Off with some girl!”

She gives me a look. It’s weird and almost surprised, She sips her drink and nods drunkenly, “You need a boyfriend!” When she gets pulled away by her boyfriend, I slip out of the crowd.

I know my way around the place, there’s three levels and they’re all completely filled. When I step up to the third, I can see Lando at the DJ booth, a huge smile on his face.

I close the door behind me, the music muffling as I walk up the staircase. It’s creepy and dark but as soon as I step onto the roof, the cool air hitting me, I take a deep breath and smile.

I love parties, I wouldn’t be so close with Lando if I didn’t. But I need air far more often than him. I step to the edge, leaning on the barrier and looking out at the city.

People are walking the streets still, some dancing and some arguing. They look like ants. My eyes catch on a tiny couples, they’re holding hands and skipping down the street.

I rest my chin on my hand, looking up at the stars. I wonder if any of the stars are looking down at me and thinking I look like an ant.

I’m so absorbed in the sky that I jump when the door to the starecase opens. When I turn, I see Lando.

His hands are in his pockets as he walks up to me, “You okay?”

“Yeah! Just wanted some air…” I turn to him, the concrete rubbing against my exposed back, “Why are you up here?”

“Looking for you. Had a feeling you’d be looking at the stars.” He's teasing but I know he’s 100% serious. He rests his forearms on the parapet and looks out at the city.

I outline his profile in my mind, his freckles and hair looking extra nice under the moonlight. His eyes closes, dark green disappearing under unfairly thick lashes.

“Enjoying the party?” I ask quieter than I meant.

He turns to me, looking at me like no one else has. “I’d be enjoying it more if you would stay with me.” I may have been avoiding him a tiny bit, but I wanted him to be catching up with his other friends.

“You seemed like you were enjoying that girl's presence more than mine.” I’m lying and he knows it.

Lando turns to me, narrowing his eyes, “Untrue.” He looks at me for a second, his eyes flicking down to my body. If it were anyone else, I would think they were just looking at my outfit. Unfortunately, I know Lando better than that. “You look good.”

“Well this party is star studded…” I joke, “Had to look my best to compete.” I run my hand through my hair, my rings tugging on it.

He shakes his head, not joking with me, “They can’t compete with you in pajamas, love.” Still, a serious little smile tugs at his lips. This is what he does.

He drops something like that then goes and makes out with a girl opposite of me. But I’ve done the same so I can’t say anything. It’s just how our friendship works.

“Someone’s been taking advantage of the bar.”

“I've had two drinks.” Is all he says. I know he’s serious, too. “I wanted to say thank you- though. That’s why I came up here.”

I smile softly, tilting my head at him, “You’ve said thank you.”

“I mean thank you for everything.” His hands fidget in front of him, “For being there.”

He’s being extra sincere. “You’re welcome. And this is your present so don’t go asking for more-” He gets a big closer, laughing.

“Just one more thing?” He says in a sort of begging tone.

I raise a brow, our arms touching now, “What could you, Mr rich birthday boy, want?”

He bites his lip, then lets it go. The look he gives me is… magnetic. “A birthday kiss.”

It surprises me and for the first time in a while, I don’t know if he’s joking. “I’m sure you could get that from many others.”

“You don’t want to kiss me?” His hand goes to my waist, not touching my skin, but tugging at the fabric of my skirt.

I breathe in, scanning his face for any hint of humor. “I didn’t say that.” I know I made the right move when the corner of his mouth tugs upwards.

“So say you want to.” His voice is soft, that accent I’ve listened to for years soothing my beating heart.

I furrow my brows together, “You’re gonna make me beg for your birthday present?” There’s a tiny shadow on his face from the moonlight and his curls.

“It’s called consent, love.”

I take a big step, resting my arm on his shoulder so he gets closer, “Happy birthday, Lando.” I don’t think he’s going to do it at first, but then he leans in.

He hesitates, looking at my lips and eyes to make sure. But then he closes the gap and I wonder why I would ever say yes to this.

I think I'm out of my mind but who cares about that because Lando’s lips are on mine and I'm melting into him. He’s soft, pressing a gentle kiss onto my lips. Lando pulls back by an inch, he looks into my eyes. They're so green, my favorite color.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I'm pulling him back in, crushing his lips back onto mine. His hold on my hips gets tighter and my other arm wraps around his neck. His tongue goes into my mouth and suddenly I can’t understand why we haven’t done this before.

Kissing Lando is everything. My mind has come up with a hundred ways this would happen, I knew I shouldn’t think about it but I can’t help my dreams.

He feels hot against me. Hungry and needy for me.

He pulls me tighter against him, like he physically needs to be closer. It’s everything I've ever wanted and everything I’ve dreaded.

The moment someone steps out onto the roof, loudly stomping and singing, I pull away and look back over at the city.

It looks new… somehow.

I don’t look back at the guy, but Lando clears his throat and the man starts talking, “Oh shit! Sorry!” and the door closes, leaving us again in silence.

My heart is pounding so hard that I barely hear Lando mumble, “Dickhead.”

I smile slightly at this, dropping my head down so my hair falls in my face. What the fuck did I just do?

“I’m going to ask for one more thing.” Lando says, “Please don’t get mad.”

I push my hair behind my ear and listen to him.

“Can I take you out?” What the hell. “On an actual date. Not for a present or because I want you to. Because you want to.”

“Lando-”

“We’re not ruining anything.” He knows what I was going to say already. “I want to take you out on a date because I like you.”

I feel like I'm dreaming. This doesn’t feel possible. “Okay.”

“And you can’t say no just because you’re nervous because i’m nervous too and basically shitting myself just asking- wait. Okay!?”

I smile softly, nodding, “I guess I'll let you pay for a fancy dinner.”

He shakes his head, a huge smile appearing on his face, “We are not going to dinner! Do you even know me?” his hand goes to mine, lingering.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, Lando.” I say it because he’s right, I am scared.

He shakes his head, “I’m twenty fine… Nothing gets messed up anymore! Especially with you. Nothing is ever wrong with you.”

I sigh as he slips his hand to my cheek, moving his thumb softly against my skin. He cups my jaw and kisses me again. “I like kissing you.”

It feels right all over again, and I can’t help but smile at the idea that I’ll be doing this over and over again.

“Smiley.” He says against my lips.

Lando barely lets me get my words in, lost in lust and smiles, “I like you too, Norris. A lot.” He kisses me harder.

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[papercorgiworld]

Gryffindor Fever

Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor!reader

Brought to you by this request. While the Slytherins usually bully you, everything drastically changes when you go missing and Mattheo finds out he might have, what Pansy calls: Gryffindor fever.

Happy readings lovely readers! 💛

“Wooh, your test went about as well as the last gryffindor quidditch game.” Mattheo laughed and half of the class chimed as you looked horrified at your test. Snape shushed the class only to hack into your emotional state himself. 

And if that had been it for today, you wouldn’t have complained but leave it to the slytherin douchebags to make your day worse. A smug looking Draco pushes everyone to the side to catch up with you, his cold eyes snaring at you, followed by his gang. “Being stupid can’t be helped. It comes with gryffindor colours, but dressing like you fell into your grandma’s laundry basket is your choice.” Theo snickers as he pulls your home knit scarf. You loosen your scarf and before you fully register what you're saying you’ve already snapped back at the tall slytherin. “Says the guy who doesn’t know how to use a comb.” You snap, darting mean eyes at his bird’s nest of a hairdo. Mattheo has to press his lips together, hiding his amusement at your feistiness, as Theo takes a big step towards you, only to be held back by Enzo. “Dumbledore is around the corner, think about the house cup, mate.” Enzo ushers in a loud whisper, making Theo turn around but not before his dead eyes curse you to the beyond. 

You give them a nasty look, before turning around a corner. “Nice one. Those guys need to be put in their place more often. Otherwise they’ll think they own hongwarts.” George says, but his voice echoes in the back of your head as you feel yourself get lightheaded. Suddenly you feel arms wrap around you and after a few deep breaths you manage to look up and meet Fred’s eyes. You regain strength and lift your hand to rest on your forehead. “I got dizzy for a moment.” You analyse out loud in a soft whisper. “Yeah, we noticed.” Fred voices his concern as he helps you sit down against a cold wall. George immediately conjures a cup of water for you, which you take with a soft smile. “I got way too worked up over my test and Snape’s lecture and those- those idiots.” The twins look at you with sympathy and to each other with a glitter in their eyes, for sure they would play a fantastic trick on those Slytherins for you getting so stressed. 

It was Hermoine’s advice that convinced you to ignore and avoid everyone and everything silver and green coloured. “Just study and find peace in the books.” She had told you over dinner that same day. You following her advice hadn’t gone unnoticed as Slytherins started to miss their favourite gryffindor to make a fool of. Harry was a sensitive issue after he and Draco had almost kissed him when drunk at a Hufflepuff party. Hermione was old news. And Ron was just too easy of a target. You were perfect, but as of the last few days: unfindable, since you hit in a corner of the library only nerdy ravenclaws and Hermione knew about. And apparently also Fred and George. 

“You gotta eat!” George exclaimed, losing his patience with you. “No. I got to study.” You mumble not looking up from your book. “Failing one test will not kill you, starvation will.” Fred added as he tried to reach for your book. You quickly pull your book closer. “I already failed a test, if I fail another Snape will kill me.” “Your brain needs food.” Fred says with a voice low and serious. “Later…” You say, your eyes meeting his for only a second. The twins sigh, but leave for the great hall in defeat. “Unbelievable, that one.” You hear George whisper, making you look at them walking away. I really should eat… after this chapter I should definitely eat something.

You did not eat after that chapter, in fact you studied late. Robbing yourself of sleep and draining yourself completely.

“Do you think (y/n) is alright?” Mattheo blurs out as he stares at the fire, standing still with his hands in his pockets. Pansy looks up from the novel she was reading, carefully studying Mattheo through her lashes before scanning the empty common room. It’s only when Mattheo turns to look at her that she puts her book away. “Do I look like the Gryffindor whisperer to you? No clue what that girl thinks. At this point I don’t even know what you’re thinking… What’s she to you?” Mattheo shrugs. “Just haven’t seen her in a while.” Pansy fakes a pout. “You must have the same thing as Draco…” Mattheo frowns, but Pansy’s quick to explain herself as she gets up and whispers in Mattheo’s ear: “Gryffindor fever.” 

Mattheo gives Pansy a look of disgust but quickly finds that he has no counterargument, because he really was worried about you. Pansy cheekily tilts her head to the side as she watches Mattheo struggle. Just as Mattheo has gathered enough words for a sentence the door to the common room is blown open and Mattheo is slung against a wall, making Pansy shriek and duck behind a couch. “Where is she, you snake?” George yells as both twins point their wands at Mattheo who is picking himself up off the ground. “What?!”

***

With panic in their eyes Fred, George and Mattheo flew over hogwarts’ grounds, quickly Mattheo grew impatient and started to explore the edge of the dark forest. You had been last seen by a hufflepuff who thought you were looking for potion ingredients, depending on what you were looking for you would have probably gone into the forest. Mattheo felt his heart racing, what if something bad had happened to you. He suddenly realised how silly he had been pretending he didn’t care about anyone, leave alone annoying Gryffindors. His grip on his broom tightened as it dawned on him that he only wanted people to think he didn’t care about you and that seemed so silly now. 

From a distance your body looks lifeless and Mattheo’s heart stopped beating for what felt like minutes until he wrapped you in his arms. A soft sound escapes your lips and a most gentle kiss on your head assures you that you’ll be alright. “Let’s get you back to the castle and all warmed up.” You were still pretty out of it but you could’ve sworn that sounded like Mattheo Riddle, but like the soft gentle version… Clearly you were not well yet, because that would be impossible. Instinctively you grab onto his warm clothes and snuggle in. Your whole body was drained of energy but you knew you were safe.

George opened the door to the Gryffindor common room and Fred held the door open while George threw everyone off the couch. Every Gryffindor in the room stood gawking as Mattheo carried you inside carefully. As Mattheo ever so gently lay you down on the couch, he heard Ron whisper: “Now I’ve seen everything.” Making the slytherin roll his eyes as he could already imagine the red head’s dumb face. Fred leans over you, softly whispering your name. George pushes both Mattheo and Fred away so he can lay a blanket over you and Fred tucks you in a little more as your eyes flutter open. Every student in the room has now surrounded the couch you’re laying on. “What happened?” Hermione asks, eyes darting between the twins. “Think she passed out.” George answers and Fred nods. “Yeah.” You whisper and you open your eyes fully to see everyone hang over the couch staring at you. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten and slept a bit more instead of just studying for Snape’s stupid test.”  

Mattheo just keeps his distance, feeling guilty for everytime he mistreated you. Not saying a word since he feels unworthy. Slowly he makes his way to the door as he hears you explain what happened. “Hey, is it possible I heard Riddle’s voice when I was in the forest?” You suddenly ask, making Mattheo hold his breath as the room falls silent. “Yeah…” George says as he moves away, so you see a soft looking Mattheo staring back at you. Mattheo swallows hard, gathering courage to say what he really wishes to say. “Take care of yourself.” There’s a sincerity in his voice, but the way he raises his hand to awkwardly wave you goodbye makes the whole ordeal just bizarre. Ron just stares at Mattheo with wide eyes as he leaves. “If I didn’t know any better I would think he genuinely cares for you, (y/n).” Yeah, if I didn’t know any better… I would think the same.

***

Mattheo had been on your mind ever since he left so awkwardly that night. You would often catch yourself trying to remember the warmth of that forehead kiss, his smell when you held onto him and his gentle words. It seemed so surreal. You shake your head trying to focus on the test in front of you, but again your thoughts drift to how ever since you passed out, not a single person has bothered you. Your eyes wander over to Mattheo obviously trying to see what Theo is writing on his test. In order to get yourself to focus, you promise yourself that you’ll confront Mattheo after Snape’s class. 

You patiently wait outside the classroom while Mattheo and Enzo try to suck up to Snape, since they had a bad feeling about the test. When both guys enter the hallway you immediately step in front of them. “Mattheo, can we talk?” Your voice came out softer than you expected. Enzo licked his lips, but Mattheo made sure nothing cheeky was said and sent Enzo away with one curt nod. “How did your test go?” Mattheo asks, to your surprise he sounded like any other student. There was no mocking tone and mean eyes staring you down. “It went pretty good, I guess… but you never know with Snape. He’s not really fond of Gryffindors.” Mattheo smiles. “You don’t say. Hadn’t noticed.” You chuckle and his eyes linger on your lips, adoring your soft laugh. 

“How are you?” He quickly picks up the conversation, worried his staring would weird you out. “I’m good. I’ve been eating properly and Ginny’s been making sure I go to bed on time, Fred and George’s orders.” A soft huff escapes Mattheo’s lips and you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. “They’re good friends, those Weasley’s. You’re lucky you have them watching over you.” You couldn’t help but smile at him with loving eyes. There was something so adorable about Mattheo, you couldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t standing right in front of you. “Thank you.” You whisper, making Mattheo’s eyes shoot up to lock onto yours. “I’m lucky to have you as well.” You move to stand on your tippy toes and give a feather light kiss on his cheeks, turning the cold Slytherin into a blushing love struck puppy.  

Mattheo felt himself heat up and just stood there nailed to the floor as you walked away. And he could help but think back to Pansy’s words: This must be Gryffindor fever. 

Word count: 1803

[suhlogic]

cold sweat [kim mingyu x fem!oc]

warnings: fwb, sexual tension, size kink, creampie, manhandling, daddy kink, overstimulation, mingyu is really touchy, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected sex , porn with little plot , body worship, pussy-eating, car sex , a bit of a self-indulgent fic

you and mingyu have been friends since your senior year of high school. the two of you were as thick as thieves, it didn’t matter if there was the risk of being separated in college— you two would always find each other during holidays and summer breaks in your hometown. but there was just one problem: you were falling hard and fast for the one and only kim mingyu. your mingyu who’s six feet and two inches tall of pure happiness and sweet disposition, the one who’d drop everything for you whenever you’re down, the person who was always cheering you on, and not to mention how handsome he is with his tan skin and prominently defined arms with his toned back as wide as the pacific ocean and those toned abs— but god, his smile and his contagious laugh that you could just constantly put on repeat no matter what time of day it is has you secretly pining away for your best friend. 

being physically intimate with him was not an uncharted territory  for the two of you, it just sort of happened one time when he came home drunk to your place and stumbled on your bed falling into a deep slumber as he cuddled you close in his hazy state. but you two never really brought up that night ever again, it did not matter if you two were sober or not, one of you would always offer cuddles and maybe a few stolen kisses in between especially when the both of you were stressed over schoolwork. it didn’t take that long for you to notice that mingyu was initiating them more often but repressed the thought that he could actually like you because you were just silly old you— always the best friend, never the girlfriend. but, little did you know, he fell first for you. of course he’d never admit that for the sake of protecting the friendship.

[10:00PM]

it was already late at night and you couldn’t stop tossing and turning in your bed so you decided to get up and shower to get ready for the 24/7 gym just near your apartment complex. after getting your things prepared, you decided to ring up mingyu to join you on your workout—or as he calls it, “gymscapade” for when you both get so stressed you need to work out a sweat. he picks up after two rings, voice clearly woken up from a deep slumber. “hey, what’s up?” he replies, “would you wanna go workout with me right now?” you ask, hoping he’s not too lazy in the confines of his bed on the other line.  “yeah, just let me get ready in a bit. call you soon when i’m there.” he says with a yawn. “okay, just meet me at the gym near my place just so i can get a good warmup.” you say as the both of you exchange your goodbyes. 

you make it to the gym not long after and decided to unzip your jacket halfway through your warmup. you were actually the only one in the gym since it was already quite late. while working up a sweat on the lat pulldown machine, you saw mingyu from the corner of your eye entering wearing  grey sweatpants and a compression tank top. he starts to warm up for a bit as you went to where he was, “what are you going to do today?” he asked, stretching out his arms. “i’ll just do a few upper and lower body workouts, maybe squeeze in some lifting too,” you say, as you take a sip from your water bottle. it never really struck you how handsome mingyu was until as of late, it just wasn’t in the books for the two of you to actually get together or even fuck at the very least but knowing how tiny and short you were compared to his huge, tall frame made you run a bit hot and wet down there. 

“care to spot me while i do bench presses?” he says as he takes off the dumbbells from the racks. you could barely lift what he pressed, it’s almost all-consuming seeing mingyu lay on the bench while you looked down at him as he lifted and praising him every time he’d do it. this position was not good for your health, all you could ever think about was him eating you out whenever he would moan out of exertion. you still had a few sets on the lat pulldown machine to go and asked him to spot you, to help you with your form since he was going to the gym longer than you have been. 

mingyu couldn’t stop looking at you. your hair up in a messy ponytail, wearing a cute workout set with just a pastel pink sports bra with tight-fitting compression shorts of the same color. you were so oblivious yet fucking obvious about how bad you wanted your friend to fuck you and he saw right through it. the way your skin would suddenly feel warm under his touch or how you’d hide the hitches in your breath whenever he was too close to you while he observes your workouts. as you were doing your set, he was behind you closing the gap between you two as he made sure you were feeling the burn in all the targeted muscles. as he lowered down to your level on the seat, your back brushed against his crotch and felt something huge and hard. “good girl, just one more and you’re done.” he whispered lowly in your ear as you exhaled when you let go of the bar in an upwards motion. 

as the two of you were helping each other finish workouts, he couldn’t help but gaze into your eyes with a hidden intent and leaned in for a kiss which made you set your dumbbells down on the floor with a loud thud booming through the room. it took you aback and you pulled away from the kiss, mingyu was shocked at your action and stared at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry i couldn’t help it ever since that night i never stopped thinking about you.” he says, as you pulled him in closer and kissed him harder as your tongues became entangled. “jump,” he whispers as he starts to carry you. fuck, it was really hot seeing him take the lead and it made you weaker for him than ever before. he puts you down before you could even leave hickeys on his neck, “y/n, i’m not going to fuck you here, let me be a gentleman and take you back to my place,” he says with a mischievous smile, lips red and swollen from the steamy makeup session. 

both of you grabbed your things and went inside his car, the tension was hot and heavy as his hand were rubbing your thigh further riling you up while he drove through the quiet streets of the city with you weak and submissive under his touch.    it was something that set your insides on fire— seeing mingyu’s hand veins pop out from gripping the steering wheel hard resisting himself from pulling over and fucking you in the nearest empty parking lot he could find. as soon as the stoplight turned red, he looked over at you with a menacing smirk. “god, you just look so pretty and desperate for me, huh?”

you couldn’t help but be more turned on as you felt your core get wetter just because of his words and before you knew it, he was taking off your seatbelt for you and leaning in for a desperate kiss with his tongue exploring your mouth as if he had been waiting for this moment. “go in the backseat, now” he said in between breaths while still cupping your face, his usual kind and bright eyes, now filled with lust and a dominating gaze desperately telling you how bad he wanted this. as you made your way into the back, he followed suit and did not waste time taking off your bra showing off your huge boobs, its buds already hardened from the cold air. he smirked as you whined at how he took your nipples between his fingers and played with them, mingyu then sat you on his lap and felt his manhood through his sweatpants as you were just only left in your tight shorts that were clearly thin. “princess, you look so pretty like this. all naked and wet for daddy, huh?” he whispered as you began to grind your clothed pussy on his hard dick, just more wanting more from him. craving mingyu like he was the kind of drug you needed, so intoxicating yet so worth the risk. 

with lust-filled eyes, mingyu looked up at you and pulled you in for a rough kiss, tongues tied with one another. as he pulled away once more, he started to leave love bites all over your neck and chest not giving a fuck who sees it— all he knows is that you're his by day's end. his rough hands began to roam your body and unclasped your bra skillfully letting your huge tits be free. his mouth immediately latched onto your tit while his fingers began to rub the nipple in between the other one.

"fuck, daddy please i wanna feel you inside," you moaned. he just smirked as he began to flip you onto the backseat so he'd be on top of you. "patience, angel, good girls get to cum." he whispers through gritted teeth, grinding his hard cock on your pussy, still clothed yet the thong you wore hardly doing anything to cover the wetness. as mingyu goes down on you to take off your underwear, he leaves kisses on your stomach and hips, "god, you look so gorgeous fucked out for me, why didn't we fuck sooner?" he moans in between kisses. he inserts two of his fingers inside your dripping pussy, "so fucking tight for me, yeah, can't wait for my dick to be inside hm?"  he says as you could  just lose all sense of rationality with how good he is with his fingers. he then lowers his head down in between your thighs and eats you out, licking your clit as if he's a starved man. 

"daddy, please i'm so fucking close," you whine, tears of pleasure filling your eyes. mingyu proceeds to insert three of his fingers and fucked you faster with it, his long and thick digits began to curl inside, "you like being a slut for me yeah? who fucking owns you?" he moans, "you daddy, please.. gyu.. .more," you say as he coaxes you into your first orgasm. he takes out his fingers, your cum coating his fingers as he proudly licks and sucks them off with pride with a devilish smirk. "you taste so sweet, angel... " he says as you begin to claw at the waistband of his  sweatpants, desperate to feel his dick inside you. he smirks at how helpless you look and removes his bottoms along with his boxers, his hard, long dick standing in its full glory slapping against his chiseled abs,  as its girth makes you wonder how it could fit inside of you.

"will it fit, gyu?" you ask in a small voice. "oh, we'll make it fit, princess, i've prepped you enough yeah?" he begins to jack off his dick preparing to put it inside. "fuck, you look so small for me, all for me..so pretty spread out like this," he moans as he teases the tip of his dick in between your folds and slowly thrusts it inside of you. "fuck...my god gyu so fucking good, please...move," you whine as he begins to slowly move inside of you taking his sweet time to be inside of you. god knows how fucking long he waited to have you like this, you just looked so angelic and slutty under him, it took everything in him to not fill you to the brim with his cum right there. his hands tightly gripped your waist as he pounded into you faster, feeling how big he is inside, hitting the tip of your cervix. you put your arms around the nape of his neck as you pull him in for a passionate kiss, hands roaming around his toned upper back leaving scratches on it as your nails dig into its broad surface. 

you feel his thrusts get faster and deeper as he began to rub your clit helping you to also reach your second orgasm, "i'm fucking close baby, " he moans as his thrusts get sloppier. "cum..inside..me..it's okay,'m on the pill daddy"you whine out as you two feel each other's release, his cum mixed with yours dripping down your thighs. mingyu pulled out as he reached into the glovebox compartment for a box of tissue helping you clean up. "fuck...what just happened?" he asks, giggling. "we fucked," you laugh as he pulls you closer to him in the tight space with the steam-filled windows from the sex earlier. "so...i like you..a fucking lot," he starts as he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours and kisses your forehead, "yeah, i do too gyu," you smile as you pull him in closer for another kiss, this time full of love and gentleness. "let's go home and finish what we started, yeah?" he says while you two begin to get dressed up and drive back to his place for the night. 

[blueicequeen19]

Drunken State pt. 2

Warnings: creampie, jealousy, mentions of cheating, somno, oral

Part One

You’ve managed to dodge Pope and his innocent advances for almost two days after a night of explosive orgasms with a drunk JJ. It was a simple mistake. Just two friends with similar needs.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And again.

It hadn’t even been 48 hours yet and JJ Maybank had been inside you more often than not. You’d find yourself in a room with all your friends and JJ would give you that look that made your blood heat and pussy pulse.

Now you found yourself cornered in the bathroom again, his cock hammering into you from your spot on the counter while your friends were all outside for a bonfire.

“I’m close.” You moaned into his ear, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as he grunted his pleasure.

“I know. You’re squeezing me so fuckin tight.” JJ groaned, his hands squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise.

“When are you gonna let me taste you?” You whisper, digging your nails into his back as he bares his teeth.

“Shit, don’t say shit like that.” JJ hisses, his body growing taunt like he’s trying to hold back.

“You don’t want to cum down my throat, J?” You purr, tightening your legs around his waist and squeezing hard. JJ moans loudly, his orgasm ripped from him as his eyes roll back. You smile in satisfaction even if it meant you didn’t have time to get yours. The power you had over him was intoxicating. This game had become too much fun.

“Fuck.” JJ growls, cupping your jaw and bringing you in for a hard kiss. “Stop making me cum without you.” JJ snags your bottom lip between his teeth, his cock still pulsing inside you.

“Never.”

Minutes later, you’re cleaning up in the bathroom while JJ rejoins the party. You’ve just finished fixing your hair when you hear raised voices in the living room.

“I’ve been waiting outside for you. What were you doing?” Your body bristles at the sound of JJ’s exs voice. Why was she here?

“You cheated on me so what does it matter?” JJ fires back, dread filling you at the direction this could turn. JJ was impulsive and unpredictable when cornered.

“We didn’t break up so if you’re screwing some other bitch then you’re cheating on me.” Oh fuck.

“Seems only fair, right?”

“Yo, what’s going on?” You froze at the sound of Pope’s voice, the front door swinging closed behind him. “Where’s Y/N?” Pope asked, your stomach dropping to the floor.

“Y/N? Is that who you’re fucking? That bitch over me?” This couldn’t be happening.

“What is she talking about?” Pope demands back.

“Don’t listen to her, Pope. She’s only happy if she’s running her mouth.” JJ snaps.

“I don’t remember hearing you ever complain about my mouth.” His ex fire back, satisfaction in her voice. Jealousy weighed you down, threatening to drown you as you fought to remain hidden.

“Get out!” JJ shouted, making you jump from the harshness in his voice. There was a long pause followed by the slamming of the front door. Only then did you release the breath you’d been holding.

“Where is Y/N?” Pope asks, the accusation clear in his voice.

“She said she was tired and went to her room.” There was another long pause that made you wish to see what was silently passing between them. You didn’t want to hurt Pope.

“We’re about to put the fire out for the night. Are you about to go to bed too?” Pope asked.

“Yea, I’m beat.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.” The front door opened and shut, giving you the all clear to slip from the bathroom. You cracked the door open to see JJ downing a beer in the kitchen, his eyes finding yours almost instantly.

“This is done until we come clean to Pope.” You said, flinching when he threw the beer bottle in the trash and raked a hand through his hair.

“Fine. Whatever.” JJ snapped, following Pope outside as you turned to find your bedroom.

Your heart hurt but it couldn’t be helped. You didn’t want to risk hurting anyone or your relationship with the rest of the group. A night alone would be good for the both of you.

Your eyes fluttered open on a soft moan as heat spread between your legs and left your clit throbbing. It took a moment to fully wake up before you felt the hands on your thighs and the tongue between your lips. Rings dug into your skin and you gasped, arching your back off the bed. It was impossible to fight the pleasure after denying yourself earlier. His skilled tongue was dragging you towards something explosive and your body was begging for it.

“Don’t scream.” JJ growled, before sucking hard on your clit and burying two fingers inside your pussy. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your body bowed off the bed and you came hard. His tight grip on your thighs kept you grounded as you rode out the high and were reduced to a shaking, withering mess.

“JJ.” You panted as he threw the blanket off and crawled up your body. His lips claimed yours in a wet kiss as he forced you to taste yourself. The head of his cock nudged your clit over and over again through the thin layer of his boxers, leaving a mess across the fabric.

“I can’t stay away from you.” JJ admitted, tugging on your peaked nipples through your sleep shirt.

“Get on the floor.” You urged, pushing at his chest and following him down onto your discarded blanket. JJ kicked off his boxers and sat up as you straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. You sank down on him with ease, your pulsing wet walls welcoming him as he moaned in your ear.

JJ yanked your shirt off to claim one of your nipples in his mouth as you started to ride him.

“Oh, fuck.” JJ groaned around your flesh, his hands on your hips urging you faster.

“You’re reckless.” You growl against his lips, suddenly irritated that he couldn’t listen for even one night. His teeth smacked yours as you bounced, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Is that all?” JJ smirked against your lips, thrusting up into you.

“Impulsive.” Thrust.

“What else?” Thrust.

“Irritating.” Thrust.

“You don’t feel irritated.” Another hard thrust had your jaw clenching as you fought off the impending pleasure.

“J.” You bit out as his mouth moved to your neck, biting and licking at the sensitive skin.

“You feel ready to cum. Like you’re holding back because you want to be mad at me.” JJ taunted, digging his fingers into your hips as he forced you to bounce harder. “Have you ever been able to stay mad at me?” JJ whispered harshly, holding you tighter as he rolled his hips and hit something even deeper inside you. You bit down on his shoulder as you came, meeting every roll of his hips with your own while he grunted in your ear.

“That’s my girl.” JJ slapped your ass before rolling you both over. A pillow was stuffed under your ass and your legs thrown over his shoulder just as he began to hammer into you. The floor was uncomfortable but you couldn’t risk waking your friends with the headboard slapping against the wall. And watching JJ sweat just did something to you.

“Oh, fuck.” You rasped, his cock reaching an even deeper spot. Your fingers found your nipples, pulling and twisting the hardened peaks while pleasure shot up your spine. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes away, blue eyes nearly black with desire as you played with yourself.

“You’re so fucking hot like this.” JJ growled, his hands digging into your thighs as he pounded your pussy. You were both so close to release but not ready to stop.

“Get on your hands and knees.” JJ whispered harshly, giving you no warning before he was handling you into position. Your knees ended up between his on the pillow as he entered you again. His pace was torturously slow, making you whine with each slow drag of his cock.

“JJ.. please..” You reached back, digging your nails into his hip to urge him on but he only chuckled.

“So impatient. Do you need to cum?” JJ taunted, pulling you up by your hair and wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you upright. You groaned pathetically, his cock so deep it hurt but he wouldn’t move. “I thought you were mad at me?” JJ whispers, turning your head so his lips can tease yours.

“J, please. Make me cum.” You beg, nails biting into his arms as you roll your hips, desperate for the pleasure he’s withholding. Your tongue comes out to lick the seam of his lips before taking his bottom one between your teeth.

“I’ll do anything you want. I just need your cock. Make me feel good, J.” His nostrils flare at the same time you feel his cock pulse inside you.

When his arms tighten around your trembling body, you nearly groan in satisfaction until you hear an unexpected sound. The sound of your door creaking open and a startled gasp. Your stomach falls before you both jerk your heads around to face the intruder.

Pope.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hi hi!

If your last post (Klaus!alpha) I lovedddd!!

I noticed you mentioned omegas stealing alphas

Would you consider doing a story where Klaus is with an omega (maybe tatia or caroline) but he finds reader and realises she’s not just an omega but his mate and his wolf gets desperate to knot her instead?

No Lies can Keep me Away -Alpha!Klaus

(I will absolutely write that! I love this request so much, however I’m not okay with cheating so Klaus will Not be cheating but he will be ‘leaving’ Caroline for his Omega)

Warning: Mentions of SA while too drunk to consent

They were not together.

Klaus had made that clear to Caroline about 1,000 times. He was an Alpha and he wanted his own Omega, the one that was made just for him. Until then however, Caroline was a fun distraction. Klaus hated being alone, other than when he was painting, and so she was perfect since she was always happy to spend time with him. That is all they were, friends with some benefits.

Klaus had never really considered how far Caroline would go to “keep him” but when he did she was lucky he was too busy to kill her.

Klaus didn’t have many friends, his group was small and just made up of his brother and Caroline’s friends. Elijah was mated to Katherine who was Caroline’s best friend then there was Bonnie and Y/n. Y/n and Caroline were both Omegas and only friends because of Bonnie and Katherine, Omegas almost always hate each other and it was very clear that Caroline was the “dominant” so to speak. Y/n was quiet and always deferred to her friends, following along with what they did even if she didn’t want to. Klaus often felt bad for her, she clearly needed an Alpha, someone to protect her, she was too sweet for her own good and it got her hurt a lot. He would speak up for her much of the time when Caroline went too far like trying to force her into going home with guys from whatever bar they were at when she clearly didn’t want to. It always ended up with Caroline up his ass for “being in love” with her and how he never defends her like that.

Klaus couldn’t help it. Something about Y/n made him protective and he wanted to ensure she was safe. He never expected that to mean anything more than him just wanting to protect the sweet girl, until the morning after finals.

Klaus awoke on the couch to a whimpering sound tugging at his chest, instantly noticing that Caroline was cuddled into his side making him groan. She knew he hated her doing this, hated her pretending they were more than they were and cuddling into him while he’s passed out from a night of drinking. She just wanted to be able to tell everyone they “cuddled all night” and it was one of the things he hated the most. Caroline ended up in his bed after a party a lot, dragging him off to bed and staying the night only for them to both wake up naked. He knew she enjoyed fucking him when he was drunk since he didn’t “treat her like nothing but a simple fuck” as she put it or push her away afterwards but he always felt so grossed out after it happened, like he couldn’t wash the experience away without scraping off his skin. Luckily today they passed out in Katherine’s apartment on the couch and that left no room for her to do anything.

He sat up, pushing a pillow under her head and shoving the blanket off of him, thankfully she was a deep sleeper and he knew she would be out until much later. While he debated on getting coffee he noticed Y/n was up, rushing around trying to find her things and whining nervously letting him know that this was the noise that awoke him. He wasn’t shocked, an Omega in distress had always woken him up, ever since Kol presented and would cry over whatever was bothering him that day, he always had been a weepy Omega.

‘It’s up there.’ He pointed and she jumped, not having realized she wasn’t the only one awake. He pointed to her boot that was, for some reason, on the bookshelf. ‘I’ll get it-‘

‘No!’ She exclaimed and he jumped in surprise, never having known her to be loud…ever. ‘I mean-I’ve got it. Go back to sleep, Caroline will be upset if you leave her alone.’ She stated, reaching high to barely get the shoe from the top shelf, Klaus staring at her ass in those cute shorts which always made his pants tight. He had wished for years that this sweet little Omega could have been his with how strongly she set him on edge. She was just such a perfect Omega that he knew he would live his life jealous of whoever she did end up with while he would probably be stuck with Caroline forever just to avoid loneliness.

‘Fuck that, she doesn’t care when I’m pissed, she can be as upset with me as she wants…classes are over, where are you rushing off to?’ He wondered, the hangover beginning to be too much with the sun coming through the shades.

‘I just have to go home. I have something I have to get by 8 and it’s-Fuck! Bye!’ She exclaimed, not tying her boots as she ran passed him and out the front door. Klaus stood, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet before sliding on his shoes and closing the door behind him to see her leaning against the side of Caroline’s car and groaning.

‘Yeah, we threw that in the fire last night.’ Y/n’s bike had been thrown into the bonfire at some point when Caroline pointed out she wouldn’t need the stupid thing to get to and from classes anymore. ‘Get in, I’ll drive you-‘

‘No! No, you don’t need to. I’ll run, it’s no big deal-‘

‘Y/n! Seriously, you hate running and it’s not a problem. I’m going to get coffee anyway. We’ll go get your stuff and we’ll pick up coffee for everyone on the way back. Get in the car, I’m not taking “no” for an answer.’ She groaned before jumping into the truck and sitting in the back seat as far from him as possible. ‘I’m not a chauffeur love, get up here.’ He teased and grinned when she cracked a smile. ‘You don’t need to be so nervous, she’s not going to hurt you.’ Klaus knew that Caroline hated him being around other Omegas especially alone and that included Y/n, even though he knew her scent and she wasn’t his mate, Caroline didn’t seem to care. She hated him around Y/n most of all, even more than strangers.

‘You clearly don’t know your girlfriend very well.’ She mumbled, arms crossed and leaning away from him against the door in a position that looked painful with how far away she was trying to get.

‘I don’t know how many times I can tell people this, she is Not my girlfriend! Yes, we sleep together sometimes but it’s only ever been because I hate being alone that we’ve hung out together. I feel like I’ve made it very clear to everyone that I’m waiting for my mate and she…she just doesn’t care. It’s honestly annoying, she doesn’t care what I like and don’t like, she does what she wants, like sleeping with me in my bed. I’ve told her not to a billion times but does she listen? No, she just climbs into my bed when I’m drunk as hell and fucks me. She always tells people we’re together and makes me look like an ass when I tell people we’re not. I don’t…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant to you like that, I…I’m sorry.’

‘Klaus…you don’t need to be sorry. I didn’t know, she always said…I didn’t know you were looking for your mate. I-fuck…I’m so sorry.’ Y/n wanted to tell him but after all these years she didn’t know how to…sadly it seemed, she didn’t need to because the universe was going to do it for her. The suppressants that Omegas take need to be ingested within the same hour everyday or they stop working almost immediately, needing a constant supply in their body to keep their scent and heat away. Y/n takes hers every morning before classes at 7am, it was now 8 and as her watch began beeping she moved to turn it off quickly.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have dropped her years ago, I was just scared of not having anyone anymore. The people I hang out with are Caroline’s friends other than Elijah and he’ll do what Katherine says, so will you and Bonnie and I just…I put up with it.’

‘Klaus! She’s sexually assaulting you just so that she can live in a fantasy world where you love her, no one would drop you for that kind of crazy! I…I thought you loved her-I thought…I’m so sorry.’ She couldn’t stop saying it, feeling the need to apologize a billion more times.

Klaus put the car in park as he pulled up outside of her dorm. ‘Please don’t apologize? I’m not-what…what is that smell?’ He questioned and Y/n went rigid.

‘I have to go! I’m not feeling great, I’m just gonna stay in today! Thanks for the ride!’ She rushed her words out before nearly breaking her neck jumping from the truck and slamming the door, sprinting into the dorm leaving Klaus confused and alone to piece things together.

In his defense it only took him a moment of smelling the astounding scent and thinking about what she said and why she was apologizing to figure it all out, the key clue being his forming knot from smelling his Omega for the first time. He was out of the car and in the building in record time before sprinting down the hall to her room, opening the door and seeing her on her bed, tears streaming as she tried to open a pill bottle. Klaus rushed to grab the bottle from her and took it to the bathroom, pouring them into the toilet, Y/n trying to grab the bottle from him.

‘What did you do?!’ She cried, pathetically punching at him for a moment as he flushed them before allowing him to pull her to him and cry against his strong chest. He carried her back into her room and to her nest, allowing her to cry as long as she needed, content as he took in her scent, in a way he never thought he could be. ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’ She mumbled, her voice hoarse from crying.

‘It’s alright. Do you feel better now?’ She shook her head, moving to pull away but he held her tight. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Y/n? You’re my Omega, the most important thing in the world for me-for us…what did you think I was going to do?’

‘I was already on the suppressants when I started school here. When I realized you were…well-‘

‘Your Alpha. You can say it. I’m your Alpha, and you’re my Omega.’ She nodded, looking up at him unsure before he kissed her head.

‘I told Caroline about it as soon as I realized and she said you two were together. That you were in love and I…I didn’t want to ruin that for you. Plenty of people don’t wait for their mates and when she said you had given up looking I just…I wanted you to be happy. She always made it seem like you were and…I’m so sorry!

‘No. No more of that. She lied to us both…no more hiding. Okay?’ Y/n nodded and Klaus pulled her close before pressing his lips to hers. She hesitated but as he tightened his grip on her waist her body melted into his, 4 years of suffering with her Alphas scent under her nose and unable to be with him finally being over. ‘I’m sorry that you had to suffer through that, I should have rid myself of her a long time ago. I’m scared of being alone…it’s embarrassing to admit but putting up with her abuse and crazy bullshit was easier than…I’m-‘

‘If you say “sorry” I’m going to spank you.’ His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face that he could not stop. ‘She hurt you, she lied to you and she-she assaulted you. We both fucked up but I’m happy to blame it all on Caroline since that’s where it all started and as soon as I see her face I’m going to cave it in for ever hurting my Alpha.’ She growled angrily.

‘That was the cutest little growl. Oh my God, you’re so precious!’ He coo’ed, pulling her close to kiss her again just before his phone began ringing. They both groaned, knowing whose ringtone it was as it sang Material Girl by Madonna and Klaus pulled his phone out, silencing the call, kissing her again. He had just pulled her to straddle his lap when her phone began to ring.

‘Okay, you know what? This is just going off.’ She rejected the call, blocking Caroline’s number and turning off her phone, her Alpha laughing and joining her immediately.

‘She’s going to lose her mind.’ He laughed, feeling a tad giddy, enjoying the idea of making her as upset as she constantly made him. ‘You smell wonderful, you know that?’ His nose found it’s way back to her neck and he enjoyed the little giggle she let slip, usually being so quiet. ‘Don’t you ever hide this from me again…wanna scent you for the rest of my life.’

‘Whenever you want Alpha, all yours.’ She purred, snuggling in close.

‘It won’t be long now that you missed the suppressants, your heat will probably start by tomorrow.’ He told her, moving to take off her jacket and shoes as well as his own before pulling the comforter over them in the already chilled room but making a mental note to make it colder as she would probably begin sweating in the night. Good thing about Omega dorms, they always (legally have to) have amazing air conditioning units. All Omega dorms had to have the option of killer AC with how hot they get at all times but especially during their heat. Her nest was cozy and wonderfully scented, he would be shocked if he could ever summon the willpower to leave it.

‘Please don’t leave? I don’t-‘

‘No Omega, I’m not going anywhere. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want but I will be here to take care of you. I’m going to do it right now, I promise. For now, you need to sleep. You’re hung over, dehydrated and sleep deprived, drink for me.’ He instructed as he got a bottle of water from the mini fridge beside the bed and had her drink half of it.

‘Don’t torture yourself okay?’ He looked at her questioningly, not understanding what she meant. ‘I want you, don’t get all dumb wondering if I would want you to touch me, you can help me through it…if you want to.’ She rushed out and Klaus just smiled. ‘I know maybe being with someone is uncomfortable for you and if all you want is to just be here with me then that’s okay, don’t torture yourself either way.’

Klaus was touched. Not only was she willing to trust him to do as her Alpha should and rut her through her heat but she is willing to suffer without it if he isn’t comfortable after everything Caroline had done to him. ‘No one has ever been that understanding before. I’m okay, I promise, I will always take care of you Omega…I’ve been looking for you for so long and you’ve been here under my nose for 4 years…you’re mine now. I’m stealing you and you’re gonna come and live with me. Got my fathers huge house in Damascus Virginia in the mountains, small town, quiet…everything you want if I remember correctly?’ Y/n was instantly stunned that he had remembered that. ‘I always paid attention. Didn’t like Caroline being cruel to you, turns out she always was anyway and she was using me to do it…‘

‘Virginia it is. Nice place to have a family.’ Klaus’ eyes widen at that thought.

‘You want to have my pups?’ She nodded and he groaned, feeling his cock swell as he pulled her closer, her back now against his chest. ‘I admit, I’ve thought about you swollen with my pups before, look so fucking gorgeous! Gonna be the death of me, Omega…just let your Alpha hold you baby. You need rest before your heat, can’t have you feeling even worse, can I?’

‘My good Alpha, so sweet to me.’ She turned to bury her face into Klaus’ chest and he groaned, holding her to him tightly and waiting until he heard that soft little snore that he knew she made before allowing himself to fall asleep.

They were both awoken (according to the clock) 2 hours later to a loud banging on the door.

‘The TA will make her stop if we just ignore it, it’s alright.’ Klaus mumbled, assuming it was Caroline as he pulled a blanket over their heads before hearing a familiar voice.

‘Niklaus! I know you’re in there, your phone is off! What’s going on, come on?!’ Klaus huffed, kissing her head and moving to speak to Elijah, only to open the door and find his brother along with his girlfriend and Caroline who looked ready to spit venom.

‘Really Elijah? You knew I was avoiding her and you did this? This is why I don’t trust you!’ He growled, moving to slam the door before Caroline caught it, shoving her way in.

‘You! You stole my mate, you little Knot-Hole!’ Everyone in the room reacted to that, even Elijah and Kat being shocked at the derogatory slur that is not permitted on school grounds-let alone to be used to others mates and doing so has gotten people really hurt.

‘If you ever call her that again...’ Klaus warned, stepping around her to get between them when she got too close to the bed. ‘Do not touch her nest, get the fuck out of our room. I don’t need to tell you anything about Y/n and I because you and I were never together. I am not, nor have I ever been your boyfriend, let alone your mate you delusional cunt!’

‘You’re just being cruel now!’ She cried, trying to get sympathy as always though even Kat was unsure what to do after what Caroline had called their friend-another Omega at that. An Omega using that word at all-let alone against another Omega was unheard of.

‘We never dated! Not once, for one singular day! I fucked you because I was lonely and you were fun for a while and I don’t care how cruel that sounds because you knew the deal from day 1. That wasn’t what you wanted though because then you told everyone we were mates even though you knew I was desperately searching for my real Omega, and you kept crawling into my bed which you knew I hated. Then you started fucking me when I was too drunk to push you off just so you could sleep with me without me shoving you away and “treating you like a simple fuck”! And Now I Find Out-You’ve been Lying to Y/n about us to keep her from telling me the truth for 4 years! She’s my Omega! Not a fun night, not a girlfriend to waste time with, My Omega! You’re a manipulative, slutty cunt and I want you out of our room and out of my life! You can also be damn sure I will be telling everyone exactly what you are.’

‘Yeah, a fucking rapist…’ Y/n scoffed, Caroline glaring and baring her fangs at the shy girl that she knew would never defend herself.

‘Shut your lying, thief mouth! You Stole my Alpha! What kind of a friend are you-‘

‘You stole mine for 4 years, right back at you whore.’ Everyone was shocked in that moment, never having heard the sweet creature say anything like that before.

‘Oh. Now that you have what’s mine behind you, you think you’re all big and bad? No, you’re still a useless little Fuckhole that nobody has ever wanted. He’ll come back to me when he realizes how useless you are-‘ Caroline was cut off as her ex best friend launched herself forward from the nest and took her to the floor, beating her violently and digging her claws into her face in a vicious attack.

‘You’re a dirty fucking rapist and if you ever come near him again I will cut you up so bad they’ll never get all the pieces together again, you filthy fucking whore-I-‘

She got no more words out as her Alphas arms wrapped around her and lifted her off the bloody mess that Caroline once called a face. ‘Enough Omega, Shh, it’s okay. She’s going, you’re alright!’ He put her back into her nest and grabbed the baby wipes he kept in his bag for his future Omega (along with hair ties, chapstick and a pad for surprise heat symptoms), quickly beginning to clean off the blood from her claws.

Neither Elijah nor Katherine moved to help Caroline no matter how much she whined. ‘Kat…’

‘Don’t Kat me, I’m not having you think you can climb on top of my man next. Get the fuck away from me.’ She growled, grabbing the blonde by her hair and dragging her into the hallway, Klaus moving to watch the Omega be dropped in a pathetic pile in the dorm hall. ‘I was recording cause I thought it would be funny to watch Klaus get told off but I’ll give it to the cops cause she definitely needs an ambulance.’ Katherine chuckled maliciously. ‘I’m sorry for everything Klaus, I wish you would have just told us the truth, we would have gotten rid of her years ago. You and I may not be best friends but we’re family and that shit is not okay.’ Kat moved to hug him, stopping 3 steps away as Y/n hissed out a warning that was instantly enough.

‘We’ll deal with the police. They won’t bother you until her heat is over. Text me if you need anything, I’ll bring you your meals for the week, least I can do.’ Elijah offered and Klaus agreed.

‘Thank you brother. If you could bring some protein bars and some juice later tonight, that would be great, I need to rehydrate her after last night.’

‘Of course. I’ll bring some of your favorite snacks too. Anything else, just t-‘ Elijah cut himself off, his eyes dilating as he was overcome with a thick, heavy scent coming from the nest that he was the closest to, Klaus moving to grab him and shove him out at a breakneck speed.

‘Text me when you’re here later tonight, bring me some of my clothes and my fan from my dorm room as well.’ He rushed out before shutting the door behind him. He knew air blowing directly on her as she’s like this would be good for her and as he turned around and noticed her sweating he’s glad he did. ‘Your heat hit you faster than we expected, huh?’ Klaus teased and Y/n just whined making grabby hands at him before he pulled off his clothes and crawled into the nest. ‘Don’t worry Omega, Alpha is here for you-‘

‘Knot! Knot Alpha! Need it, Please?!’ She pleaded, moving to present herself for him only to have him stop her and pin her on her back. It wasn’t the best position to ensure pregnancy but that didn’t matter to him, he needed to care for his Omega and they hadn’t been together once yet. He refused to take her like that the first time. ‘Alpha-‘

‘Shh…relax pet. I’m right here. Alphas gonna give you what you want.’ He promised, as he kissed her lips softly, lining his cock up with her soaking wet pussy and easing in, keeping her hips from forcing him deeper. His knot was already swelling and Klaus pulled her legs up to bottom out inside of her, her hips humping up into him. ‘Is my pretty Omega gonna cum on my cock already? Such a needy little thing.’ He teased as if he wasn’t seconds from spewing his own end which is exactly what happened 10 seconds later when she squeezed him almost painfully, his knot locking into place as it’s supposed to.

‘Yes…my knot…mine-‘

‘All yours Princess-nobody else’s-never given it to anybody. Alphas gonna knot you so much tonight people won’t know where you start and I end…all mine. No one will ever keep you from me again Omega, I promise.’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[mickyschumacher]

can you please do a Carlos imagine where Carlos and Y/N are out partying after a race. Y/N gets approached by a drunk and inappropriate guy who either trys to touch her says some inappropriate things, and Carlos steps in. He’s the crazy protective boyfriend, and he ends up getting into a fight with the guy. Carlos gets cut by a broken beer bottle during the fight, so Y/N gets to care for his wound, and basically gets to play nurse on Carlos

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after winning the australian grand prix, carlos and you decide to take on some partying. what you didn't expect was to end the night nursing your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slightly suggestive at the end (16+), depictions of blood and fighting, reader is harassed by creepy ugly disgusting man, mentions of alcohol, small consolation, poor humour, google translated spanish by yours truly, fluff, and lastly, shitty proof-reading

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x girlfriend!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.3k

𝐀/𝐍: so so sorry it took this long! i didn't go fully for smut because idk if you wanted it but i'm happy to make a part two in the near future! hope you enjoyed it ♡︎

𝐀/𝐍: welcome to my drabble/blurb phase because i, for the life, of me cannot produce long fics consistently despite constantly having ideas! although i am redefining the meaning of drabbles and blurbs with this word count :)

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Australian Grand Prix. The third race into the season. Max had won the last two, predictably setting the tone for the rest of the year. Carlos, on the other hand, needed to up his game.

You were together when you found out he had lost his seat for the following year. Boy, were you gutted. Carlos had done everything in his power, forever compared to Ferrari's golden boy. He liked Charles, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with this type of treatment? And to make matters worse, Lewis was a great driver pulling great results in shit car.

Carlos needed to win. He needed to be the most wanted in that damn paddock. And while Max was winning so far, the universe often has it's odd ways.

Even if that was in the form of fiery flames on Max's brakes in the opening laps.

You remembered it as clear as day.

You were in as much disbelief as anyone else, eyes widened as Max's car slowed, grey smoke billowing out of the rear while even the Haas and Williams surpassed him.

Your eyes hesitantly moved to the large screens in the garage, zoning in on the number one row to see Carlos' name sprawled next to it. A gasp fell from your lips, eyes averting to a shouting Oñoro before you hugged each other with shaky hands.

Your heart was in your ears, thudding in echoes. Hands sticky at your sides as you watched the the last lap. You knew the outcome. Yet you couldn't stomach it. With a tight throat, you weren't sure if you going to throw up or break into tears.

Instead of your heartbeat, you found the roars of Ferrari deafening. Flashes of white cameras mixed with the air as the sun warmed your golden boy. Looking up through your lashes, you caught his gleaming smile before catching the feel of his lips on yours.

Carlos had won. He was the most wanted driver in the damn paddock.

And that deserved a celebration.

You and Carlos weren't ones for partying. Not unless it was with the right people. And there was nothing more right than a Grand Prix winner and all his supporters in one place.

It was packed. Bodies so close together, full of sweaty rivulets amongst the humidity and strobe lights. The music felt foundational as it coursed from your feet and into your veins.

Carlos watched you dance in front of him. You were remarkable. Skin so flushed that in even in the flickering lights, you radiated. Your hair stuck to your glittering skin, but nowhere near as close as the dress you had worn for him.

He smiled softly at the cheeky gaze your gave him, large hand reaching out to grab your waist. His cheek skimmed your face as he pressed a kiss onto your cheek. "You're killing me."

"All in a day's work," you quipped, hanging your hands around his neck. You could hear Carlos' huff of amusement over the pulsing music. You held those brown puppy eyes, drinking them in, you smiled. "I'm proud of you, cariño."

The humour on his face faded, replaced by a moment of fulfilment. His other hand moved to caress your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. His thumb moved in small soothing circles. "Thank you."

His words sounded like a whisper in the loudness, but you could hear how much it meant to him as much as you could see it.

You lifted your head up, bringing your lips to his. Carlos' grip on your waist tightened, his own lips quirking into a smile as you kissed him with the entirety of your heart. Gone was any trace of alcohol or humidity in the air. All you could feel, smell, and taste was Carlos. And you loved it.

Breathlessly, you begrudgingly moved away from Carlos, taking a moment to come up for air.

"Let me get you a drink, hermosa," Carlos offered, grinning at the jut of your lips as you pouted. "I'll be back soon. Fastest pitstop ever."

You laughed loudly, throwing your head back, entirely unaware of the mystical trance you had brought Carlos into. With the nod of your head, you gestured for him to go on.

Watching the retreating figure of Carlos, you found yourself amused and entertained at the sight of Lando's valiant DJing efforts. Another driver who was enjoying his first podium of the year.

You were only moving lightly to the music, waiting for Carlos with little patience. But the sudden cold shiver that had travelled up your body had set the alarms off in your mind. Your throat felt dry at the unfamiliar hand on your shoulder and your body felt uneasy upon looking at the sleazy stranger.

"Hello, sweetheart! How are you doing?" The Australian accent was exceptionally loud over the music and the alcohol reeked, particularly from the beer bottle in his hand.

You winced, trying to keep a fake smile at bay. "Great," you murmured, attempting to move your shoulder away from him but the man's fingers were latched.

"Aw, now don't be like that," he retorted, taking a step closer to you. "Let's dance... get to know each other a little, hmm?"

The hairs of your body stood straight. "I... my boyfriend will be here soon, then we can get to know each other."

You wanted to shrivel into a ball at the sickening laugh that had fallen from the stranger's lips. "Oh, he doesn't need to know anything. Come on, baby," he egged, bottled-hand suddenly finding your waist, "can't you feel how much I want you?"

Bile found it's way up your throat but you managed to keep it down. "No, I don't," you said sharply, "you need to leave."

You tried to move your hands away from him, pushing at his chest, but his grip was only getting tighter, moving down your body in the most repulsing manner. What the hell? Suddenly you felt like you were all alone in this club. Where the hell was everyone?

"She said leave."

You snapped your head to the familiar Spanish voice, relief flooding into your system but only momentarily as the scenario escalated at an unearthly speed.

Your eyes widened, feeling a mix of warm and cold air rush past your body as the stranger was ripped off of you and thrown to the ground. Shit.

You couldn't gather what was even going on. Carlos was straddling the man, pummelling him repeatedly. The music, you think, has stopped. A crowd had formed. Lando and Oñoro had quickly made their way, trying to diffuse the situation.

Your heart skipped a few beats as Carlos took a few hits himself. And the sound of glass shattering bordered on you having a heart attack. Fuck, fuck, this was bad. You could see people pull out their phones, recording, which only baffled you even more.

You aided Oñoro in pulling Carlos away, sucking in a sharp breath at the string of angry curses falling your boyfriend's mouth, moving between English to Spanish. "¡Jodido gilipollas! ¿Quién coño te crees que eres? That's my girlfriend, you creep. ¡Nunca la toques con esas asquerosas manos! ¡Te joderé si te vuelvo a ver!" Fucking asshole! Who the fuck do you think you are? That's my girlfriend, you creep. Don't ever touch her with those disgusting hands! I will fuck you up if I ever see you again!"

"Es suficiente, Carlos," you appeased, urging him to stay away as you began to spot the runs of blood down the sides of his face and neck, mixed in with the loose beer. That's enough, Carlos.

You still weren't sure what was going on. You had no idea where Oñoro had gone after sending you and Carlos to your hotel room because, God forbid, Carlos' PR team had a lot of work to do, legally and socially.

Lando had briefly dropped in, grabbing a first aid kid from the hotel staff before leaving with Oñoro.

You quietly watched Carlos walk into the room, towel wrapped around his waist, water covering his body as he had washed off all the beer and blood.

Carlos captured the pained look on your face, eyeing the patches of red skin across his chest and the nicks on his face. He sighed, holding in a wince as he sat next to you. "I'm fine, hermo–"

"You are an idiot," you cut him off, handing him the ice pack you had made from the hotel's materials. "Hold this on your chest, it'll reduce the swelling."

You leaned in the further, trying to take a better look at him. A frown made it's way onto your face. The more you looked, the worse you felt. The red patches on his chest, the bruised cheek, and the worst of all, the horrid gash across his hand.

Carlos carefully watched you chew your lip, tediously grabbing his injured hand, inspecting the wound. The pain which had gotten worse in midst of his shower quickly began to dissipate at your touch. If there was any stinging pain, he couldn't feel it, even when you had cleaned the gash.

"Why didn't you call me?" Carlos queried, breaking the thick silence that had been held over you.

You paused your cleaning, briefly flickering your eyes to his face before quickly averting in the fear you would be sucked up into a whole new problem in those luring brown eyes. Furrowing your brows, you resumed. "I had it under control," you lied with a determined stubbornness.

Carlos laughed softly in amusement before wincing at the stretch of his bruised cheek. He sighed. "I don't doubt that you did," he started, hand reaching out to gently move your chin towards him, "but you should've come and found me. Or even Oñoro or Lando."

You couldn't help but return a sigh, hesitantly putting the antiseptic onto his hand, awaiting any jerking reaction. You realised he was waiting for some sort of response, ignoring any pain shooting up his fingers. "I know," you told him, "I just... froze."

Carlos softened his eyes. "Cãrino... I'm sorry you had to go through that. I-I should've stayed. Are you okay?"

You gave him a pointed look. He had already asked you that, mere seconds after you had pulled him away from the fight. You held back an eye roll at the raised brows Carlos gave you. "I'm fine, Carlos. I'm not the one beat up."

"If I got there any later..." Carlos trailed off, unsure if he was sick or angry at the thought.

You paused, almost falling into the same train of thought but you shook it off. You grabbed the roll of bandage, unravelling the strip of white around his hand. "But you didn't," you reassured, giving him a small smile. Carlos smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Can we exterminate men?"

A laugh quickly fell from your lips at the question. God, how many times have you thought about that one before?

You finished wrapping the bandage, tying a small secure knot before grabbing the ice pack from his other hand. Inching closer to him, you gently pressed the ice on his cheek. "And what about you then?"

Carlos raised a brow, using his free hand to pull you onto his lap. You gasped at the coldness on your waist as waves of cold flushed your body. "I'm excluded from this... obviously."

"Obviously," you repeated, rolling your eyes. "Are you sure though? Because I wouldn't mind it," you teased.

"Really?" Carlos narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer to you. "You wouldn't mind no kisses, no hugs, no... touches?"

All of a sudden your throat felt dry at his words. His cold fingers ghosting down the side of your neck with a following trail of goosebumps. And yet you felt hot.

You pretended to ponder for a minute, trying your absolute best to ignore the brown eyes watching you or the fingers grazing your chest. "I think I'm okay with it," you whispered.

Carlos stopped moving his hand and gave you a dry look. "Well I'm not," he childishly retorted before bringing his lips to yours.

His lips were soft as per usual, taking you by surprise with the intensity of this kiss. You could feel his arm tighten around your waist, warmth spreading across your body as his bandaged hand gently held your face.

You were melting at his touch. His tongue was navigating your mouth, consuming your very being. You could feel his hand adjust you on his lap, letting you feel something else entirely.

Carlos' breath hitched at the feel of you hand snaking up his bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where he was aching the most. His hand shot out, covering your own through the towel he was wearing.

You parted from his lips, raising a brow with a panting chest. You could see his lust-ridden eyes, practically begging for you do to do more.

"Take it back."

You mended your brows. What on earth was he... oh.... oh.

With a firm sigh, you relented. "Fine, you won't be exterminated. I guess... it would be hard to live without you."

Carlos grinned, satisfied with your answer. "True... and we would have the hardest job of all."

"And what's that?" You asked, eagerly awaiting his response with perked ears.

Carlos' injury-free hand stretched out, moving your hair behind your ears before grazing past your cheek and landing on your lips. He smiled widely. "To repopulate the earth, hermosa."

You gasped, instinctively hitting his chest. "Carlos!"

The Spaniard dramatically winced at the action, holding his bandaged hand to his chest.

"Mierda," you cursed, "I'm so sorry, cariño." Your eyes darted around, ensuring you hadn't made anything worse.

Carlos tapped your thigh, directing your attention to him. "Can we go back to repopulating the earth now?"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[luveline]

I love anything strangers to lovers with James, something with him maybe coming to a muggle pub with the guys and coming over to talk to you, trying to be all suave but entirely relying on everything muggle studies has taught him and like mixing weird things up but he’s still so endearing you kinda don’t care

ty for requesting❤️

James is holding Remus’ hand when he sees you. They’re being touchy and weird because there’s nobody around to see it but strangers, aware that it’s a little too touchy but uncaring. The drinks they’ve had makes it less overly friendly and more this man is my best friend in the whole world. 

He sees you and abruptly drops Remus’ hand. 

“James,” Remus says, pulling his hand back. 

“Sorry, but– but look!” He gestures to you, leaning down as though this might stop you seeing him before he’s ready. 

You’re really something. In a group of friends two tables and what looks like fifteen chairs, too many bodies, you’re hanging back with your glass held to your chest, giggling at someone’s loud joke. You’re so pretty James feels it in his chest, like woah! Like, he has to talk to you. Maybe it’s the way you’re smiling as you laugh, he loves it. 

The longer he looks, the more convinced he becomes. 

“What are we looking at?” Sirius asks, back at the table with a new drink. 

Remus quickly takes it. “It’s who are we looking at,” he corrects. “There’s a girl over there James likes the look of.” 

“She’s gorgeous. I’m going.” 

Neither friend tries to stop him. James isn’t drunk nor stupid, and he’s not a bad flirt. Not that every girl he tries to talk to wants to talk back, but he isn’t disrespectful or grim. 

He tries not to overthink it. 

“Hi, ladies,” he says, directing his hello to your little gaggle off the main group. You sit between two other women, all smiling politely as he speaks up. “What are you guys doing out tonight?” 

“It’s my birthday,” you say. 

“It is?” he asks, surprised. “Happy birthday! You aren’t wearing a badge?” 

“It’ll poke holes in my shirt.” 

He nods solemnly. “Well, never mind it. Are you having a good night?” 

“I would be, if the person feeding the jukebox would stop playing Bee Gee’s,” you say. 

Feeding the jukebox, James repeats in his head. He looks around for some sort of animal but doesn’t find one, nor does he spot any games of Bee Gee’s. “People are terrible pet owners these days,” he says. 

You laugh like a riot, so he must’ve said something right. “Only an animal would play disco!” you agree, standing up suddenly. “I need another drink. Are you coming with me, or did you fancy someone else?” 

James grins. “I’m coming with you, please.” 

He sees the little twitch on your smile that shows you’re pleased; you aren’t as confident as you’re trying to appear, and your question had been a brave one. James will try to reward your courage. 

“Do you come here often?” he asks, following you through tight tables and down a step to the bar. 

“Only on birthdays.” You grin as he shields you from a passerby. “What about you?” 

“Here? Never in my life! It’s quaint though, I love the taps and the posters and the pork scratchings!”

“They don’t have pork scratchings at home? Where are you from?” 

He shrugs. “Somewhere awful. They don’t have birthday girls half as pretty as you are back there. Did you get anything nice for your struggle?” 

“What, the struggle of getting older?” You lift your chin. “Do I look like I’ve struggled? In ageing?” 

“You look like you’ve been deprived of a drink. What’s your favourite?” 

“Can you guess?” 

James slows with you, just shy of the bar. What a peculiar thing to ask. Maybe muggles play this game, maybe this is a flirting ritual. James chooses the prettiest drink for a nice looking girl. “A French seventy five,” he suggests. 

“What’s that?” 

“Gin and champagne, mostly.” 

“I don’t know about that one.” 

James grins. “A cherry spritzer, then. Ice, a little sugar, cherries on the rim. You look like you like cherries.” 

James buys you a cherry spritzer with extra cherries —it’s your birthday. You say thank you twice and sip it at the bar as he nurses a cold dark thatchers, your elbows touching. James briefly notes how you compliment one another in the mirror above the wines. He tries to catch your eye in it, but gets distracted when the TV box above it changes colour. 

“Do you watch the football?” you ask, noticing his gaze. 

“Oh, yeah. Love football. Weird shape for a ball, but. Do you like it?” 

You take a second to answer, “Well, what about rugby?” 

He’s more familiar with rugby, they talked a great deal about it in muggle studies. “I love rugby! All the scrums and scrimmages.”

“Do you play?” 

“Um, no.” 

“Well, you must play something.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” he jokes. 

“You look active!” 

“What do you like?” he asks, happy to change the subject and learn more about you at the same time. 

“I like lots of stuff, mostly books. Oh, I like karaoke,” you say. “I’m not very good.” 

James knows what karaoke is. “I bet you are. It’s about patience, right? Filling in all those little boxes. I can’t get behind the numbers part, I’m terrible at arithmetic.” 

You look at him like he’s grown two heads. You don’t mean to, he can tell, because your expression immediately clouds with guilt, and then something kinder. He likes fondness on you, and he loves for it to be directed at him. 

“I’m terrible at maths, too,” you say, smiling, nearly shy. “Do you want to get a table with me?”

“Did I say something wrong, before?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

It’s much later with his hand behind your neck when he realises the numbers game is sudoku, not karaoke. He laughs against your open mouth. You ask him what’s so funny, but the warmth of your breath on his lips has him forgetting.

(James was a tad weird, you think that night, his phone number on the back of one of your birthday cards and your lips still fizzing, but he’d been earnest even in kissing, and for that you can’t complain.)

[barcaatthemoon]

fireball || alexia putellas x reader ||

Alexia learns firsthand why you don't drink often.

The shots that many bars in vacation areas gave were much bigger than the shots that you wereused to. Alexia had warned you of this several times, and yet, you still hadn't slowed down one bit. The two of you were still in Barcelona for the night, but she had indulged you in letting the two of you go to one of the places only tourists sought out. It was a bit gimmicky and most of the staff spoke primarily English. Alexia hated it, but you absolutely loved it.

"Ale, come dance with me!" Alexia stared at you skeptically. You could barely stand up straight, having nearly fallen twice as you tried to get another drink at the bar.

"One dance, and then we have to go amor," Alexia told you. You nodded, more than happy to leave with Alexia. However, you didn't realize that Alexia wasn't taking you home for the reasons that you wanted her to. She needed to get you in a bed for some sleep, but you could feel a subtle hum in between your legs as Alexia held you for the dance.

You tried and failed to dance on Alexia to seduce her, instead managing to nearly fall onto the ground. Alexia caught you and simply carried you out of the club. You would have normally protested, but you were more than enjoying the view of Alexia's ass as she carried you over her shoulder.

"You're so strong. Will you hold me up against the wall and fuck me?" you asked her. Alexia's jaw dropped at how nonchalantly you asked her that. You were definitely the bashful one in your relationship, often trying to bat Alexia away when she started kissing you in public. For you to just say that on a busy night street where anybody could hear was a sign that Alexia should have made you stop drinking an hour ago.

"Amor, you are very drunk. I would not feel right taking advantage of you in this state," Alexia told you as she helped you into the car. You whined and pouted, nearly on the verge of tears as you mumbled incoherently. Alexia sighed as she realized just how long of a night she was in with you. It wasn't often that you even drank a glass of wine with dinner, much less got drunk. She had learned on a trip with your national team that you were a legendary drunk, hundreds of stories coming from just a couple handfuls of nights.

Alexia thanks whatever powers in the universe she needed to that you willingly let her carry you inside. You seemed eager to get out of the car, and you managed to make the ride without getting sick. Alexia knew that it was only a matter of time, most of the alcohol you had been drinking was cheap and full of sugar. Still, you had enjoyed yourself, and that was the whole point of tonight. Alexia had given you the green light to do whatever you wanted, promising that she'd stay sober to take care of you.

"Ale, now that we're home, we can do shots!" you cheered. You made a beeline for the kitchen, but Alexia stopped you. She held onto your waist as she guided you to the couch to sit down.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," Alexia told you. You pouted, but sat there anyway. She grabbed a couple of snacks that she knew you liked whenever you'd been drinking and a bottle of water. It was a struggle to get you to drink the water, claiming that it would completely ruin your buzz.

"I can't believe that Alexia Putellas has regular chips. You always get on me for snacks," you pouted. Alexia sighed, not having the heart to tell you that she kept those around for you. You stayed on top of your fitness better than anybody Alexia had ever met, so she didn't see the harm in keeping a couple of little snacks for you around at her place. It had been early in your relationship when she asked if your snacks were approved by the nutritionist, long before she knew how hard you really worked.

"Maybe you're a bad influence," Alexia teased. That seemed to be the wrong move as your eyes began to well up with tears. Alexia quickly backtracked, but as she continued to talk, Alexia noticed that your attention was elsewhere. "Amor, you aren't getting sick are you?"

"I don't like this," you said as you pulled your top off. Alexia quickly covered her eyes, despite having openly stared as you got dressed earlier that day.

"Why are you undressing?" Alexia asked, slightly panicked.

"Because it's hot. And I'm hot. God, it's almost the winter, and I am baking Ale!" you exclaimed. Alexia rolled her eyes as she dropped her hand, unsurprised to see every bit of your clothing on the ground. "Let's go to bed."

"Are you just going to sleep naked?" You nodded as you stumbled your way towards Alexia's bedroom. Alexia followed you in and watched as you fumbled your way through your nighttime routine. Alexia tried to help where she could, but you were stubborn about doing it yourself. Alexia went through her own routine and found you asleep in bed by the time that she was halfway through the second step.

[marycorcaroli]

NSFW HEADCANONS.

characters: kenshi takahashi, sub-zero, liu kang.

words count: 1626.

warning: fem!reader only, pussy drunk kenshi, creampie, big dicks, talking during sex, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding king, maybe size kink, cuddle-fucking, missionary, cowgirl, dirty talk, full-nelson.

mary ♡: hope u like it ! english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes ♡

rules ; masterlist.

SUB-ZERO (BI-HAN).

— despite how he looks and how he talks, bi-han is quite gentle in bed with you and doesn't want to have too much control over you, he knows that he can intimidate you too much and maybe you will become afraid of him, which will literally kill him. he wants to show you his love that he can't put into words, but his gentle touches and sweet kisses will do the trick.

— he's not the loudest during sex, i think he's just afraid to make any sounds, but he wants to hear you all the time, the way your mouth opens and the sounds that come out of it make his cock move inside you even more. if he sees that you like the way he whimpers or moans, he'll never shut up.

– i think he's pretty shameless and will definitely tell you what he wants to do to you and describe it in every color.

— he is crazy about your breasts and how they look in his palms and the way your nipples harden just from his breath elevates his ego to the heavens. bi-han will suck your tits all the time, he just can't stop and wants to do it all the time. loves to run his tongue over it and leave his drool (he's so dirty and needy 100% canon), will probably leave hickeys around your boobs and then stare at them forever. you can be sitting with friends and he'll just say in your ear that he wants to suck your boobs and you'll be like "wtf??? u ok???"

— a fan of eye contact.

— loves to humiliate, but he'll never go too far and bring you to tears, you're too precious to him, so he mixes it up with kind words to let you know you're still the best.

"where's my favorite, slut? hey, eyes on me, baby."

"show me how much you want that cock inside you and maybe i'll make you feel good."

"don't you dare make a sound, got it? or do you want to be heard? you're that dirty, aren't you, honey?"

— he doesn't have a favorite position, anything where you achieve pleasure and love each other is fine, he likes to touch you, so he doesn't like tying you up or too much bdsm, too much spanking that will leave bruises on you or too much hickeys, no matter how much he loves you, he doesn't want anyone to know about your intimate life, but still, the position he uses most often is cuddle-fucking.

— either he's your sweetest lover who is gently pounding into you, kissing the corners of your lips and whispering sweet nothings, or he's your daddy and wants you to moan loudly for him while he's trying to beat the hell out of you and get rid of the stress.

— he is obviously bigger than you and every time you stand next to him and he sees your difference, he gets blown away and you're already on the bed.

— his favorite kinks are size kink(!), voice kink and dirty talk kink.

— the biggest and thickest cock of all three of them, i just know it and i know that his cock is constantly throbbing when he sees you. bi-han knows that before he enters you he needs to warm you up good because well...his cock is really big, i'm afraid it will rip absolute anyone.

— loves to cuddle you after sex and kiss your whole face, he will take good care of you and change all the stuff you got dirty. he wants to fall asleep in your arms and listen to your heartbeat that helps him sleep and think what he did to deserve you.

KENSHI TAKAHASHI.

— i think he's pretty gentle and doesn't want to force you into things. will insist on your wishes and what you want to do the most. he won't mind if you tell him you want to tie him up, he'll be only too happy.

— based on what he can't see, it will be a little hard for him and kenshi will constantly think he's doing something wrong and if he hears that you're hurting, um, he'll go crazy. but i know it won't come to that. kenshi loves you and respects everything you've done for him, so he wants to repay you in the most wonderful ways every time.

— kenshi can't live a day without licking you and tasting you. He loves the way you wiggle his tongue and the beautiful sounds you make, he's in heaven because of you. kenshi dreams of meeting you after a hard day and asking you to sit on his face so you can get rid of the stress and soak his face in your juices. i think kenshi likes any position where he can suck your clit and kiss your folds.

— he doesn't have the fastest pace, more like a medium pace so you can enjoy this beautiful moment. but if you ask him he will go wild, even with a blindfold he will make sure you can't walk normally the next day. he loves you so he will take care of you ♡

— not the biggest fan of hickeys, he likes kissing your skin and saying nice words more.

— words ! kenshi loves it when you talk during sex and you tell him about how good you feel and how his cock was made for your cunnie. he's still not the most confident so he needs your words of encouragement, but he'll be sure to praise you too.

"ahhh, where's my beautiful girl? you're so good for me, thank you, honey."

"come for me, baby, show daddy how much you love him."

"you understand, don't you? you were made for me and i was made for you and it's the best thing that ever happened to me."

— he can cum anywhere, anything you want, he doesn't really care and wants you to like everything, but kenshi dreams of cumming in you and imagines what your child will be like, but...that's another conversation.

— i don't think he has the biggest dick, but he's not the smallest either. he's been with girls before, i'm sure he knows how to handle it and get you shaking.

— kenshi's kinks: daddy kink, praise kink, breeding king, maybe size kink.

— he likes poses where he can kiss your face and he would love to see it and see the emotions you show, but he also wouldn't mind if you ride him aggressively. for him, the top is missionary, full-nelson and maybe cowgirl.

— he may want to try public sex but will never say so, it turns him on that someone will see you and see how well he fucks you, but your bed looks more comfortable still.

— he will take excellent care of you afterwards and will do everything at the highest level. for starters he will lie with you and kiss you on the forehead to let you know how proud he is of you. he will take a bath with you and give you a good bath. he only needs words and nothing else, he is grateful that after everything that happened you are still here and let him love you.

LIU KANG.

— and finally we have reached the most beautiful man. liu kang is a true gentleman and will faithfully wait for you to want to feel all of him, and if you don't want anything, it's okay, he won't pressure you and will instead cuddle with you for a long time.

— he obviously knows how to bring a woman to a euphoric orgasm and he's going to try it out on you. he likes to see you whimpering under him and asking him to move his fingers faster, but he doesn't want to, he likes to see what a mess you're becoming and he hasn't even gotten his cock out yet.

— he likes any part of your body and will idolize everything, but your neck and shoulders have a special effect on him when he leaves kisses and feels the goosebumps on your skin and the way you immediately want more, wow, he's crazy.

— moans for you, makes the wettest noises, whimpers, he does everything and he's not ashamed, why should he keep quiet? you make him feel so good and he wants you to hear it. really, really loves talking to you during and sex and kissing you between words.

"i don't think anyone has ever evoked the same emotions in me as you have, love, i'm so glad i met you."

"do you feel good, baby? do you want me to speed up?"

"baby, you're squeezing me so hard, i'm afraid i'm gonna cum right now, haha."

— he has a lot of favorite positions and he wants to try them with you. i think liu kang practices tying you up, but not too much so you don't get hurt. he likes to fuck you in the missionary position and then watch you ride him fast and fall off from overstimulation.

— even though he looks like a man who likes sex in public places - he really likes it, haha. wouldn't mind pleasuring you in a restaurant restroom, massaging your cunnie while you talk to your friends and taking you on a picnic where he will lick your pussy and then sit u on his face while you gently suck his throbbing cock.

— he doesn't have a lot of kinks or on the contrary too many, i still haven't really figured it out, but he likes - dirty talk, overstimulation kink and riding kink (he likes the way your tits shake when you ride him).

— the most usual medium pace, enjoying your moment and he has no rush, you have forever ahead of you and he will still have time to thrust into you from behind with all his might and pull your hair while you forget how many orgasms you have already gone through.

— the sweetest when the time comes to take care of you after sex. he will change your bed, give you a massage and bring you anything you want. you did a good job for him and now it's his turn to take care of you.

[russellsppttemplates]

https://www.tumblr.com/goldenboygate/748927575652515840?source=share

How about a blurb of happy tipsy/drunk Lando and reader on the boat and he's extra clingy and saying sweet funny things? Bonus points if she's caring for his bloody nose and he's looking at her with the gloomy sparkly eyes (we have all seen the pictures 👀🫣)

Note: the more content I see from this day, the more I think this is going in the books 😅

Cw: mentions a cut, blood, alcohol consumption

"Fill mine, please!", Lando asked one of the guys as he filled his own cup with some orange drink right on theme for the day.

When you said you'd join the celebrations for King's Day, Lando and Martin were the most excited for it and promised you one hell of a party indeed.

"Show me how you dance with your pretty hips! Baby, are my moves as good as yours?", Lando said as he swayed his hips from side to side, his knees helping him bounce slightly as he waved the cup around. The sunglasses didn't cover his blushed cheeks and big smile, but you were sure they were hiding your favourite pair of eyes, now probably squinty and glassy as he sang loudly.

"Yes, Lan, they're good", you shook your head as you laughed, letting him pull you closer to him so he could dance with you.

"My chest is full of love for you, baby", Lando whispered on your ear before he nipped at the skin there.

"We're out, Lando, there's other people here", you gasped even though you were enjoying his touches a little too much. Drunk Lando often meant an even clingier boyfriend.

"I don't care, I'm full of love for you - I love you!", he stated kissing your lips and everywhere on your face he could.

You turned around for a couple of minutes, approaching the edge so you could get a little bit of air and look at how everyone else was celebrating the day until you heard a gasp followed by Martin calling your name.

"What?", you asked before seeing Lando and his bloody nose, "Oh my word", you whispered as you approached him.

"We clicked the glasses and then this happened", Martin explained as you took a good look at the injury.

Even though it seemed like a little nick on the skin from the glass, it was bleeding a good amount, "Here's the first aid kit", someone said as they handed it to you.

"Does it hurt a lot, love?", you asked Lando as you rummaged through the bag to figure out what you had and what you could do with it.

"It's okay", he mumbled.

"Hold this, Lando, I need to find something to disinfect- we're in a boat full of alcohol drinks but medical grade stuff would be better I guess", you mumbled the last part, trying to read the label of the bottle and smelling them.

Once you look up after finding the rubbing alcohol and some cotton buds and pads, you see the gauze wrapped around his head, "like this, right, lovie?", Lando smiled, a genuine tinge of hope in his voice at helping you help him.

"Not quite", you laughed. You felt bad for doing so while he was clearly hurt despite not hearing many complaints from him.

"Let me put some steri strips - stay still, Lan, I need to see this upclose", you stated after cleaning the cut, applying the strips in a cross since you could see the skin was pulling both ways.

"Did you do it like an X? I felt that", Lando spoke, "X marks the spot for the treasure, doesn't it? I'm your treasure!", he cheered, "Taylor Swift says that it marks the spot where we fell apart, but we never fall apart baby, we're forever".

"You are, Lan, my biggest treasure", you smiled, "can you stay still for a bit longer though, please?", you asked gently still.

Lando complied with your request, staying still as you did your best to make sure the dressing was helping or at least not making the situation worse, "Is this your way of telling me you want me to get a rhinoplasty? Funny, it has rhino in it", he giggled before he attempted to make an elephant noise.

"No, baby, I love your nose just the way it is", you smiled, kissing the tip of his nose when you were happy with the improvised wound dressing, "there, all done! You even get a magic kiss for it to heal faster!".

"You're so pretty, you're really my girlfriend? Ah! Would you look at that, Martin? She's my girlfriend - I'm one lucky dude", Lando beamed at his friend before he kissed your lips, letting you sit on the edge of the boat, "you can sit there, baby, it's got railing to protect you from falling in the water - it's looks mucky", he made a disgusted face.

You sat there, glad to be able to experience these moments with your boyfriend and seeing his so carefree and happy. His PR team would maybe have to do some cleaning up, but at the end of the day, he was a happy young man enjoying his time off and he had the right to enjoy it.

"She is my girlfriend - Look, Y/N! Someone is recording us, say hi, my love!", he yelled, getting you to wave at a girl filming on another boat, "isn't she pretty? And she fixed my nose too!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)