#like that is so nice from july what a good friend
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Naughty List đ
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Warnings: NSFW, Unprotected, Female Reader, It's fairly long.
Prompt: Buying him a special Christmas gift.
Notes: italics are actions and thoughts, i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it
- Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas and with all that said it's all under the cut and -
Things have been quite rough recently with the holidays fast approaching and his ex Tommy trying to come back in his life even though he was happily in a relationship with you. The holidays were horrible for any sort of first responder, if you asked any of them they would tell you the busiest nights of the year are Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas followed by maybe the 4th of July in there. Due to all of that happening of course he was stressed out. As of recent he'd been very distant just due to how stressed out and what little energy he had.
You didn't know if this was a good idea or even if he would be up for it considering it because of how things have been lately. Not that either of you have any issue with one or another but due to the lack of time and energy he's been having. Regardless of that you had happened to stumble upon a skimpy little Santa dress while Christmas shopping online, a smile filled your face as you thought that maybe it was just a bit cliché but maybe stupid enough to get him to smile. Even if nothing else a smile would let you know it helped his stress even just a slivver, now if something did happen? That might make a world of difference to the tension in his shoulders and the stress that seemed to linger in the slight darkness around his eyes. So you ordered it along with the other gifts you had picked out for him and a few other people.
A few days past and you forget about it entirely. Things have been busy so you completely forgot to check when it was going to get to yours and Buck's shared apartment. Of course you and Evan had promised not to open each other's packages because of the fact that they could be Christmas presents for eachother so he brought the packages in when he got home from work and set them down on the kitchen island. He was shortly followed by you coming in about thirty minutes later with groceries. You look down at the table as you brought in the groceries in that were slowly cutting off your circulation to your fingers and remember exactly what you bought. The smile fills your face again prompting you to put groceries up as quickly as you can. You hear him holler that he's getting in the shower and shout back a word of acknowledgment.
Tearing open the white baggie with the Amazon logo across it that you were sure contained the little Santa dress, you find exactly what you ordered a skimpy little Santa dress that came with some cute little stockings as well as a Santa hat. Surprisingly it was a pretty good deal and the quality feels fairly nice and soft. So of course you slip into it while he's preoccupied, zipping it in the front where the zip was. Although it was odd that the zip was in front it didnt look bad at all and it fit surprisingly and exceedingly well.
The other gifts you set aside in their boxes so that you can wrap them at some other point right now that wasn't the priority in your mind. As soon as you heard that shower turn off your smile got bigger because this was either going to make him laugh, make him want to let him stress out in an entirely different way or he wasnt in the mood and would be annoyed. You knew that the last one that filled your mind would most likely be unlikely because even if he was feeling like shit he was always a kind, optimistic and easygoing person.
'Of course that is unless he's not thinking about curses.' You smiled as you thought to yourself about a few Halloween's ago when you were just friends and he was convinced he was cursed. You weren't certain about the idea of curses and such but so much had happened that Halloween for it to be even remotely coincidental.
The sound of him getting out of the shower breaks you from your thoughts. Once he leaves the shower and enters the bedroom you can see him with his back turned to you, the towel tied around his waist as he rummages through it to get boxers out of his dresser.
A sly and mischievous smile feels your lips as you put your arm against the doorway and slightly lean against it.
"Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho. I was making my list and checking it twice when I found-" You burst into giggles as soon as you see the smile graces his face as he turned his head to face you. You had never done this perfectly before, something about role-play sometimes just made you burst into laughter when you tried to be serious. You wete never making fun of anyone who did this more often when you laughed about it. You just relished in the fun of it and the thought of being able to play with Buck like this due to his accepting and kind nature.
"No, no. Continue." Evan stiffled a laugh and tried to hide a smile so bright and happy which made your confidence brighten a bit. God that smile meant the world and could make you feel like you were standing on air or it could bring you to your knees like a puddle.
"Well I was making a list and checking it twice when I found you had been put on the Naughty List. Have you been doing something that I'm on aware of Mr. Buckley?" You had taken a breath to stiffle your laugh before you started talking. The tone of your voice trying to be entirely serious and get into the role of 'Santa' a bit.
"I have been quite good this year, Santa..." his smile widened as he sauntered closer to you. Evan's hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, the soft almost velvety red fabric beneath his fingers. His smile widens as if it was even possible to get any wider as he starts gently massaging your hips before he brings his mouth down to your ear, his lips brushing against your skin.
"...but you know, my girlfriend...she definitely peer pressures me into a few naughty things here and there, Santa. I'm for sure she's on the naughty list but please, oh, please, for me, Santa put us both on the nice list. I'll do anything." He teasingly begs with a joking tone into your ear with a clear sound of lust and dominance gracing his tone.
Due to how tired he'd been it had been a bit since you had seen his dominant side but it was definitely here now, clear as day in his eyes as he is pushes you onto the bed before finding his way betwen your thighs using his right forearm to the side of your head to hold himself up above you. The last thing he'd ever want to do is squish you beneath him.
"Anything..." He whispers against your lips, a smile gracing both of your faces as he gently and languidly kisses you deeply. Your hands gently caressing his face and the slight stubble left there. He shaves in the mornings before work so it was quite common for him to have it most nights but you had never minded one bit.
"Dear Santa, think you could use a little naughty in your life..." Buck teased with a joking tone as he pushes his knee between your thighs and slightly into your core earning a moan that slipped so easily from your lips to between his, it had been a while so your body was already ready and excited for whatever his little mind concocted.
"See? What did I say?" He smirks at the sweet noise that escaped your lips. The towel around his waist very clearly slipping off his hip as he his brought his lips to the exposed cleavage the little Santa dress left uncovered. He slowly pulled at the zipper at the front of the dress exposing your breasts a bit more before attaching his lips gently around your nipple slowly rolling it around with his tongue. His knee slightly grinded into your core with a slow pace. Your hands found themselves in his wet hair gently massaging.
You could tell his was still tired and you didnt expect him to ravage you like a caveman and besides this gentle dominance was more intimate and close in your opinion than any hot rough sex you had ever had with anyone. Tender loving took more patience and care and Evan just loved taking care of you as you did him; Passionate and slow sex never failed to leave the both of you satisfied. You feel him start to move lower with his kisses as he slowly unzips the front of the dress working his way down and by the time he's nipped and kissed his way down to your panties you stop him.
"Ev, Baby...I want you, not your mouth." You said as you gently and kindly guided his mouth back up to yours and slowly removed the towel from his waist with one hand, letting it fall off the bed before wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was languid and soft as Buck held himself above you, still laying between your thighs. His free hand rubbing gently at your nipple, squeezing and massaging your breast earning a few more instinctual noises from you.
"I love you." You whispered, of course it felt random but you always felt the need to reassure him whenever you felt like saying it; you knew the stupid rule most people apparentally had said that you shouldn't say 'I love you' during sex or some shit but as stated before it was stupid. You never said I love you if you didnt mean to anyone let alone Evan. Buck wasn't just his body and you could understand the difference between love and lust. He regains your attention from your thoughts very quickly when he reaches down to rub your clit gently with his thumb though your panties earning a soft mew from your lips. Buck's smile just lights up at the sound.
"Jesus, Baby. You're so worked up, if I'd known you were so needy Id've-"
"Shhhh....Dont." You whisper gently cutting him off before kissing him. The last thing you needed was him blaming himself for you being a bit pent up.
You reached down finding him, gently stroking him, your thumb slightly brushing the tip of him earning the sweetest sounds from him. You reached down to yourself and moved your panties to the side before you slowly guided his body into yours. His eyes gazed into yours and yours back into his. The pace was slow and initmate, your arms wrapped around his torso as his hips deeply and languidly rocked into you. Your eyes not leaving his but for a few seconds on occasion to look down between the two of you as the both of you moan and whimpered in pure bliss of one another. His hair still wet as your hands worked their way through the strands gently in massaging his scalp.
With the way everything was stress-wise and as long as it had been, it was clear to both of you that you both would finish quicker than you would like on a night like this. Usually, the both of you on intimate nights could go for what felt like hours but it was clear both of you wouldnt be making it that long as his hips rocked into you with purpose and depth. Of course neither of you were upset about it, always just content to be with one another.
"I'm close, Baby. You want me to-"
"It's fine, I wanna feel you." You whisper against his lips as you cradled his head not wanting him to leave your body before he finishes this time. He continues the leisurely but deep pace of his him inside you as he feels your walls tighten around him.
"I'm-" You start but you're cut off by the sound of his voice.
"I know." He says gently with a smirk against your chest, that was one thing about Buck is somehow he could always tell exactly what to do with your body and exactly how it was going to react. It was refreshing the way he cared about you and the way he would always take care of you before even beginning to think about finishing himself. That band in your abdomen that had been building slowly snaps as a wave of white washes over you, your back upward so your chest is pressed to his. Evan moves his mouth back up to yours to capture the sound that was escaping your lips before groaning into your mouth with full satisfaction and pride.
After a few moments of silent slight panting as the both of you came down, you whisper to him "Merry Christmas, Baby." You smiled as you massaged his scalp, his body on you like a weighted blanket as you gently massaged drying hair.
"Am I on the Nice list now, Santa?" He smirks as he jokes.
"Well Naughty boys dont get presents and I'm sure you've earned at least a few." Smiling as you hold his face gently tracing that little bit of stubble again.
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Dandadan Episode 12 Review + Final Thoughts - You're Ending It Like That?
The way this ended was absolutely FOUL! What do you mean I have to wait until July for season 2? Like you canât just end it there and say âSee you in about seven months!â What a way to get people hyped for the next cour yet so evil too.
Basically, the finale is about the aftermath of the Taro and Hana situation with the kids prostrating to Seiko to allow Hana to stay in the Ayase residence. That way, Taro can sneak out at night and visit his love. The way he does it is so hilarious because he just runs even when there are students in sight; the sight of him taking the train got me chuckling. He was able to make it back despite getting dissembled due to a truck that did not isekai him. It also turns out that the shining âballâ on Taro wasnât Okarunâs ball but a Christmas ornament. This part was hilarious but itâs cute to see how devoted Taro is to Hana. Iâve also noticed that these minor spirits like the Mantis Shrimp play some sort of role later on, so I get this feeling that the same might apply to Taro and/or Hana.
The episode then transitions to Okarun, Momo and Jiji going to Jijiâs house to see what the source of the curse is. Also, Iâm convinced that Jijiâs energy is a mix of being an extrovert and also sleep deprivation because that guy cannot sleep properly and is probably trying to fight it off by being as silly as possible so no one would worry. Regardless, Jiji and Okarun actually do get along well as Jiji is open-minded and accepting. This makes Okarun feel more insecure because his love rival is a good guy and it would make it harder for him to win Momoâs affections.Â
To be honest, I think their friendship and rivalry is adorable. Okarun doesnât have male friends because of the constant bullying he got from other boys in school, so it would be nice if Jiji becomes his first friend. Momo is so nice for wanting them to get along hence why she left so the two can bond. I donât remember the last time I saw two guys childishly fight over a girl they both like. Usually, male rivalries are full of silence, but itâs nice to see them express their mutual love for Momo and be petty about it too. Like I said before, itâs like a gender-bent version of two girls realizing they both like the same guy and fighting over it.
Before moving to the Ayaseâs, Jiji used to live in a small town in the mountains. His father is a researcher who studies volcanoes and works at a nearby university before his hospitalization. Jijiâs energy makes so much sense given that mountainous areas are steep, so you have to be athletic or full of stamina to survive. Jiji has the energy and the stamina to climb three flight of stairs while Momo becomes exhausted and Okarun just dies. Though, the townspeople are creepy, especially the ones spying on the kids. The men are especially creepy with how they get into the same bath as Momo and are trying to assault her. *sigh* Momo has terrible luck when it comes to creepsâŠ
But yeah, I do wonder what that weird foyerâs deal isâŠand that answer will have to wait until Summer. Did you know that in Western countries, fall is considered spooky season while Asian countries consider summer to be spooky season? Ghost stories are often exchanged or told in the summer, which makes absolute sense why Dandadan, a paranormal and supernatural show would return for the summerâitâs to fulfill the spooky vibes.
Final Thoughts
Dandadan was definitely the hit show for this season. Everyone keeps talking about it whether it be positively or negatively. I can see why itâs so popular. Not only is it a Jump title, but it has the âanimeâ feel to it as it mixes action and zaniness in one. Itâs not realistic and it doesnât have to beâitâs just something fun to look at and enjoy.
I like the unique batch of characters this story has. What I like most is that theyâre essentially gender reversed versions of the shounen character tropes. While Momo and Okarun share the role as co-protagonists, both are written in a way that they have traits that are normally reserved for characters of the opposite gender. Momo is blunt, abrasive and has a rude way of speaking, which is normally seen in male shounen MCs, but she also has a heart of gold and that is what attracts people to her. Okarun is a shrinking violet who Momo helps out one day and they become fast friends despite their differences in beliefs. Okarun would be the quintessential shy love interest who develops a crush on the MC and makes it their entire personality, but he does have a personality outside of Momo, which is a good thing, and his crush is used to help him grow and develop. Aira, Jiji and Seiko are unique too! However, I also like that they give personality to the supernatural creatures they encounter like Turbo Granny, Acrobatic Silky, etc. Usually, these sorts of villains would just be textbook evil for the heck of it or just throwaways, but the story does take time to let the readers know what sort of people they are underneath. Turbo Granny protects the souls of girls who died tragically in the tunnel; Acrobatic Silky was once a mom who had a daughter but failed to protect her; Mantis Shrimp was only a villain because he needed to help his son Chiquitita.
The voice acting is really good! Dandadan is one of those Jump titles that uses little new faces and more veterans. The only new face in the cast is Shion Wakayama, technically. Yet, she nails Momo so hard that itâs hard to believe that she started off voicing quiet, shy girls. Everyone else does a splendid job as to be expected of professionals. The English dub also does a spectacular job. I still canât believe they got Kari Wahlgren and Barbara Goodson to return to anime dubbing. Itâs amazing what a good production can do!
Though, I do like the animation and music the most when it comes to this anime. The animation is just so fluid and I really like how Science Saru takes time to give movement to each shot. I also like the music too! The piano score from Episode 7 really gets to me. Whoever did the music needs a raise, ASAP.
I guess a few gripes I have is that Dandadan is aggressively the most Japanese show Iâve seen this season. What I mean by that is that Dandadan does fall victim to the usual anime cliches at times, but itâs not an entirely bad thing. I just feel like some things in it are typical of animes like the unsightly scenes of the first and final episodes to action-packed scenes reminiscent of classic anime shows. People on social media do like to say that there are other cultural influences in Dandadan, but I disagree. Dandadan is very, VERY Japanese from the talk about supernatural powers to Japanese peopleâs views on aliens. I wonât get into too much detail as I am not Japanese myself, but it is one of those shows that could work in a Western setting, but it wouldnât have the same flair.
Overall, Dandadan is a show I would recommend to people if they want something fun to watch without thinking too much into it. My brother is always telling me to read the manga as he says itâs better, so I might check out the manga if I get the chance. Let me know your thoughts on the finale and the anime as a whole!
#dandadan#okarun#ken takakura#momo ayase#jin enjoji#jiji#seiko ayase#turbo granny#taro#hana#review#anime#anime review#final thoughts#ecargmura#arum journal
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I thought the october curse was gonna be skipped this year based on the fact I got a job on the first day but like. it turns out that was the bad luck disguising itself at good news and it's just another normal october
#i think a lot about how july 2020 was mediocre and july 2021 was one of the worst months of my life#and i made it known that i didn't trust july anymore. and it must've taken that as constructive criticism and my god it listened to me#bc then july 2022 was one of the best months of my life#and the two julys since have been pretty good as well#like that is so nice from july what a good friend#CANNOT say the same for october. like since 2014 every single one has been significantly terrible (except 2015 and maybe 2018)#2014 depressed. 2016 no friends depressed. 2017 giving nothing. 2019 dropped from what was a really good year#2020 like every mental illness known to man. 2021 All the horrors happening at once. 2022 the aromantic's worst nightmare#2023 was just awful#and then 2024's theme is having an absolutely miserable job after like 15 months of unemployment#i only get 3 days off and i can't even enjoy them bc i know what they're leading to#my shifts are too short to be allowed breaks but way too long for that to be comfortable#there've been times the day before a shift when i think about going and end up feeling nauseous and that's never even happened before lol#i get paid in like week apparently so i might try and wait until then but like#also the worst part is it's basically what i did when i was 17 (kitchen porter/assistant/whatever) so i keep comparing them#except there were parts of that job i enjoyed like the dishwasher and the cool shower looking tap and doing the plates and cutlery etc#and also the people i worked with. and the shifts weren't too bad. and i had a glorious hyperfixation#anyway this job is none of those things it's actually all the things i specifically disliked about the other one lol#i miss the dishwasher she was so cool. i miss the hyperfixation i had in 2017 (but when do i not)#but yeah i guess the only advantages of this job is I'll have money again and it's more motivation to look for another job#once again wishing i was 17 bc she wasn't happy and had no friends or aim in life but she listened to a lot of music so#idk why i always get addicted to 2017 nostalgia maybe bc it was such a mediocre year#like if i start wishing I was 13 or 15 or 19 or 22 I'm just gonna get depressed bc they were so good#but there's no reason for me to want to be 23 or 20 or 16 or 14 bc like. what is there to want about those#but 17 is so average it's like a low enough standard or something idk. anyway#ramble
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a birthday ended with a bang
pairing: best friend!steve rogers x female reader
summary: your best friend picks you up for some ice cream on his birthday on the fourth of july and things escalate.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, sexual tension, kissing, dry humping/dry sex, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, baby), aftercare, very quick friends to lovers
word count: 4.1k
a/n: ooof i have been suffering from the worst writer's block and i seriously didn't think i was gonna be able to post anything for steve's birthday, which would've made me so sad. i finally got through the worst of it i think, as of yesterday, but so this was written in a rush and i'm sorry if it's not very good but i tried!!!! anyway i hope everyone has a happy steve's birthday â€ïžđ€đ
Iâm picking you up in 10.
It was just after sunset on the Fourth of July, the sky still fading from a glowing indigo into the deep midnight blue of night, when the text from your best friend Steve Rogers came through.Â
His text came as a surprise. Steve had been scheduled to work all day and heâd said he just wanted to go home and sleep after, so you hadnât thought youâd see him. Instead, you had plans to celebrate his birthday on the weekend, but youâd have been a liar if youâd said you werenât disappointed you wouldnât get to see him on his actual birthday.
So you were excited by his textâbut less so by the implication he would be taking you somewhere.
After all, youâd already gotten comfy and cozy in your bed, wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts youâd sleep in, and you didnât want to get dressed again. Thankfully, you knew Steve wouldnât care what you wore, but you were a nice friend, so as you dragged yourself out of your comfortable bed, you sent him a warning.Â
iâm already in my pjs
By the time he replied, five minutes had already gone by. Youâd managed to collect your keys and wallet from your bag, shoving them in a little wristlet that you looped around your arm as you stuffed your feet into some sandals. You read his text as you pushed through the door to your little cottage, prepared to wait the other five minutes for him in the cool July evening.Â
Idc what youâre wearing. Itâs my birthday and weâre getting ice cream.
You snorted a laugh, hearing your best friendâs bossy tone in your head, shaking your head to yourself at how much you loved it while you locked your door. Shoving your phone in your wristlet, you sat down on the top step of your porch and watched the neighborhood kids run through the yards along the street waving sparklers through the air.
Steveâs truck rolled to a stop in front of your small yard exactly 10 minutes after heâd texted you. An easy smile pulled up the corners of your mouth and you bounded down your wooden stairs, hurling yourself into the cab of your best friendâs truck.
âHappy birthday!â you cried as soon as you were inside. You tossed your wristlet on the dash and slid across the bench seat to throw your arms around Steveâs neck, hugging him tight while you pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek.Â
His low laugh was like warm honey trickling down your spine, his breath skimming past your cheek and making goosebumps raise all up and down your arms. Your heart thumped in your chest and you buried your face in your best friendâs shoulder, ignoring the way your body was reactingâlike it always did when you got too close to Steve.Â
Seemingly unaware of your plight, Steveâs hand settled on your forearm, squeezing softly before his warm palm slid up to your shoulder, his other arm digging into the seat and wrapping around your waist to haul you closer. You let out a little squeak of surprise, burying your face further in his shoulder to hide the fact that you were enjoying the way he held you far too much.Â
âThank you, sunshine,â Steve rumbled, resting his head on the crown of yours as he hugged you back. For a long, long moment, the two of you sat entwined together in Steveâs truck, just enjoying the feeling of being close, though you suspected it meant much more to you than it did to your best friend.
Finally, when you realized the hug might be getting weird, and bordering on something more-than-friendly, you extricated yourself from Steve, smiling up at him as you broke the quiet. âLetâs go get some ice cream,â you said, your voice a little lower and raspier than normal as you stared into his achingly familiar blue eyes.Â
A grin spread slowly across Steveâs face, and you felt your heart beat unsteadily in your chest at the devastating handsomeness of the expression. But thankfully Steve looked away and your lungs spasmed, begging you to breathe, so you sucked in some air while your best friend grabbed a ball of fabric from the backseat of his truck.
âHere, Iâve got the windows down,â he said, pushing the garment into your hands.Â
Only when you shook it out did you see it was one of Steveâs hoodies, the navy blue sweatshirt massive to fit over your best friendâs broad shoulders. On the front, to one side and below the collar, Steveâs name was stitched into the cotton. Your heart gave another flip at the thought of wearing Steveâs name stitched over your chest.Â
âI donât want you getting cold,â your best friend murmured, his voice lower and rougher. When you looked back at him, Steve wore an expression you couldnât quite interpret, his gaze almost possessive. It made something low in your belly squirm.
Swallowing thickly, you turned your attention to tugging the hoodie over your head, inhaling the familiar scent of Steveâs cologne. For the brief moment when your face was hidden, you closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling your body heatâfrom more than just the warmth of the sweatshirt. Then you pulled the fabric down over your head and stuffed your arms into the sleeves.
The hoodie was big on you, but you loved the feel of it, and you smiled up at Steve to show your appreciation. Your best friend was wearing a pleased smirk, his eyes a little hooded as they raked over the sight of you in his sweatshirt.Â
âLooks good on you, sunshine,â he rumbled, something new in his tone that youâd never heard before.Â
âThanks, Stevie,â you whispered shyly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt a little awkward under the weight of his gaze, his eyes feeling like they were burning you up from the inside out, so you gave your best friend a goofy grin and said, âNowâm all nice and toasty.âÂ
Steve snorted a laugh, which broke the tension between the two of you, the mood in the truck lightening instantly. Shaking his head and wiping a hand over his face, Steve turned back to the steering wheel, and shifted his truck into drive.
You started to move into the passenger seat, intent on buckling up, but Steveâs big hand shot out and he grabbed your thigh, just below where the hem of your pajama shorts ended. His palm was warm, his fingers slightly rough with callouses, and you were immediately, acutely aware of the fact that Steve had never, ever touched you there before.
Heat crashed through your core as you sucked in a gasp of surprise. Instinctively, your fingers closed around your best friendâs wrist, holding him where he was, making sure he kept touching you. You stared down at his hand, your mind spinning a little at the sight of him clutching your thigh.
Steveâs fingers dug lightly into your thigh, almost reflexively, like he couldnât help himself from seeing just how soft you were beneath his hand. Before you could do more than squeak out a quiet sound of delight, though, Steve pulled away and cleared his throat. The fingers of the hand that had been touching you curled and flexed like he already missed your softness.
âWant you close,â Steve muttered, his tone almost apologetic, like was asking for forgiveness for grabbing you so suddenly. His eyes dropped to somewhere near your feet and you watched as his adamâs apple bobbed in his throat. âPlease, sunshine.â His plea was rough and so quiet you had a hard time hearing it over the sound of the fireworks your neighbors were setting off at random intervals.
ââCourse, Steve,â you said, your own voice soft and breathy, almost sounding sultry to your ears. You swallowed to wash away some of the throatiness, and tried to put on a light, friendly tone to steer you and Steve back to something normalânot whatever alternate universe youâd entered when youâd gotten in his truck. âYou want birthday cuddles, youâll get birthday cuddles.â
Steve let out a small snort and, as you watched, a tension you hadnât realized had been there drained from his shoulders. Your best friendâs eyes raised back to yours, a flicker of something restless and reckless coursing through you while a small smirk tugged at the corners of his soft lips.Â
âYeah, sunshine, gimme some birthday cuddles.âÂ
When youâd said the words, they had sounded friendly, innocent even. But there was something in Steveâs voice that sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat simmering between your thighs. You told yourself he hadnât intended his words to have such a reaction and pushed your bodyâs desirous response to the back of your mind as you shifted into the middle seat.
Carefully, you tucked yourself into Steveâs side, wrapping your arms around his bicep and clinging to him like he was your favorite stuffed animal. The bare skin of your leg brushed against the rough denim of his jeans and you trembled slightly, the sensation feeling far more erotic than it should. Steveâs hand landed on your leg just above your knee.
It was, ostensibly, a much more friendlier grip on you, but you felt arousal flare, hot and quick, in your core. Again, you ignored it and tipped your face up, planting your chin on the edge of Steveâs broad shoulder as you smiled up at him. Steve ducked down, kissing your nose and making you giggle, seemingly back to his normal selfâyour slightly silly best friend.
âAlright, letâs get some ice cream,â Steve rumbled, repeating your words while he gave your knee a squeeze, using his other hand to turn his truck around on your street and head in the direction of town.
There was a slight chill in the air as it swirled through the open windows of the truck cab, the heat of the July day having burned off and leaving only the coolness of night. Thanks to Steveâs hoodie, and the way your body was pressed into his warmth, you didnât feel anything but comfortable, the breeze tickling your cheeks and making you smile.Â
For a little while, you rode in silence with your best friend, but your mind kept straying to the feeling of Steveâs hand on your leg, to the memory of him gripping your thigh. You couldnât help but wonder what it would feel like to have his big hands roaming all over your body, groping your thighs and hipsâŠand other things.Â
To distract yourself, you raised your voice above the wind and asked, âHow was work?â
âIt was fine,â Steve answered, his deep rumble sending a tremor of delight through your body.Â
His eyes were on the road since he was navigating his truck through the town where you both lived, making turns to get to the small ice cream shop that would be open late for the holiday business. Still, Steve managed to shoot you a smile that made your insides flutter as he went on.Â
âI wouldâve much rather gone to the fair with you, though.â
A melty, gooey heat swirled in your belly and you squeezed his arm in yours, hiding a big, beaming grin in your best friendâs shoulder at his comment. When you managed to get control of yourself so you didnât look like a lovesick fool, you raised your face again.
âWeâre going on Saturday,â you reminded him, still smiling a little goofily. âAre you going to win me a new stuffie?âÂ
âSunshine,â Steve started, using one hand to turn his truck into the small parking lot of the ice cream shop. âIâm going to win you all the stuffies.â His voice was warm and affectionate and you couldnât help the way your heart beat unsteadily at his promise. Your best friend was none the wiser, though, as he parked his truck and turned to you. âCâmon.â
Steve helped you climb down from his truck, lacing his fingers through yours as you walked into the shop. It was busy, families and groups of friends getting some last-minute ice cream before heading over to the fireworks just outside of town. Steve and you fell into an easy conversation, your best friend asking you about your day to pass time while you waited in line.Â
Once it was your turn to order, you asked for your favorite in a cone, then Steve got a couple scoops of dark chocolate in a sugar cone. You fought with Steve over who was going to pay. He insisted he should pay because heâd dragged you out of bed, and you argued it was his birthday and there was no way you were going to let him pay.Â
Unfortunately, Steveâs arms were longer than yours and he was able to shove his card across the counter farther than you could. Grumbling about your stubborn best friend, you dropped a couple dollars into the tip jar and grabbed your ice cream. Steve followed you out, laughing at your poutiness and led you back to his truck, opening the driver side door for you and holding your cone while you got in.
Without being asked, you sat in the middle seat again, and held Steveâs ice cream while he drove, pushing it in his face whenever it started dripping. Both of you were laughing at the ridiculousness of him licking up the dripping ice cream while trying to drive by the time Steve pulled onto a dirt road that led up a hill beyond the edge of town.
After a few minutes, the trees parted into a clearing at the top of the hill and Steve rolled his truck to a stop, putting it in park overlooking the field where the townâs Fourth of July fireworks display would be. Wordlessly, you handed him his ice cream and the two of you sat in comfortable silence waiting for the show to begin while you enjoyed your sweet treat together.Â
Steve finished his cone first, and you could feel his gaze on you while you licked up the last remnants of creamy goodness. You popped the last little bit of your cone into your mouth with a satisfied hum, your tongue licking sticky sweetness from your lips.Â
âYou have something on yourâŠâ Steve trailed off when you turned to him, his eyes dropping to your mouth and sliding along the curve of them.Â
You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heat settling heavily in your core as warmth bloomed between your thighs. Then his thumb was following the the path of his eyes, swiping away some ice cream from the edge of your mouth that your tongue hadnât been able to reach.Â
Acting on impulse, and not questioning where it came from, you chased after Steveâs thumb, your tongue darting out to click the sweetness from the pad of his finger. Since your eyes were fixed on your best friendâs face, you watched his blue gaze darken and go heavy-lidded, his own mouth falling open with surprise.Â
Heat filled your cheeks, making your face feel like it was on fire. âUmm,â you said, not knowing what else to say.Â
It was on the tip of your tongue to apologize for licking your best friend, but just then, the first boom, pop and fizzle of fireworks sounded. Dazzling red light distracted you from Steve for a moment, dragging your eyes away to watch the fireworks display begin. Youâd jumped at the first boom, the loud noise surprising you.
It was nothing, though, compared to the shock you felt when Steve grabbed your face, turned you back to him and ducked his head to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. Air filled your lungs as you sucked in a sharp breath, your body frozen while you sat there stunned, unable to do anything but feel the softness of Steveâs lips against yours.
Another sharp boom from overhead shocked you enough to make you jump again, and suddenly you remembered how to move. Your hands curled into the front of Steveâs shirt, clinging to him as you surged forward, pressing your lips harder against your best friendâs.Â
Steve groaned low in his throat and your response seemed to unleash something within your best friend. Between one breath and the next, he was hauling you into his lap, your legs were straddling his thighs and his mouth was doing its best to devour yours.
You could taste the chocolate on his tongue as it slipped between your lips, exploring every inch of you and stroking against your own. Giddy excitement and heated desire swirled through your body, making you feel like you could float away as you and your best friend tasted and explored each other.Â
Your hands uncurled from Steveâs shirt and slid up his shoulders, diving into the soft blond hair at the nape of his neck. He groaned again when you raked your nails softly against his scalp, his mouth going soft and slack as tremors of delight wracked his broad shoulders.Â
âFuck, sunshine,â Steve grunted, his hands pushing beneath the hem of the hoodie you wore so he could grope your hips. You rocked into him, wringing another moan of pleasure from your best friend when your heated core pressed against the bulge in his jeans. âYou have no idea how long Iâve dreamed about feeling you like this.â
âSteve, Iââ
Your response was cut short by your best friendâs teeth nipping at your bottom lip, making you whine and grind harder against his lap. Steve swallowed your sounds of pleasure, his big hands groping and kneading the soft flesh of your hips and thighs like he couldnât get enough. It was better than you ever couldâve imagined.
âThatâs it, sunshine, ride your best friendâs bulge,â Steve rumbled, a little bit of teasing in his tone. His lips trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He sucked on the skin over your pounding pulse, pulling a whimpering sound from your mouth that was unlike any noise youâd ever made. âYa gonna come on my cock, baby? Gonna come before we even take our clothes off?â
Your best friendâs filthy words poured over you like gasoline on a fire, turning the heat in your blood into a raging inferno. âSteve, god, please, I needâŠâ You tried to form a coherent thought, your lips gasping for breath in between every false start, your hips working harder and faster as you chased your pleasure.
âGood girl, baby, take what you need,â Steve cooed in your ear, his hands slipping beneath your tank top and groping your tits. He plucked at your nipples, rolling the pebbled peaks between his fingers and making your eyes roll back in your head, your loud moans filling the cab of his truck and nearly drowning out the sounds of the fireworks from the field beyond. âRide my bulge, sunshine, make yourself come all over my cock.âÂ
You were making a mess in your panties and shorts, your arousal soaking through the thin garments until you were certain you were leaving a wet spot behind on Steveâs jeans, but you couldnât bring yourself to care. Not when your clit was rubbing just right against the bulge pressing against his fly.Â
âOh god, Steve, âm gonnaâŠâÂ
Your hips worked frantically, humping against Steveâs cock through both your clothes while he murmured encouraging words in your ear and played with your tits until he figured out what made you squirm and writhe the most. Then he kept that up until you were suddenly at the edge.
âCome for me, sunshine, come for your best friend.â
Steveâs words were what did you in. His soft, murmured urging pushed you off the ledge and sent you tumbling into pleasure as you came for him.
Your arms locked around your best friendâs shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck as bliss like youâd never known swept through your body, leaving you a shaking, trembling mess. Mindless moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, your hips still bucking on Steveâs lap as you rode out your release.
It wasnât until Steve let loose a guttural groan, a warm wetness spreading through the jeans pressed against your bare thighs, that you realized he was coming too. You wrenched your eyes open, your gaze locking with his, seeing your own pleasure mirrored in his sparkling blue depths. Then your mouths were colliding, both of you having surged forward to meet somewhere in the middle.
The kiss was messy, mouths sliding and teeth knocking, both of you swallowing down the pleasured sounds of the other. Steveâs hands gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your softness, helping you rock on his lap while you both rode out your releases and shuddered through the last remnants of pleasure together.Â
Finally, when you were sated, your lips broke free and you pressed your forehead to Steveâs, closing your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. You could hardly believed what had just happened, and your mind struggled to catch up.Â
âChrist, sunshine,â Steve rasped, his own chest still heaving shallowly. His hands were idly kneading your hips, like he was soothing any pain that might be there. âI really didnât plan on doing anything more than getting ice cream for my birthday, but this wasâwow.â
You giggled at the awe in Steveâs voice, leaning back enough that you could see him properly. His handsome, familiar face was slack from satisfaction, a dazed smile curving his mouth. Unable to help yourself, you ducked forward and sucked his lower lip into your mouth, making him groan like he was in pain. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch, and you laughed again as you sat back.
âIf you want, we can ditch the rest of the fireworks show and go back to my place?â you suggested, an eager smile on your face.Â
Steve chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning forward until every inch of your chests were pressed together. You could feel the steady beating rhythm of his heart against your sternum, making your smile soften as you melted in your best friendâs arms.
âSunshine, the fireworks are already over,â he murmured before capturing your lips in a kiss. When he broke away, he left you panting. âAnd if you think Iâm doing anything other than taking you home and taking you to bedâŠâ He trailed off, getting distracted by pressing kisses against your jaw.Â
You hummed in acknowledgement, but then a thought suddenly occurred to you and you had to bite back a laugh. âYour birthday is on the Fourth of July,â you began in a leading tone. âAnd you know what that means, Stevie?âÂ
Instead of responding, Steve sank his teeth lightly into skin over your thrumming pulse, sucking and licking like he was intent on marking you with his mouth. Your thoughts scattered for a moment, your head tipping to the side to give him better access while your fingers raked idly through his soft blond hair.
It took you a second, but you managed to finish your thought.Â
âBecause itâs the Fourth of July, we have to end your birthday with a bang,â you murmured, unable to stop yourself from giggling at your own joke.
Steve, on the other hand, groaned. His mouth abandoned your neck as he buried his face in your chest, reluctant laughter shaking his shoulders. Before you could poke him and get him to admit he liked your joke, Steve was flipping you onto your back, laying you down on his truckâs bench seat and slotting his hips between your thighs. His revived bulge bumped against your heated core, making you moan softly.
âYâknow what, sunshine? Youâre right,â Steve rumbled, his blue eyes sparkling with humor and affection as he stared down at you. There was so much emotion in his gaze, it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs. âWeâll end my birthday with a bang.â His hands began to strip you out of the hoodie heâd given you to wear, his gaze hungry and determined. âWeâre gonna see if I can make you scream louder than those fireworks.âÂ
Your laughter dissolved into a hot, hungry heat. You pulled Steve down at the same moment he ducked his head, your lips crashing together in a fiery kiss that fogged up the windows of his truck, your bodies working together toward the same goal.
Between you and your best friend, you made sure the Fourth of Julyâand, more importantly, Steveâs birthdayâended with a bang.
#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers au#best friend steve rogers#steve rogers one shot#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans characters#friends to lovers#witchywithwhiskeywork#steve rogers fluff
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pairing: pre-seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au warnings: spencer and reader are roommates !!! reader wears Miss Dior. a/n: so very sorry for not posting in so long! got busy with extracurriculars and uni started up again :( big thank you to @januaryembrs and @hotchfiles for reading through this first !! wc: 1.04k you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3
Spencer officially joins the BAU late July once he completed his time at the FBI academy. It wasnât necessarily fair for the other agents who hoped and prayed that they would be the lucky someone who would get to join the extremely elusive Behavioural Analysis Unit upon graduation, especially because he was the one who was chosen by name by the esteemed Jason Gideon. It also wasnât necessarily fair to get home after four long egregious months of constant movement and firearm training to his roommate.
âYouâre home!âÂ
He grimaces a little bit, dropping his heavy suitcases and bags at the doorway with a heavy sigh. âIâm exhausted.â
âIâd bet! Youâve got more things than you left with!â Youâre beaming, taking his new FBI registered duffle bag out of his hands and into the living room. âYour hair is so long now.â
âI feel like a wet dog,â he grumbles, pushing the strands out of his face. âWere you okay with rent? Iâll pay you back and everythingââ
You laugh, shaking your head and pulling him to sit on the couch by the wrists. âItâs okay, Spence, relax. One of my friends needed a temporary place to stay, so I really only needed to pay a couple weeks of rent by myself. Youâre probably starving, arenât you? Iâve got pizza on the way.â
His cheeks burn at the contact, his throat going dry and his head almost as if itâs about to explode. âYeah.â
âYeah,â you repeat, beaming. Your fingers tug at the FBI windbreaker heâs sportingâ big on his shoulders and long at the hips. âThis is new. You went shopping without me?â
âGideon insisted I get more FBI uniform,â he explains hurriedly, âhe said itâd made me feel more âofficialâ. They didnât have any more in my size.â
âItâs cute! Give us a spin, Walter.âÂ
He does it half-begrudgingly, rising from the couch pillows and doing an awkward spin. He used to be used to it, before he went away for four months to train at the academy. Heâll need to get re-used to it, he supposes.Â
âYou look very official,â you say with genuinity, grinning ear to ear. âGot anything else?â
His nose scrunches in distaste as he sits back down. âThereâs meant to be more?â
âThe uniform isnât just a jacket, is it?â You ask with furrowed brows. âThe bag is a nice touch, though.â
âThey said that I should get the polo, but I donât think Iâd ever wear it,â he explains, going through his things. Theyâd all need a good wash, he decides, throwing his clothes onto the floor. âThere isnât a uniform policy at the BAU, though. Just to be clean and tidy.â
âYouâre already a pro at that, arenât you, Walter?âÂ
His cheeks glow at your jest and he kicks at the pile of clothes at his feet. âYou donât think Iâm weird, do you?â
âWeird for⊠being clean and tidy?â You blink, poking at his shoulder. âIf thatâs what weird is, then I hope there are a lot of other guys who are weird.â
âThatâs an oxymoron.â
âExactly.â He catches your smile as you speak. âItâs not a bad thing to be different. You know that, donât you?â
âIn theory,â he responds vaguely.
You huff, âYou ought to remember it with that big brain of yours.â
âThereâs no significant correlation between brain size and intelligence,â Spencer reminds you again, shrugging his jacket off. âYou should remember that, too.â
***Â
Itâs an incredibly cold November morning, just a couple of days after Halloween, and Spencer has been tearing up and down the apartment in search of his windbreaker. The team are set for Alaska this time around, and though his sweaters and wool socks provide some warmth, it was nothing compared to the inner pockets of his FBI assigned windbreaker that hold heat warmers.Â
âHave you seen it?â He asks hurriedly, rushing through the living room. âI need to leave in three minutes or Iâll miss my trainââ
âSeen what?â You ask, frowning as you fill his travel mug with hot coffee and sugar. âWhat are you looking for?â
âMy jacket,â he explains halfheartedly. âYou know the one.â
You let out a breath of a laugh, moving to the bathroom and pulling it off the hook. âSpencer?â
He visibly relaxes, taking it from your hands with a hint of embarrassment. âOh.â
âYou let me borrow it after you picked me up from the Halloween party, donât you remember?â The corners of your lips quirk upwards in jest as his expression shifts into that of realisation. âI put it behind the door so that you could find it easier. Not that it helped, clearly.â
âSorry,â he mumbles, cheeks pink in the light. âThank you. See you later.â
âSee you later,â you agree, and heâs already out the door, his jacket and travel mug in tow.
***Â
âGood morning,â JJ says, her bright blue eyes drowsy with sleep despite her greeting. âAre you guys ready to go?â
Spencer nods, zipping up the windbreaker and snapping the buttons together. Even in Virginia itâs still freezing. He doesnât want to imagine how cold itâd be in Alaska.Â
âSomeone smells nice,â JJ chirps with a grin. âIs thatâ is that Miss Dior?â
âWhat?â Spencer sniffs, frowning. âWho?â
âThe perfume?â She repeats the name, her brows flushed together. âIâm not crazy.â
âIs that Miss Dior?â Hotch asks in bemusement, sniffing the air. He looks at Jennifer with a mix of appreciation and a nod to say good taste. âHaley used to wear it all through college.â
âIâm not wearing it,â JJ insists, shaking her head with a laugh. âSpence?â
Heâs barely paying attention to the conversation, frantically Googling an image of whatever the hell Miss Dior is. Heâs met with the familiar rectangular bottle with pink liquid and a bow on the neck, something that heâs seen on your dresser multiple times.Â
âMy roommate,â he groans, covering his face with the palms of his hands. âShe borrowed my jacket a couple days ago.â
âOoh, a lady friend,â JJ snickers, âand she borrowed your jacket. How gentlemanly of you.â
Spencer sends you a long text message about the importance of not spraying perfume on clothes once he gets off the jet.
reblogs are always appreciated !!
you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds x reader fluff#matthew gray gubler fluff#matthew gray gubler x reader fluff
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where thereâs sparks, thereâs fire!
pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader
summary: you canât tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him heâs constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but heâs only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you itâs obvious that he wants to fuck you. you donât see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, youâre not special.
âor: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.
word count: 4.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yâall!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.
authorâs note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.
Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.
Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.
You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.
It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Artâs the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.
Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The womenâs tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, sheâs less convincing than she is more forcing you, but itâs basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.
Tashiâs almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldnât fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldnât mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote âNothing serious, heâs just a really good fuck.â and that you should âTotally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.âÂ
You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.
You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that sheâd be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You canât remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.
Heâs Sigma Nuâs secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and heâs nice for a frat guy but heâs definitely not your type. Heâs been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. Youâre in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name.Â
âThere you are!â Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. Heâs wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. Heâs tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. âIâve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.â He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.
You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. âYou found me, so you can go bother someone else now,â you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. âBye.â You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.
Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. âYeah, I missed you too,â he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. Heâs just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. âCute dress.âÂ
You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. Heâs silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. âAre you like, together, or something?âÂ
You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head âNoâ. Patrick beats you to speaking though, âGod no, man.â he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. âI came over here to warn you.â He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like heâs not talking out of his ass.
Brandon/Brianâs brows furrow, clearly confused. âWarn me?â he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves.Â
Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. âYeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.â he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. âCauseâ sheâs really fucking pickyââ
You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. âYou would say snatch, you sick fuck.â you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brianâs shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face.Â
You canât tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him heâs constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But heâs only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you itâs obvious that he wants to fuck you. You donât see it.
Patrick wants to fuck everyone, youâre not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when heâs around you. That doesnât mean anything. Patrickâs just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. Itâs not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts.Â
Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. âAlright, alright. Put the claws away,â You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. âI actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.â He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. âLucky number 14.â
Youâre not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. Heâs objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But heâs kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. Heâs close enough that you can see heâs got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. Thereâs a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose.Â
His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least thatâs what youâve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.
Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what youâre thinking. âThatâs pretty impressive.â he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.
"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we donât look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."
You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.
Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. âYouâve been keeping up with my matches?â His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils.Â
You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. Youâve been caught. Shit.
You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. âOnly when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.â You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup.Â
Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. âStill thinking about me though.â he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.
His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."
Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."
His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you donât know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isnât coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.
It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You canât afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you donât want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you.Â
You donât know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.
âGod, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,â you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. âIâm trying to have fun.â A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didnât need to know that.
Patrickâs cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. âJesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? Iâm being sincere.â The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.
You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. âMaybe Iâd believe that if you werenât such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.â You say, tone mean and condescending. You know heâs right, on some level, but that doesnât stop you.Â
Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around.Â
He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. âYou know, now I do believe you.â he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. âYou must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.â
You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrickâs infuriatingly smug face. âWhat did you just say?â you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach.Â
Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. âYou heard me.â He says, jaw set stubbornly. âYou need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.âÂ
You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. âYouâre a fucking pig.â your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.
Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. âCome on, we both know youâre fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.â He says like itâs obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. âI can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yoââ
Youâre reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off.Â
Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirelyâ something that makes your stomach flip.
He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.Â
Youâre stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as youâre caught under Patrickâs heavy gaze.
He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness.Â
Itâs a tiny closet, youâre pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. âPatrick, Iââ You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you donât have any time to react before his lips are on yours.
The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrickâs lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.
âIf you donât want this, say the word and Iâll stop right now.â He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.
Yeah fucking right.
âZweig,â you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. âIf you donât shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, Iâll kill you.â
Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. âI liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.â
Youâre not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, youâve seen Patrick shirtless before, when heâs on the court and itâs above ninety or when heâs taking up space in Artâs dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where itâs actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso.Â
You canât help reaching out to touch him againâ running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp âvâ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.
âFuck,â you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferableâ all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.
Patrick doesnât even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so youâre pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.
You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. âYou have no idea how long Iâve waited for this.â He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. âIâm gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.â He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you arenât getting mad like you should be. Youâre just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.
You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. âI hate you.â You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. âShit!â Your hands grip the door so hard youâre scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. Youâd never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but heâs definitely the biggest cock youâve taken. Almost porn-star big.
âI know.â He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.
Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think youâd collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasnât practically holding you up.
His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that itâll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope heâs high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not itâll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.
You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussyâs overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.
âFuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good Iâm making you feel on this cock,â he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.
He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrickâs hand is the only one thatâs felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.
âShit, fuck- donât stop.â you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.
âThatâs it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,â Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in. You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. âSo fucking tightâ does it hurt, baby?â he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. âIs my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?â
âGodâ shit, yes!â you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. âHurts so fucking good.â You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.
âFuck yeah, Iâm gonna come,â he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. âI can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,â he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. âI know youâre close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.â
Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. âPatrick!â Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.
He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass.Â
The feeling of Patrickâs hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock.Â
You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. âYou came first.â You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly.Â
âShut the fuck up.â He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You donât say anything.
Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. Youâre ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him heâs using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.
He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.
You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where heâs buttoning up his atrocious shorts.Â
The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. âYou canât go back out like that.â you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks.Â
Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. âIâll text you later.â Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door.Â
âYou donât have my number.â You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.
He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. âArtâll give me your number. â He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted.Â
Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. âPromise.â He says with a reassuring nod, itâs the most sincere youâve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before heâs walking out and closing the door behind him.
You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.
Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.
arty where are you? iâve been looking for you are you okay? hello???
tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!
#â đŻđąđ”đąđđȘđą đžđłđȘđ”đŠđŽ âĄ#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#*places this in your notifs*#hehehehe#i actually have ANOTHER patrick fic that's probably gonna take me a sec#it's more plot heavy#and more angsty#the way i struggled with this#i was terrified the dialogue would sound cheesy#the group chat was consulted#and now we're here#and i like it more now lmao#okay bye!!!#love you!#challengers x reader#challengers x you#challengers fanfic#challengers smut#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig imagine
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Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!
Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.
Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).
A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.
And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.
Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.
If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)
Transcript under the readmore
Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: Iâm forcing Sam to take a break.
Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.
Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.
Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought youâve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights ⊠heâs quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how heâs OLD. And then thereâs the Supreme Courtâs decisions ⊠Chevron and immunity⊠Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.
Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. Whatâs going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesnât sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now itâll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any âofficialâ actions.
Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, heâll be allowed to as long as itâs in his job description? Steve: I donât think threatening state electors is âofficialâ business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder youâre stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills donât rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what Iâm hearing is that itâs now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.
Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states â abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access⊠Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is âtoo oldâ and ânot doing enough,â as if that is on par with Trumpâs desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesnât embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud âPFFT.â
Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: âOh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.â In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I canât believe heâs running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and weâre just twiddling our thumbs? Heâs letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people donât want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, itâs your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.
Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.
Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate thatâs more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President⊠I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator⊠well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.
Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didnât vote for Browder? Why didnât you tell me? Steve: And have you say âI told you soâ for the next century? Bucky: Heh.
Steve, with hand on his chin: Whatâs weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box canât represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term âZionisâ that itâs made productive conversations difficult.
Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And thatâs something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.
Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he canât handle compliments: Shush, Sam.
Bucky holds up a cake that has the number â107â on it: Itâs time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.
#happy birthday steve#supreme court#election#steve rogers#bucky barnes#sam wilson#11th year holy fuck#mine#my comic#oh hey i'm traveling for the next month so i might be not very responsive#longpost is long but I think everyone has the longpost shrinker by default now?
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Choices
Jack Hughes x fem!reader
summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say
notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing iâve ever written. the ending? meh. i donât hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings đ. i also lowkey donât like the title, but literally couldnât think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! đ«¶đŒ
can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself
request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her
[6.7k]
âAre you sure I donât need to dress up tonight? I know you said theyâre just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,â you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.
Youâre wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.
Since meeting Jackâs family last year, youâve been his plus one to every single trip heâs made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jackâs family for New Yearâs activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jackâs.
This year, youâre celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.
You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.
One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.
You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was âfoolishly and wholly in love with you.â You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.
That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.
âI promise, you donât have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,â he calls out from the bathroom where heâs âfixingâ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. âI mean, mom might not be too happy if youâre sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but Iâd sure enjoy the show.â
You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.
âIâm being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. Theyâre really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one anotherâs houses for dinner and fire talks,â you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadnât seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.
Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jackâs age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and sheâs a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.
You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jackâs childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you havenât known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but youâre always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.
Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be âTP manâ for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dadâs feet.
You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that werenât his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldnât figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.
You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm heâs been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.
âAnd Iâm being serious, Sunshine, what youâre wearing is fine and wonât change the fact that theyâre going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,â Jack walks over to stand in front of you.
You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.
âI justâŠI care about how the people that know you view me. Itâs important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that Iâm just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,â you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jackâs lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.
The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows youâre not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows youâre not with him for his money or fame.
He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldnât change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, heâs still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting âsounds like you have a few fans out there.â
Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. Itâs part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry theyâll think youâre not right for Jack, or that youâre only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.
Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.
âI promise you, no one here thinks that,â he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. âThere is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no oneâs opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think youâre with me for the wrong reasons?â He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.
You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.
âHey, look at me,â he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. âThen absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, weâre the only two in this relationship, so thatâs the only two people Iâll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?â
You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.
Youâre still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.
Jackâs eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.
âOn that note, letâs go get you something to eat,â he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.
Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldnât be ready for at least another hour.
After he was satisfied that you werenât going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.
The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.
Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a âlooks lazy but really took an hourâ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.
Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.
As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.
âOh! There they are! Arenât they just dolls? Look at them!â she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.
You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jackâs mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her sonâs.
âMom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,â Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.
âDonât be a grump, Jack. Sheâs telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you donât love being told you look pretty,â you scold.
Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.
âSee, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I donât have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,â Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.
You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.
âY/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,â Ellen breaks up yours and Jackâs moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.
âHi, itâs so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,â you say, removing your hand from Jackâs so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.
âOh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,â she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.
âOkay, Deb is it,â you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.
âCâmere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,â she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. âMy, youâve grown up, havenât you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.â
Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.
He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but youâve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.
âJust enjoy playing the game, is all,â he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.
âRon, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!â Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.
âJack, how are ya, boy?â Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a âguyâ hug, each having one arm slug over the otherâs shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.
âGetting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldnât wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,â Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.
âOh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, Iâm Ron,â Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.
âHi, Jackâs told me a lot about you two. Itâs nice to meet you, Mr. Lawsonâ you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.
âOh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, Iâm just Ron, dear,â he mirrors his wifeâs earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.
You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.
âNot to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?â you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.
âOh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,â Deb explains, looking over to Jack. âSheâs so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.â
You sense a slight rigidness in Jackâs body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple âYeah, thatâs a shame,â not offering any other words about the mystery girl.
You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadnât mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didnât know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didnât have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.
As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the houseâs yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.
âSee, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!â you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.
âNot fair, you didnât tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,â you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.
As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women youâve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.
She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think youâd ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.
âHey, everyone. Hope we didnât miss dinner,â she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.
âOh, not even close, honey. Youâre just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,â Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.
She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until sheâs stood right in front of Jack.
âOh, Jacky! Iâve missed you so much! Itâs been so long!â she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.
He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.
âWell, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasnât it Jacky,â she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.
The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.
âUhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,â Jack says, squeezing you to his side.
âOh! Youâre the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!â she coos, placing her hand on her chest. âJack, sheâs so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainerâs number,â she asks, looking around at everyone.
You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what sheâs trying to do.
âNot in the picture anymore. Didnât really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly playerâs throat when she came to visit me during an away game,â Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.
âWhat a shame. I liked her,â Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. âBut, Iâm sure youâre great too!â she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile youâve ever seen.
You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering âex-girlfriendâ in your ear, suddenly making Jackâs body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.
âOkay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,â Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.
âOh great, Iâm absolutely starving,â Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.
You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jackâs grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.
âOh, my sweet girl,â Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughterâs fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. âSheâs something else, isnât she? Such a little firecracker,â she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.
âYeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,â Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.
Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.
The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.
âJack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I canât get enough of it,â you ask your boyfriend whoâs sitting to your right.
He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. âThat good? Or you want more?â
âNo, thatâs good. Gotta save room for dessert,â you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.
Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.
âOh, Iâm so full,â you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. âI wish I could be like you, Y/N, Iâd love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, Iâm already so bloated as it is,â she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. âYouâre so lucky youâve already snagged a man and donât have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.â
You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.
You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughterâs words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Lukeâs mouth is dropped open.
Jackâs hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.
You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.
âOh, no, donât stop on my account. Iâd kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know youâre loved, no matter what you look like,â she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.
You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyoneâs eye.
Luke coughs, a faint âbitchâ heard by your ears.
âOkay, I think itâs time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,â Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.
âGreat idea, let me help you,â Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughterâs words, starts to stand.
âNo, I got it,â Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyoneâs plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.
You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.
âHere, let me help, too,â Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.
The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.
You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent âYou okay?â, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.
You look up again, straight at Sarahâs parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughterâs malicious words.
You meet Ellenâs eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her itâs alright.
Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion theyâre unaware of the shift in atmosphere.
âEllen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. Itâs been too long since Iâve had a slice,â he speaks, unable to read the room.
Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.
âIâll be right back. Iâm gonna go help Jack,â you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting âyour daughterâs a bitch!â in their face your cue to leave the table.
You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.
You walk through the house, calling out Jackâs name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.
âJack, I donât get it. What does she have that I donât? What about her makes her any better than me?â you hear the sound of Sarahâs voice coming from the foyer.
âWhat the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you donât!â you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.
Were they talking about you?
âJack, we were good together! We had fun. I donât understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!â it was Sarahâs turn to raise her voice.
Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. âWhat part of I didnât want to donât you understand?â Jack spits out. âYou had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.â
You can practically see the veins popping out on Jackâs forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.
âAll you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didnât care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!â he shouts again. âThe fact you just admitted you cared more about being the âitâ couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.â
âWell, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,â Sarah says, scoffing.
âSee, thatâs what Iâm talking about,â Jack huffs out. âY/N doesnât care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not âJack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pickâ,â he puts on his announcer voice.
âAll my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,â Your heart breaks at Jackâs voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.
âHell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,â he continues. âWith Y/N, thatâs far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friendâs brother,â he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.
âHer favorite fun fact to tell people about me isnât a stat, or how many hat tricks Iâve scored,â he keeps going. âItâs that I love to sing Shakira when Iâm in the shower. Or that Iâm the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,â Jack lightly laughs.
âHey, Y/N, everything okay-â you hear Quinnâs voice rounding the corner.
Cutting him off with a âshhhâ you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.
âSo, yeah, I would say Iâm sorry you didnât get what you wanted out of me, but Iâm not. Iâm not sorry that I broke things off with you. Iâm not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And Iâm not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,â Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.
âI am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldnât have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didnât take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid whatâs happening right now. I am sorry that you canât begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,â He finishes.
âYou know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. Youâre really going to propose to her?â Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.
âOf course itâs true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that sheâs the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,â you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.
Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.
Before you know what youâre doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.
âY/N, no, wait,â Quinn tries to stop you, but itâs too late.
âYou bought me a ring?â you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.
âOh, great, the woman of the hour,â Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.
You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.
You turn your head to Jack, whoâs face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinnâs.
âJack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?â you ask him, begging him to answer you.
Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.
âRightâŠâ is all you can say, trying to digest whatâs happening.
You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.
âListen, I donât care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I donât appreciate you coming to his familyâs house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and Iâm the one getting the ring,â you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. âSo, if you donât mind, Iâd appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .â
You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jackâs face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.
âGod, you donât have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. Youâre not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I donât need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,â Sarah says before she storms out of the room.
You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.
âThat wasâŠthe hottest thing Iâve ever seen you do,â Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.
You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.
âOw! What was that for?â Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him
âFor not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlierâ you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word
âI didnât want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,â he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.
âYeah, well a lot of good that did,â you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.
âGod, woman, stop hitting me!â Jack yelps again. âWhat the hell was that one for?â
âFor buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!â you exclaim, throwing your arms around.
âWell, I donât know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,â he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.
âStill. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didnât want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?â you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.
âI knew that you were it from the moment I met you. Thereâs absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,â Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. âAlso, you do snore, and I think itâs cute, donât worry.â
You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.
âSo, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,â Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.
âLuke, youâre such an idiot,â Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.
âWhat? Itâs true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,â Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. âWhy do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?â
âThanks, Luke,â you chuckle, shaking your head.
âWell, I guess itâs time to tell mom that she knows youâre proposing,â Quinn says, looking towards Jack.
âOh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and Iâm not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,â Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.
âDo I at least get to see the ring?â you ask him, hopeful.
âNope,â Jack shakes his head, popping the âpâ.
You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.
âWait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean itâs here? In this house?â Jackâs face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.
âNoâŠâ
Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.
âOh no, you donât!â he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.
He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.
âNot fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,â you pout again.
As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.
Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.
And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jackâs room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.
#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes#new jersey devils#nhl#hockey#nhl blurb#nhl fanfic#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl players#nhl hockey#nhledit#nhl x reader#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey smut#hughes brothers#jh86
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4th july pt2! - chris sturniolo x fem!reader
pt1 here
âthat chris by any chance?â your best friend tara says as she finally jumps into bed. youâre staying the night at jake, johnnies and carringtons place and youâre wrapped tightly under the duvet in their spare room. tara has been running around still with the three boys, but as soon as your phone altered you to that first text, youâd excused yourself.
you smirk as you look at her and she gives you an eyebrow raise.
âi didnât know you were talking to him like THATâ she says now. âwhen i saw him spinning you around in the pool i thought nothing of it until i saw his hands on your ass.â
a laugh escapes you, your head sinking into your pillow as tara leans forward to hold your arm, laughing with you.
âiâm seriousâ she choked out. âi didnât say a thing to anyone thinking iâd leave you both to it until you started practically fucking in the poolâ
âtara!â you squeal. âwe werenât fucking in the pool!â
she laughs, that signature tara yummy laugh, and then rolls her eyes. âokay maybe i was being dramatic there but, jesus, he looks like a good kisserâ
you chuckle slightly, âhe is.â
âyou could have invited him back here ya know, jake wouldnât have mind. i could have slept somewhere elseâ
youâre listening but sending across your last text to chris, butterflies in your stomach at the flirting once again that now felt much deeper before shutting your phone off and placing it under your pillow, turning round to face tara.
âhe wants to take me for dinner tomorrowâ
tara eyes go wide. âoh fuck. wait. so this is more than just -â
she stops as she doesnât know how to explain it, but you know exactly what she means. yes, for now, this is defiantly more than a one night stand. at least, you secretly hope. his words of being respectful could all be a plot. you might have dinner tomorrow and realise that actually, youâd be better off as friends. but for now, entertaining a thought of something more with chris sturniolo was making you giddy.
âyeah. i think soâ you confirm.
tara slaps her head back onto the pillow and looks up at the ceiling.
âyou did look cute together, im not gonna lieâ
you smile as your mind goes back to the party just a few hours ago. youâre still drunk now, but after youâd got out the pool the drinking slowed down.
you had stayed in the pool for only a short while after, your hair and make up completely ruined yet you didnât have a care. outfit completely soaked through. but the entire time you couldnât deattach your lips. itâs like all that flirting and lack of alone time together had bought a force over you that neither of you knew how to stop. but when you realised you were the only two in the pool, you pulled him out. hand in hand.
your friends had noticed by that point, and a few typical claps and cheers erupted from them, which in your drunken state had only made you laugh. as tara had suggested, no one knew you and chris were actually talking as much as you were and you knew everyone around you thought it was just a drunken kiss. but as the night went on and you both changed, jake nice enough to let chris raid his wardrobe for some comfier and none wet clothes, you changing into your overnight clothes youâd already bought, you couldnât stay away from each other once more.
the party continued on behind you, but you stayed firmly close to chris. heâd thrown on a pair of black ed hardy shorts that jake had no intention of ever wearing and you were in your short pyjama bottoms, and at every single moment from then your skin was touching. it started as sitting back in the circle you left, legs crossed and knees touching. which led to the occasional arm touch as you laughed at each others jokes. that lead to you leaning into him as you got tired, to eventually sitting inbetween his legs, his chest as a back support as he lay his chin atop your head as you spoke to the people around you. his hands around your waist and your hands clasped against his.
when it was time to leave, you made him promise to text when he got home as you walking him to the front door, but it was only second before he was pushing you against the wall. his hands under your jaw as your kiss deepened, and at one point you where sure that actually, scrap the dinner, he was going to end up staying the night or taking you home, before he finally pulled away, a breathless âiâll see you tomorrowâ escaping his lip before he turned to meet his brothers in the car.
you had not felt this way in a long time. had never had a guy treat you like an actual human being and not just someone to get into bed. so yes, tomorrow couldnât come quick enough. hangover or no hangover, you were excited to spend some time with him.
"do you like him?" tara says now, looking at you, and you give her a smile.
"its too early to say, isn't it?" you ask, and tara rolls her eyes.
"im assuming you agreed to dinner tomorrow?"
"yes"
she laughs. "so yes. you like him. when was the last time you went to dinner with somebody?"
and you're laughing too, because deep down you know that chris might most defiantly become more than just a few dates.
tagged : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss
#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#tara yummy#jake webber#johnnie guilbert#carrington usa
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God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)
Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if youâve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like itđ€ Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.
Word count:Â 2.8k
Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.
You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels werenât forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.
Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julieâs Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.
For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.
âWhy did Merritt say she couldnât make it, again?â Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar youâd inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people youâd gone to high school with and definitely didnât want to see again.
You shrugged. âI texted her earlier, and she said she couldnât make it, something came up.â
âIt sucks she doesnât hang out anymore,â Julie said. âDid we do something?â
âI mean, her dadâs in a coma, and her momâs working all the time with those gross murders going on,â Lisa said. âSheâs probably the only one keeping things together at home.â
The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.
âIâm gonna stop by sometime this week. Itâs been way too long since any of us have seen her,â you resolved.
Lisa and Julie agreed, though you werenât sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured youâd be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.
Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.
âFuck,â you groaned. âIâm gonna call it a night.â
âAre you sure?â Lisa asked.
âYeah, Iâm gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.â
âWe can go with you,â Julie said.
You shook your head. âDonât end your night early because of me.â
âAlright, text us when you get home.â
When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasnât even midnight yet.
With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.
âHey Mer, itâs me. We missed you tonight!â You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. âLook, thereâs a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. Itâs not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyondââ A catcall interrupted your rambling. âLook, just call me or something, at least let me know youâre alright? Bye, babe.â
The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover youâd inevitably have in the morning.Â
Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didnât pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.
âHey, nice costume,â you told him.
âOh, this isnât a costume.â
You laughed. âRight.â Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. âYou know itâs a shame we didnât run into each other earlier tonight, we probably couldâve won a couples contest or something.â
He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasnât him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.
You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.
Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.
He handed you the Gatorade youâd been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.
You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.
âDonât tell me you plan on driving home,â he said.
You shook your head. âI came out here with my friends."
"And they just left you like this? Alone?"
"I told them I'd get an Uber.â
âThey'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.â
Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasnât the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.
He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin.Â
Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor.Â
âOh my god, are you actually a priest?â you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.
âI told you it wasnât a costume.â
âShit.â
âFather Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you donât believe me.â He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. âWhatâs your address?â
After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadnât told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes.Â
Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidityâhis was more modern, you supposed.
âHave you heard about those murders around town?â you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.
âYes, our parishâs publication has been reporting on it,â he said. âI'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.â
You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. âLois is working with a nun?â
âYou know detective Tryon?â
âSheâs my best friendâs mom,â you said. âI went to her house all the time growing up.â
âYou must know her pretty well, then.â
âYeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,â you said. âStill, I canât imagineâŠwhoeverâs behind it must be depraved. What heâs doingâitâs not even human, itâs animal.â
âHe?â
âI donât think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.â
âYou might be right about that,â he said solemnly.
You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up.Â
Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.
Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldnât wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.
âThanks, Father Charlie,â you said. âI owe you one.â
âActually, mind if I use your bathroom?â he asked.
You shook your head. ââCourse not. Come on up.â
Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.
You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.
âJust letting my friends know I got home safe,â you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.
You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. âThe bathroomâs through the kitchen, first door on the right.â
âThank you.â
Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.
You never got a chance to.
âSo, why this costume?â he asked, startling you.
You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. âOh, umâI thought it was funny.â
âWhatâs funny about it?â
âWell, nuns arenât supposed to have sex, and this costume isââ
âPornographic," he said. "I mean, itâs something you get fucked in.â
âYeah,â you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.
âChastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and youââ he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, âyou mock it.â
You knew you shouldâve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. âIâm so sorry, Father.â
âYou will be. Get on your knees.â
âEx-excuse me?â
âDonât be crude. This is about repentance.â
The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.
"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.
You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.
The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.
âSimply praying wonât do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."
Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.
"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.
You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.
He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.
Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.
"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."
Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.
He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sinâŠwhy else would you have put this costume on tonight?"
Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.
âDepraved, animal, barbaric,â he said, his voice low and dangerous. âIs that what you think of me?â
You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. âNoâno, you canât beââ
âI was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,â he mused, âI just canât pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.â
âIâm sorry,â you choked out.
âDonât worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,â he whispered.
âNoâFather, please donâtââ
#father charlie x reader#father charlie mayhew x reader#father charlie mayhew#father charlie grotesquerie#father charlie smut#grotesquerie#charlie mayhew#father charlie#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez
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đ đŹđđšđ đ đŹđđš đźđ€đȘđ§ đđđ§đĄ
đđđđđđđđ. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?
wc . 7,625
tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!
.ââââââ°âââââ.ââââââ°âââââ.ââ
áŽșáŽŒá” áŽŸáŽžáŽŹá”᎔áŽșᎳ : your girl by lana del rey
0:57 ââââ|âââ -2:10
° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . +
June 21st
You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. Youâd just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.
Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, youâre glued to your window and you darenât leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.
July 1st
Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But itâs all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, youâd finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But youâve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.
You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you canât help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you donât wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.
Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.
âHi.â you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. âIâve noticed you guys have moved in next door, Iâm Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.â The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.
âThank you so much, I really appreciate this, Itâs so nice to see a friendly face out here.â she chuckles, pulling her childâs head close to her and stroking her dark hair.
You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. âItâs hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didnât want yâall to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure youâll all love it here. Especially you.â you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.
âGabriel saluda a la simpĂĄtica dama.â her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her childâtheyâre kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. Heâs set, devoted, maybeâbut how devoted?
âSheâs so precious.â you coo.
Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. Heâs set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.
The game has begun, and youâre ready to see just how far you can push it.
4th July.
The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. Itâs almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel itâthis strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.
You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. âThanks for introducing yourself to my wife. â he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. âShe really appreciates it and sheâs glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.â he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.
âItâs nothing, donât think anything of it.â now itâs your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. Youâre unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.
âDidnât catch you name by the way?â he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.
âY/N, Y/N L/N.â
âWell, Y/N, youâre always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, weâd love seeing your face around.â perhaps itâs pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, youâre interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming âDaddy!â, and hugging his leg fondly.
Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. Youâre simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.
And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.
10th July
You like to keep yourself busy when you arenât drowned in school work, practising or doing your
part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, youâre left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.
âIâve got a busy day tomorrow. â you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.
âWell I can be quick baby, in and out.â he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way heâs using your car as a crutch that heâs far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.
âI donât like sloppy hurried work, Iâd want for you to take care with me.â You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.
âI wonât be sloppy baby, promiseee.â he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why youâre drawn to older menâmen who know what they want and donât need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.
Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt heâs wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. Thereâs a certain satisfaction in knowing that heâs seen you, that heâs aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.
23rd July
Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So youâre wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose wonât turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing wonât budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but itâs no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.
You find yourself in front of your neighboursâ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesnât take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.
Bingo.
His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, âHey, Iâm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?â you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.
âWhat hose?â he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.
âThe hose in my backyard,â you explain, your tone light. âI need it to fill up my pool.â
âYour pool huh?â his eyes keep drifting all over, heâs clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.
âYeah,â you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. âIâm having a pool party with my friends, but I canât seem to get the hose to turn on.â You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if itâs just for a few minutes.
âI can help you turn it on.â
âGreat!â you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.
âOh no. Is the water broken?â you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.
âIt probably needs a minute.â he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.
âI guess, my water systemâs broke. Iâll just call the-â
âI can help you. Itâll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.â
âReally? Thank you.â you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, heâs in your territory, your domain, and youâre determined to make the most of it.
He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.
âCan I get you a drink or something?â you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying heâll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you canât help but notice the little thingsâthe way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.
Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.
âThere, that should do it,â he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.
You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You canât help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.
âWell, I guess I owe you one,â you say, turning to him with a playful smile.
He chuckles, shaking his head. âDonât worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.â
But thereâs something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.
2nd August
The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky thatâs perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.
Heâs settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. Heâs asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he canât seem to shake the feeling of restlessness thatâs creeping in.
The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the dayâthe brightness, the heat, the monotonous soundsâis getting to him, and heâs on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.
His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next doorâyour window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. Youâre standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and youâre slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.
Miguelâs grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. Youâre completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if youâre savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.
Heâs hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. Thereâs something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. Itâs as if youâre performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.
For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows itâs something heâll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting momentâbut the truth is, heâs in awe. He canât believe what he just saw, and yet he canât let it go.
He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sunâs heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. Thereâs no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. Itâs a secret heâll keep, a memory heâll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.
5th August
Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which youâd rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.
With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.
Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. Youâre already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.
Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.
âNeed some help with that?â
You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.
âI saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,â he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.
You canât help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. âWhy? Donât you think I can do it on my own?â
He doesnât seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. âNo, itâs just that youâre bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down youâre crouching.â
âOuch,â you reply with a mock wince.
âSorry,â he says, though thereâs a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You chuckle, shaking your head. âI mean, if you donât mind, I would appreciate the help.â
Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You canât help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.
âWhere do you want this?â he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.
âJust on that countertop will do, thanks,â you reply, pointing to the kitchen.
Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, heâs already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind canât help but fawn over his effortless strength. Thereâs something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.
With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but youâre not quite ready to let him go just yet.
âHey, would you like something to drink? Itâs the least I can do to thank you,â you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.
He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. âSure, why not?â
You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.
âYou old enough to be having this beer?â Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.
âItâs not mine,â you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. âA friend left it over.â
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. âHow old are you then?â
âTwenty,â you reply, your voice steady, though you canât help but feel a bit exposed by the question.
âRight,â he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.
The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesnât seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, thereâs a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way heâs been lingering a little longer than necessaryâthereâs something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but itâs growing stronger with every passing moment.
âYou know,â he begins, his voice low and smooth, âyouâre pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.â
His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.
âIâll keep that in mind,â you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.
Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but thereâs a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.
10th August
Itâs late when heâs in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. Youâre finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.
The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. Itâs like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.
âYou got a boyfriend?â he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.
âNo.â you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.
âReally? A girl like you doesnât have one? Thatâs new.â he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.
âA girl like me? What does that mean?â Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. Itâs sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.
âYou know, a pretty girl.â heâs smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.
Youâre charmed, âYou think Iâm a pretty girl?â you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.
âVery.â he responds, the both of you staring at each otherâs lips, imaging each otherâs flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, itâs deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.
âWell,â you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. âIâve never had a older boyfriend before.â
âOh yeah?â it is slow and reverberating when he says that.
âI bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Donât you?â you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.
âI wouldnât know. Iâve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, heâd treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.â
You hum, âHow good? Tell me.â
âHeâd make you feel things youâve never felt before, make you see things youâve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.â his voice is low and grungy, heâs falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.
âSounds good to me. Such a shame there isnât a hunky older man to teach me these new things.â youâre whispering now. âWould you show me, Mr OâHara?â The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, âMr OâHaraâ a name to which youâve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.
Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and youâre reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Fingerâs nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.
The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.
âWe shouldnât be doing this.â he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing heâll fall for the trap again.
âI know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesnât it?â youâre breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.
âFuck kid, the things you do to me.â he groans and he dives in again.
17th August
âNgh- fuck.â youâre crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as youâre worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the otherâs seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. Heâs relentless.
âBeing such a good girl fâ me yâknow that?â he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. âYou look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. â
Youâre fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. âHold on, patience,â he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.
ââ M gonna come Miggy.â you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. Youâre dripping and drenched. Itâs absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, youâve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. Heâd call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isnât as innocent either.
âI know baby, I know, just hold out fâme, kay.â
âFuuuckk.â tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.
âLooks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. Youâre gonna have to open wide for me.â he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. Youâre slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. âWhat a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?â his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.
âI asked you a question, youâre gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?â you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.
You canât even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.
âWanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.â
âWant me to make you feel good? Wanna come.â
âYes, please,please,please,please.â youâre screaming and chanting âpleaseâ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.
âCum baby, come all over.â you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and youâre cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. Youâre twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.
With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, âDid so good baby.â
23rd August
Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as youâre pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. Youâve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. Thatâs how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.
Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.
âGo slower, slower.â you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if heâs brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.
âAtta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?â he says lowly. Youâre biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.
âFuck youâre sexy. Think you can come for me?â Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.
24th August
âNice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?â youâre gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. âThere we go, such a pretty girl.â he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he wouldâve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didnât want to seem like a quitter, you didnât want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasnât right for you.
âYou like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuckâ You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. âDonât worry baby I havenât forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.â He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.
âDirty fuckin girl.â he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. âFuck princess.â he groans. â Want me to cum all over your face princess?â you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.
He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. âOpen wide baby.â You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.
âFuck you look good like this.â
26th August
You would say that youâre surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but youâd be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that heâs simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isnât surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, youâre rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. âCanât go anymore, baby.â
âWhy not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.â
His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and youâre crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.
âSo good.â you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. Heâs passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that youâre dripping unto his chin. He loves it.
âWait, wait, Iâm gonna come, âM gonna come, gonna come.â you tell him too late, because when you do, youâre not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.
âWell, you may you didnât come, but you definitely squirted.â
28th August
âRub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.â his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wifeâs suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguelâs new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you donât think youâll stop anytime soon.
âFuck.â a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. âDid I tell you you could put youâre fingers in, huh?â Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times heâs been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. Thereâs something about you that pulls him back, youâre not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things youâre doing to him.
âDonât care.â you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. âIâm horny and youâre not here to do anything about it.â
âWatch it. Weâll see what Iâll do when I get back.â
You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. âWish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,â you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. Youâre teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind canât help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. â Fuck Miggy, need you right now.â you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.
âMaybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.â
âMmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.â you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now youâre really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.â With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.
âCome here and show me the mess youâve made baby.â you donât hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. âPut em in your mouth and suck real good.â you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. âAtta girl.â
âLook at the mess I made.â you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.
âWhat a good girl.â
August 31st
The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where youâd have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy youâre feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, papâs. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.
âGonna miss you, baby, you know that?â he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.
âGonna miss you too,â you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.
âYou naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.â you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. âWeâll see whoâll be laughing in a second.â
In a second youâre moaning louder. Thereâs something that heâs doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you donât know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.
âOh fuck. oh my fucking God.â One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because itâs too much, he carries right on. Youâre high up with the way youâre being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon youâre unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.
âYeah, who's laughing now.â he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and youâre melting into it. The two of you donât usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time itâs different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.
This truly is the end.
SEPTEMBER 1ST
+ ° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + + ° . àčă»Â° âč . + ° . àčă»Â° âč . +
count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.
#wattpad#ao3#fanfic#fanfiction#across the spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#miguel 2099#miguel o hara#miguel o hara x reader smut#miguel x reader smut#atsv miguel x reader
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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader
CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex
WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)
Summary:Â
Maybe you're single for a reason. Youâre too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.
So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.
Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!
Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon
Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**
©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.
âCan I get you a drink, princess?â
When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, itâs on the fourth of July at your uncleâs house. Itâs a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.Â
Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something âa little too racyâ for his tastes. Youâre pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about âwhat young folks should be listening toâ instead.Â
The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, youâll be three plates in before the meat is done. Thereâs coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know sheâs going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.
The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.Â
The one cousin youâre closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancĂ© showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.
Your family normally has something to say about PDAâa stupid quip about acting âtoo grownâ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesnât careâjust like you, thatâs why you like her so much even though her fiancĂ© is sucking on her face like itâs his last day on Earth.
Shiu Kong is niceâgentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. Heâs enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when sheâs around, and worships the ground she walks on. Theyâve been together for a few years and youâve never had a problem with him.
But that just might change today because heâs brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts canât stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.
âOh honey why donât you sit down, donât be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.â
âThatâs not steroids? Itâs gotta be. Donât play.â
âHow much you bench?â
Itâs annoying. So fucking annoying but you canât help but agree. Heâs a little olderâmaybe early thirtiesâbut dangerously attractive.
Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass thatâs too fucking juicy. Heâs a big manâa burly man and unfortunately, thatâs how you like them.
Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You donât tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.Â
They canât stand it.
And right now, you canât stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. Heâs a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.Â
Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you donât care for.Â
Princess.
Like youâre a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.Â
Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, âIâm good.â
Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesnât offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.
You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that youâre sure itâll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.
Four, six, eight?Â
Fuck.
You donât show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. Thereâs a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldnât arouse you, but god it does.Â
His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. Theyâre large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.
âSee something you like?âÂ
Heâs ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.
âTo be honest, I donât really see much.â
You donât give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.
The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncleâs house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.Â
You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.
Of course, Toji would ogle you. Youâre confident enough to know your beauty.
A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.
Youâre good-looking. But youâve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. Youâre too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.Â
However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that youâre entertaining the thought. You hate that youâre imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.
God, get yourself together.
To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncleâs quiet kitchen. Thereâs only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that youâve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.Â
You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.Â
Toji wouldnât want a woman like you.
Youâre too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who arenât worth your time, it can get lonely.Â
To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think youâre too picky. Youâre too much work, âyou think you know everythingâ.Â
âMen will always have a wandering eye, itâs up to you to keep them in check, girl.â
âHoney, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.â
âThey love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and youâll keep him forever.â
Bullshit.
Itâs bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. Itâs bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in returnâwhen he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You donât mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.
But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, itâs left you a little bitter.
Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold âfor better or worseâ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when youâre backed into a corner.
You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.
Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.Â
You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you donât notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite auntsâthe bitchy oneâplayfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. Itâs deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know itâs him.
Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.
âYou been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,â your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating itâs ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. âYouâre normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?â
There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your exâs infidelity is ammunition you donât want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.Â
You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.
âNo, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.â
You can feel the noise before you hear itâa characteristic and sharp âmmmâ that seems to be ingrained in your familyâs DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.
âYou gotta watch out for this one, Toji. Sheâs always been an outspoken one. Too good for âem all and likes to be a little mean to her men.â
You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.Â
âYouâre right. The fact that I wonât settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. OrâŠwas it the one before him?â
You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.
Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her motherâs mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. Itâs a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like youâre in the trenches of war.Â
You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the âyou always got something to sayâ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your auntâs shoulder.
âLetâs get you a drink, huh? Didnât you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?â She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, itâs letting a good-looking man touch her.
The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredientsâa mix of sugar, flour, and baking sodaâinto the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your auntâs words replaying in your mind like a broken record.
Donât cry. Donât fucking cry. Donâtâ
The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.
âI would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your auntâs head.â Heâs not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. âI like a fight, but Iâm a guest and the food looks good.âÂ
Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you canât help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.
It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.Â
âSo he cheated? Most men are pigs.â
âBut not you, huh?â you canât help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.
In your peripheral, he shrugs. âI know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. Iâm a manâŠbut Iâm a loyal man.â
When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.Â
âSo what is it you like in a woman, Toji?â
Itâs a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You donât want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you donât feel like letting your family win today.Â
Tojiâs strong gaze certainly isnât helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.Â
Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and youâre too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he wonât harm you. Thereâs something about him thatâs warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if youâve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.Â
Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and youâre swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheapâheâs put together in the most basic senseâbut it still smellsâŠgood.
âI like a woman who knows what sheâs about. Independent and doesnât fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isnât afraid to put anyone in their place.â
He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.
âI like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake sheâs bakingâŠâ Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that heâs describing you. âThe red dress definitely is a bonus.â
That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldnât see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between whatâs exposed of your cleavage.Â
But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.
And as much as you want to, you canât give in. Because youâll hate yourself tomorrow.
So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.Â
âDescribing me in place of your âideal womanâ? Thatâs boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, sheâs got fillers in her ass so thatâs more curves for you to âgrab and squeezeâ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.â
Tojiâs eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. Itâs surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you donât dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.Â
âNah, nothing against fillers, but Iâm more of a natural man myself,â he admits.
âCellulite and stretch marks?â you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing butâŠmildly curious.
You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like heâs hit the jackpot.Â
âThe whole package, princess.â
Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. Heâs funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.
His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and youâre unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you canât think of anything right now.Â
You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.Â
Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though youâre further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if itâs sitting right on the skin below your nose.
âDo your moves always work on women?â you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.
He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You donât bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.
âOn the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. ButâŠobviously not on you.â
âIâm not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.â Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.
He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adamâs apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.
âWhatâs it going to take?â
His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But youâre nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.
âI have a name so stop calling me princess. Iâm not a royal, so unless youâre offering me land, money, or power, I donât want to hear it.â
He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and youâre reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.
âWhat else?â he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.
âIf youâre expecting sex from me, think again. I donât do one-night stands or friends with benefits. Itâs messy and I just donât have the strength for it.â
He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldnât. You cannot be this turned on by this man.
âNot even if I have a big dick?â he teases.
Heâs annoying and youâre mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. âWhat, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?â
He full-on grins, the fucker. âIf thatâs what it takes.â
But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. âPublic indecency is a crime and I also donât like to look at cock until after Iâve eaten something. Itâs nauseating.â
Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks youâre joking. But youâre not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.Â
Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.Â
âWhat are you bothering me for anyway,â you canât help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. âI have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.â
At first, he doesnât respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You donât like that heâs so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if youâre someone and not something to fucking eat. Youâre a fucking mess.Â
His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.Â
The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. Youâre sure he doesnât really care.
Sheâs your favorite for a reason because she understands. Sheâs not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.
âTime to eat. Honey, why donât you show Toji whatâs what before your uncles steal everything.â
***
He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy auntâs gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.
âIâve never had some of this before,â he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookoutâŠhis first black cookout at least. Strangely, youâre proud to be the one to guide him along.
âWhat is this?â he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. Youâre both at a small table alone and away from the noise.
âCollard greensâŠitâs a cabbage thatâs cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.âÂ
You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.Â
You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.
You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.
âWhy donât you get up and get him another plate?â
Why donât you shut the fuck up?
You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.Â
Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesnât have to, keep him fed.
Maybe this is why youâre single. You want to scream. You wantâ
âDonât listen to her. Youâre still eating, donât move,â he levels, and you donât miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. âThe same seltzer as before?â he asks, pointing to your drink that you didnât realize was empty.
âIââ, you fumble before clearing your throat. âI like the strawberry oneâŠif thereâs any left.â
He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.
Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.
âDefending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.â
âShut the fuck up,â you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.Â
âHeâs Shiuâs best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?â
âShut the fuck up,â you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until sheâs tired or youâre swinging at her.
She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. âHeâs single too. And youâve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he wonât leave you alone.â You donât reply, because youâre mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. Itâs nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; itâs just figuring out if heâs genuine thatâs the headache. âWhen the music gets louder tonightâŠor when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him onââ
âDidnât I sayâfuck you.â
She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesnât mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, youâre the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.
âSeriously though, cousin. Shiu doesnât keep many around, but theyâve been friends since they were kids. Thatâs a good sign right?â
Thereâs some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.
And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.Â
Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle wonât shut up about (heâs drunk), your other unclesâand a few cousins they will definitely conâhave a table already bustling with spades. At first, youâre unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but heâs partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good. Â
Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. Heâs frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.
You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.
âHelp me.â He doesnât bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you canât help the way your stomach flips.Â
One of your uncleâs snickers. âShe doesnât know how to play.â You do. âBut she can try.â
Youâre so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. Youâre in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you canât breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.
Any other time and you wouldnât hesitate to turn around and knock a manâs teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, heâs so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like youâve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.
âDonât grab me like that,â you canât help but grumble, only mildly put off.
âI improvised.â Itâs a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you donât drip all over his thigh. âNow help me win.â
You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you donât complain about it.
***
âYou donât dance?â Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. Itâs almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.
You shrug at Tojiâs question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.Â
You suddenly realize that itâs just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, sheâs probably riding him on your uncleâs bed. The thought makes you shudder.
âAre you cold?â he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.
It is cooler now, but thatâs not why you were shivering. Youâre ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isnât light enough to show when youâre blushing, but youâre burning with nervousness.
âStop being so nice to me,â you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. âIâmâIâll only be mean to you in return.â
For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe âtchâ that makes you gape at him. âWhy because youâre mean to men?â he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.Â
It raises your hackles instantly, and youâre talking back before you know it. âExactly. So why donât you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pantsââ
You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.
âYou just donât like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.âÂ
For once, you donât have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. Itâs easy for you to fight back and push them away, youâre good at it. But you canât fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.
You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didnât make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.
You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasnât been so bad, and youâre not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. Youâre still apprehensive about his intentionsâŠbut he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncleâs well-kept grass.
âFine. If I let you be nice to meâŠwhat would be the next thing you would say?â
You canât look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.Â
Heâs grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if youâre underwater.
âHow about you tell me about your family?â he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.
Itâs a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if youâve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesnât leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You donât know if heâs just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you donât want to leave.
So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousinsâwhere they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. Itâs incredibly personalâŠmaybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know heâs paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.
Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly donât mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.
âSo sheâs been married twice?â his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.
You nod. âShe got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.â
âCali?â he questions, confused.
You snort softly. âCalifornia.â You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. âYou donât know your states?â
âIâm foreign, not stupid.â The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you canât help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. âI know my states!â He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. âFlorida, Kansasââ
âIâm not asking you to prove yourself!â you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But heâs not listening.
âMontana, New YorkâŠthereâs another oneâŠthe big one.â
You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.Â
âI beg your finest pardonâŠthe big one?â
The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and heâs angry at being questioned. âDonâtâitâs the one down below!â
âIn relation to what?â
His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that heâs pouting. Normally you would revel in thisâŠbutâ
âTexas,â you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. âThe big one down below is Texas.â
He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. Youâre too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.
You hate just how rebellious you like to be. âWhat, you gonna kiss me?â
The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you donât have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.
âI wouldnât take it without asking,â he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, thereâs a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but heâs so close that you donât care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and youâre fighting to stay in control.
âSo can I?â he asks, voice deep with temptation. âKiss you?â
You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.Â
âIâŠdependsâŠare you any good?â
He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. Heâs completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But heâs enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.
âJuryâs still out.â
You donât trust yourself to say âyesâ. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. Youâve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, heâs hot. Heâs been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.
You deserve a reward.
So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.
âToji!â one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. âCome help me with the fireworks, would you?â
You donât pay attention to his response, because youâre already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your familyâŠkissing a man that youâve just met. You know you shouldnât careâŠbut itâs so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.
***
Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.Â
You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anywayâmost of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so itâs a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.
Should you tell Toji goodbye?
No.
No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until youâre seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until heâ
For fuckâs sake.
You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. Thereâs a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, youâre too fucking short.
You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.Â
Unbeknownst to you, heâs standing behind you. You didnât even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. Youâre frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.
Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. Youâre combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.Â
âYour uncle interrupted us,â Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.
âIt probably wasnât a good idea anyway,â you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.
âWhy not?â
Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.
âIâll leave you alone, if thatâs what you want. Iâll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want toâŠeven though you shouldnât give a fuck about what your family thinksâŠbut I would really like that kiss.â
Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. Itâs a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isnât hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.
Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.Â
One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.
âYou better make it good,â you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.
He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. Heâs a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and itâs the perfect combination that you want more of.Â
His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.
You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once itâs gone, youâll be a woman unhinged.
He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and ohâ
You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that youâre losing awareness of where you are. Youâre lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have toâ
Heâs guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.Â
âToji,â you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.
One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.
You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.
âToji, we canât,â you swallow against the dryness in your throat. âSomeone could see.â
You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.
âShit,â he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You donât care enough to tell him where to go; youâre too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.Â
You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you canât bring yourself to care. Heâs on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.
âTake them off,â you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before heâs sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.Â
âGod, youâre so fucking wet. So damn pretty,â he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.
You canât be sure if heâs talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, itâs catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if itâs the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like itâs the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.
He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. Heâs mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.
âYour bitch of an ex ever eat you out?â
You really donât want to think about him right now, and you also donât like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.
But thereâs a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, âEvery now and then.â
Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.
âEvery now and then,â he parrots, voice incredulous as if heâs heard the most insane thing ever, like he canât believe it.
He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.
âIâll make you feel good, princess. Donât you worry.âÂ
The nickname doesnât have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.
Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if youâre okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a womanâs body to determine what she wants. Itâs glorious when itâs done right.Â
And god, does Toji do it right.
Heâs thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like heâs ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.Â
The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and itâs loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.Â
âEvery now and then,â he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. âHeâs so fucking stupid. You taste so good, itâs unbelievable.â
Heâs curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.Â
Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you canât decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. Heâs so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.
âThere you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.â
His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and youâre cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. Itâs abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. Heâs groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.
By the time you look down at him, youâre still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.
âYouâre unreal,â he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.
You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.Â
âIâm letting you be nice to me, remember? So whatâs next?â
With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.Â
âYou got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussyâŠyou wanna fuck me now?â
âIââ he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.
âYou want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?â
âYouâve got a mouth on you,â Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.Â
âIs that a problem?â
The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You havenât done anything to the man, but heâs sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.
âIf youâre letting me have you, you can have it however you want.â
Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you canât help but be turned on at how much heâs giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, youâll never show your face again.
So when the door to your truckâs backseat closes, youâre climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system⊠itâs going to be loud for a very long time.Â
Youâre running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and youâre drooling. Heâs glorious and you donât hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. Heâs cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almostâ
âLet me take you out,â he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.
Huh?
Youâre immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that heâs completely serious.
âOnâŠa date?â A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. âJust the dopamine talking, Iâm sure,â you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadnât expected him to actuallyâŠwant to take you out. You canât think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.
He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and youâre reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.Â
âYouâre the only one here thatâs cum, princess. Iâm being serious.â
âItâll pass,â you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.
Thankfully he doesnât try to interject because you donât have time to talk right nowâyou donât want to. You donât know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings youâve spent with a man in a long time, youâre unsure if he genuinely wants you or if heâs merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.
He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just donât know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so sheâs more giving when you slide her panties off.
Itâll pass.
And thatâs what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.
âTake off your pants,â you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.
âShit,â you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. âHurry up, baby.âÂ
When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.
Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, heâs thickânot enough to be painfulâbut enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. Itâs perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you canât lick without tasting latex. Itâs a shame. Â
He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.
âHop on, princess.â
Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. Itâs a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You donât hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you donât want to give him any ammunition for something you arenât sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.
Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. Heâs got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.
âYou feel so good,â he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and thereâs a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if heâs trying to concentrate.
Youâre giddy with desire. âLet me guess,â you tease, lips brushing against his. âAm I tight?â
âYes,â he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.
âAm I nice and hot?â
âYes, fuck yes, baby.âÂ
Itâs meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.Â
You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.
âLet me take you out,â he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer himâyou canât. Itâs harder now to believe his sincerity because heâs delirious with lust. âAnswer me.â
You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. Youâre not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.
âStop talking,â you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. âStop asking me. Just let me fuck you.â
He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.
Youâre stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.Â
You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.
His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and youâre hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.Â
He doesnât buck up into you and youâre unsure if itâs due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope itâs the latter.Â
âDo you like this?â you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. âYou can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how Iâm making you feel.â
He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.
âYouâre a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?â
You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.
âHe couldnât handle it. Probably why he cheated wasnât it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldnât deliver.âÂ
You donât answer him, but heâs right. Heâs so right. He couldnât stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didnât result in him being dominant, hated when he couldnât even eat pussy without you having to ask.Â
The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like youâre running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.Â
âOh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,â you whisper, stomach burning.
Youâre fluttering around himâpulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock youâve ever had and itâs glorious, youâre in fucking heaven.
The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Tojiâs face. Heâs beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.
Thereâs a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.
The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.
âIâve never had a woman ride me like this,â he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.
âLet me take you out.â He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. âOne chance. One dinner. Iâll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise justââ
âStop it,â you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. Youâre so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he wonât stop fucking talking. Wonât stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so thereâs no space between you to breathe. âStop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.â
Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like itâs the last thing youâll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.
Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before heâs slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.
âThatâs it, Toji,â you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. âBe nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.â
The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. Itâs faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--
âFuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.â
Itâs tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.
You donât get the chance to tell him youâre cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out âfuck!â that youâre sure your uncleâs neighbors will hear a mile down the road. Youâre dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.Â
Heâs laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. Youâre still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driverâs seat so you donât fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything thatâs going on.Â
His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still canât control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxiousâlike he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some moreâlike he really likes you.Â
You know heâs going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.
âYou gonna cum?â you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.
âYes,â he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. âYes, Iâm gonna cum. Fuckââ
Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.Â
âCum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.â
His eyes widen before they roll closed and heâs slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan youâve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. Heâs too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that youâre holding onto his shoulders.Â
The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.
He rumbles your name into your neck and youâre cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.Â
âWe should get back inside before someone finally notices that weâve been gone.â He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. âMy bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.â
Heâs quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesnât argue like you think he would. He doesnât speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.
He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.Â
When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesnât speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesnât leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.Â
âDo you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I donât want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.â
Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesnât fight and makes his way back inside without a word.
You lied.
Your purse is in the front seat of your carâyou threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.Â
Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.Â
It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each otherâs company to really notice your absence anyway, and youâre sure theyâll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that youâre gone.Â
The grip on the wheel doesnât lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.
***
âSo you did fuck him,â your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.Â
Itâs a Saturday night and youâre knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.
You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and youâre ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. Sheâs called you every single day since the 4th and sheâs done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.Â
As you expected, your family didnât really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.
âYes, I fucked him. So what?â
âSoooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a moveââ
âIt was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him andâI shouldnât have done thatâŠI should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.â
Sheâs quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.
âSo youâre just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didnât take his shit. Thatâs not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. Heâs a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but trulyâŠa nice guy. Someone for you.â
James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. Sheâs right. You hate that sheâs right. Itâs why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.
âGirl, fuck you.â
Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and youâre rushing to the door.
Only itâs not your Chinese food at the doorstep, itâs Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes donât convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncleâs well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.Â
âToji,â you breathe in disbelief. âHow did you get my addressâŠâ
Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. âIâm gonna goââ
âYour cousin finally gave it to me.,â he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. âIâve been trying to get it since you fucking left.â
âDamn, thanks?!â she barks at him. âLemme get out of here, Iâm getting another call anyway. Bye!â
Youâre going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if youâre feeling particularly evil.Â
You know sheâs right about Toji, but you canât do this. You shouldnât have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.
You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. Youâre wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a manâs opinion, and you step back to grab the door.
âListenâŠIâm waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you needââ
âYou have time to spare then,â he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.
âHave you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!â
âYou want me to leave? Hmm?â he asks, goading you like you donât know if youâre sure.
Youâre not sure, butââYes, goddammit! I shouldnât have left but I donât do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!â
He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.
âListenââ
Youâre on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. âYou here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?â
That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.
âFuck, will you stopââ
âWanna have a little âsituationshipâ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, youâre jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesnât it?â
A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.
âGirlââ he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.
âGet out,â you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.Â
He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. âWill you just stop it!â
âI saidââ
âOh my fucking godâI like you!âÂ
His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.
âYou donât do this sort of thing?â he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You canât find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.Â
âWhat sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?â Heâs annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you donât miss the step he takes closer to you.
âMe trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because Iâm not from here?â
Heâs closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.
âHelping me win that little card game?â Itâs spades, but youâre too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. âTelling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.âÂ
You donât have a retort. Youâre too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.
âYou arenât mean. You donât tolerate bullshit, you donât fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you thatâs what I like in a womanâŠAnd I like you.â
What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if youâre submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and youâre nervous. Heâs angry with his confession, almost annoyed and youâre beginning to realize that it is an emotion thatâs second nature to him even if itâs not as intense as you think it is.Â
âIs that right?â you canât help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.
He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.Â
âYea, that's fucking right. SoâŠâ he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. âLet me take you out.â
Itâs the same demand that youâve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.Â
âIâm listening,â you jest with a practiced air.
That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that heâs too cocky for his own good, and youâve unfortunately grown to like it.Â
âShiu has tickets for something here calledâŠfootball? Heâs taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.â
You canât help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. âWe donât participate in the game. We watch it. But itâs fun.â
âAll the more reason for you to come with me.â
âIâŠâ
Itâs a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.Â
The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.
âOne date, princess.â
The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and itâs worse because itâs just how he fucking talks. Youâre not a royal, and you donât have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate âprincessâ if itâs coming from his mouth.Â
Just one date. You deserve it. Youâve earned the reward.
You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.Â
âFine. Make sure you bring cash because itâs easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzelâŠand a hot dog.â
He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.Â
âToji?â you call, your voice softerâŠapprehensive.
He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When heâs finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that wonât come outâwords you want to say. But you canât. Not yet. Maybe one day.
For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. âParking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.â
You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because thatâs just who you are. The bitter, meanâ
A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.
When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but itâs not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.
âYes maâam,â he replies finally to your demand.
You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.
When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Tojiâs hands from earlier.Â
You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.
Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!
©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.
#Toji Fushiguro#Toji Fushiguro x Reader#Toji Fushiguro x Black Reader#Toji Fushiguro x black fem reader#Toji x you#Toji Fushiguro x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x black reader#black fem reader#black reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#Maneater#mysteria157#anime x black reader#Toji Fushiguro fanfic#jjk fanfic#Toji Fushiguro smut#Toji Fushiguro fluff#toji zenin#fushiguro toji#jjk toji#Toji fanfic#toji smut#toji x reader#toji jjk#jujutsu toji#soft Toji#jjk fic#jjk au
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pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader
summary: you and your across the door neighbor have a complicated relationship with each other. things only seem to grow more murky after you invite him to a work party to embarrass your ex.
warnings: nsfw mdni 18+, friends with benefits, mentions of oral sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up guys), angry sex at the beginning, very sweet and tender at the end, pre-mutation deadpool cause lowkey i need to see ryan reynold's face in my mind lol, fake dating idk its confusing, wade's a bit of a rebound for a little bit, ever so slight dirty talk, wade using stupid little cringey pet names, pansexual deadpool moments because i love my canon king, you can see my wade wilson headcanons LOUD AND CLEARRRR here rip
word count: 6.8k (this is my longest fic to date are you guys happy)
notes: heyyyyyy so funny story i was meant to post this in like july/august when deadpool and wolverine came out to jump on the trend buttttt i got really burnt out as soon as i got to the smut part of this and then dropped it....BUT I FOUND THIS AGAIN AND FINISHED IT SO WE'RE ALL GOOD this is gonna get zero interaction cause the trend is over but ykw idc i really like what i did here so i hope you enjoy lol. i also did not really proofread this i was too excited to post it lol
dividers by: @cafekitsune
Apartment searching was probably the worst part of the breakup. Which was saying a lot considering how hard you took his news. Raoul and you had been together for about 6 and a half years, and had even gone as far as to move in with each other. It seemed like a good trade off, considering how much the two of you would be saving on rent. And with his parents being filthy rich and owning about half the apartment buildings in Manhattan, the two of you picked a particularly nice one.
Life seemed to be sailing by on calm waters. You had finally moved out of your shitty apartment with your shitty roommate and in with the love of your life, Raoul's stiff parents seemed to finally be warming up to you. To top it all off, you had finally scored a promotion at work. Coming from a less than steady foundation as a child, moving up in your work was something you prided yourself on greatly. It didn't pay as much as Raoul's did, but you loved what you did, and were damn good at it. That was enough.
It never was for him though. Not for his reputation. Or better yet, his parents'. Which is exactly what caused the breakup. "You know how my mother is, she's never going to be happy as long as I'm dating someone with your background." The words still rang in your ears. Your background. The words tasted like rotten fish. Just as you thought he was getting ready to pop the question to you also. He had the decency to let you stay in the apartment until you found your own, but you could tell pity was the fuel behind that fire.
You wanted a place in the city, close to work, but that proved incredibly difficult. After what felt like years of looking at "fixer-uppers" and failed bargain attempts, you finally found one. Was it nice? No. It was a tiny studio, with the only room separate from the main area being a minuscule bathroom. The view was shit, the lights flickered like a disco, and it was a mission to get hot water. But it was a three minute walk from your work building and was the cheapest room you had found so far, so you decided to settle.
You kept to yourself the first week after you moved in, only really leaving to go to work and do your laundry. Your friends had begged you to go out and explore the city with them, but you couldn't seem to drag yourself out of bed. You had been so busy apartment shopping in the past few months that you forgot to do something: Mourn your relationship. The minute you placed down the last bowl in the cabinet, the waves of grief crashed on top of you instantaneously.
Would it have worked out if you came from money? You try not to think about how the answer is most likely yes.
One late night while you're wrapped up and crying in your bedsheets, you hear the first knock on your door since you've moved in. You instinctually bury yourself further in the covers, praying the knocking will stop and whoever's at the door will get bored and go away.
It doesn't.
With a groan, you mosey out of bed, throw on a pair of pants, and answer the door. Rubbing your eyes, you find yourself looking at your neighbor. You had seen him a few times in the hallway when you would take down your dirty laundry, but you didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed to be in and out of the building, which was probably why you didn't even know his name. He was pretty tall, had light brown hair that was just long enough to not be considered a buzzcut, and a little scar slashing across his right eyebrow.
"Listen, I know this is weird and I know we haven't even met properly yet, but my microwave short circuited and I've been looking forward to chowing down on this burrito all day and I think if I don't get to eat it, I'll genuinely go crazy and destroy this entire apartment building."
You had to be delirious or something, there was no way he was jumping out of the gate with his first introduction to you like this. But low and behold, he lifted up the tin foil wrapped burrito next to your face as evidence for his dilemma. "With the power of whatever sick fuck looking down on us from up there, can I PLEASEEEEEE use your microwave?" he downright begged.
You took about 15 seconds to just stare at him and comprehend what just happened. "And you thought I was the best person to ask for this? Not any of the other ten people who live on this floor?" you asked bluntly. He scoffed at you.
"Well, for your information missy, it's a pretty well known fact that most people are away in dreamville at you know, 2:30 in the morning. And I've had a habit of noticing you like to have your tv blaring around this time of night, while not many other people on this floor do. So, using my beautiful detective skills, I came to the conclusion that you're the only other person up right now. And guess what! I was right!" This guy was weird.
You groaned and rubbed your face. "And you know, how else was I going to find an excuse to finally introduce myself to the hot girl who just moved across the hall to me." You glared at his cheesy comment, while he flashed a fake smile and waved the burrito next to his face.
You sighed, knowing you'd probably regret this. "In and out," you said, moving out of the doorframe and letting him inside. "Oh my god if you had a dick I would suck it so good right now," he exclaimed as he rushed inside like a little school boy, making his way right to the microwave and popping in the burrito. You took a second to comprehend his comment. "Yeah yeah whatever," is what you decided to reply with, not having the energy to argue with the man.
You slopped down on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island, and substitution for a table, and let your head rest on the table while you waited for the man to leave. He leaned against the countertop while he waited for his burrito. You could feel the vibrations of his fingers tapping against the counter. "What do you want," you groaned. "How long ago?" he asked, shortly. "What?" "How long ago did they dump you?" Your head shot up off the counter. "Excuse me?" He smirked. Almost like his goal was to piss you off. "You had a partner, probably guy, definitely long term, he was rich, you weren't, parents got in the way, and you got kicked to the curb."
Clocked you from a mile away.
The sounds of the beeping microwave echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.
"Get your food and get out." "Someone's not very hospitable," he snarked. You got off the chair, walked up to the man, and slapped him across the cheek. "You come banging on my door at 2 in the morning, don't even have the decency to introduce yourself, you use up my appliances, and then you flat out insult me?!?! Kicking you out is probably the nicest thing I could do right now!" you shouted. He turned his head back to face you, staring dead into your eyes. You weren't sure if you were frightened, infuriated, or turned on by his look.
"Let me show you a better time," he groveled into your ear. Jesus, why couldn't it be daylight outside.
In the day, you have control over yourself. The sun gives you a sense of clarity, almost like the light shines in on your brain and gives you the ability to make good decisions. During the night hours, you still know good from bad. It's just much harder for you to stop yourself from going the wrong way.
He must have heard the way your breath hitched, because you could hear the slight snicker he let out shortly after. He could see you were still debating it though. "Listen. This is up to you. But just so I can plead my case, you're one of the most beautiful people I've seen in my whole life, and I work around a lot of hotties, so thats saying something." "You're losing me, tiger," you cut him off. He stutters and regains his footing. "I'd hate to see someone as beautiful as you get thrown off their game cause of some jerk who didn't know what he had until he lost it. I've seen it too many times and I'd hate to see it happen to you too."
You lean in a little, ears perking up. "I personally think, I can give you a better time than he ever could. So, we're gonna do this. If I'm better than he was, you gotta promise me that you'll get back out there. Capeesh?" You closed your eyes and rubbed your bridge. He leans into your ear. "And if you like it enough, who knows, I'd be down to make this into a thi-." "Just let me think!" you push him off you. He backs up, grabs his burrito from out of the microwave, and starts munching.
This is stupid. This is so stupid. It had only been three months since you and Raoul finished, but you were so ready to get into bed with this basically stranger. You honestly just wanted him to stop bugging you. But all things considered, at least he was an attractive rebound. And he seemed to know the situation and what this meant. You just needed a distraction at this point. From everything, and especially Raoul. This was sure to do that. Besides, what did you have to lose? Definitely not your dignity.
You looked over to see him eating his burrito. God you were so pathetic, this was actually turning him on. The way his mouth was gently moving around it. You were getting wet just thinking about the way it would maneuver around your folds. Fuck. This was really your decision wasn't it. Made by the way a man eats his burrito. Pathetic.
"Fine." He looked up from his meal. "Just this once though," you added. "Yeah whatever, we'll see how you feel when we're done," he teased. You grabbed his arm and led him to your bed on the other side of the apartment. You slowly stripped off your pants and underwear, agreeing with him that you could keep your shirt on. The next hour or so was full of pure adrenaline and ecstasy. He knew how to press every single one of your buttons as his mouth worked wonders on your pussy. You had the unfortunate feeling that you would be seeing him again after this.
Once he finished another round on your clit, he wiped his mouth and stuck his hand out to you from in between your legs. "Wade Wilson. Apartment D05." You couldn't help but giggle at the silly gesture. You then stated your name and apartment number and shook Wade's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Wilson." "Oh please, Mr. Wilson was my father, call me Wade. And the pleasure is all mine of course." He flashed a big smile when you giggled at his joke and dove right back into your pussy. The two of you kept going until the sun came up.
The two of you made an agreement after that night. If either one of you was sexually frustrated, lonely, or just plain horny, you two would go down on each other. Friends with benefits or something like that. Cause the two of you did talk to each other outside of sex too. Wade was a funny guy. He had his sweet moments too, despite being pretty brash. But man was he annoying.
He had a problem with never knowing when to shut up. This was a pattern during sex also. As more and more sessions went on, you noticed him becoming more and more vocal. Taking breaks to talk to your pussy while he would eat you out, striking up a conversation with you while you had a mouth full of dick. "Wade, I swear to God, if you want me to actually finish you off, you better shut the fuck up," you found yourself saying most nights, wiping his precum off your mouth. "Oh trust me sweetheart, women have left me hanging in worse situations," he would tease back.
Some nights you found yourself finishing off angrier than when you started. The two of you argued a lot. Mostly over dumb shit. Wade had a knack for pissing you off. Whether it was stealing things from your apartment, being too loud with the other people he would bring to his apartment, or just being plain forgetful with plans. Almost every outing to a club would end up with the two of you drunkly screaming at each other. But man, the way he would work on your swollen pussy with his tongue afterwards. You found yourself easily forgiving him move of the time. His argument was strong after all.
There was a set list of rules the two of you followed though. For boundaries sake. "We keep it to your apartment," he added as you wrote down details on a notepad. "Ugh, why mine?" you whined. "Cause mine's too dirty and I know your clean freak ass would have a heart attack upon seeing it." True, the way he talked about his apartment made it seem like a breeding ground for a STD. "And let me guess, you're too lazy to clean it up?" you jab back. "Hit the nail right on the head, darling!" he smiled sarcastically, taking a light swipe at your chin.
"Whatever, my turn. I don't want any you know...actual sex stuff." Wade raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" You shrugged your shoulders, a little embarrassed. "I don't know, just like...I'd rather stick to the oral stuff I guess." Wade couldn't help but snicker. "What, you scared my dick's too big to fit in it or something?" "No, asshole!" you shouted, bopping the top of his head with the notepad. "It just feels...too personal I guess," you said, beet red.
What Wade didn't know was that going that far was just too intimate for you right now. You already felt guilty enough getting into this "relationship" with this man you barely know after just getting out of an almost seven year relationship. You didn't want Wade to feel like some kind of rebound. Even if he kinda was. You weren't sure if he even cared though. For all you know, he was just happy to get some pussy.
"Whatever, your loss cupcake," Wade shook off. "Fine then, I get my own special condition." "Hit me," you said, sitting up. "No kissing." "What?!" you shouted. "That's so stupid, thats no where near the same level as mine! Mine is at least a little understandable!" "Hey, you have your reasons, I have mine," Wade argued. "Fine....You'll still kiss up on my pussy though, won't you Wade?" you asked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in closer to you. "Well what else is it there for, certainly not for sticking my dick in," he teased. You gave his already erect dick a smack and dragged him down into you bed, taking off his pants for your next session.
The next couple of months looked exactly like this, with a few trauma dumps in between of course. This was comfortable. You were still getting action, but nothing too much or serious. And Wade was a good guy for you. Or for this at least. Sometimes you would sit and wonder if the two of you could, you know, become more than this. An actual couple. Wade was your best friend. Yeah, he was a little shit, but he had been there for you more than anyone else before. He understood where you came from, because he came from the same roots. Him being really hot helped too you know.
But you could never be sure if he felt the same way. You weren't sure if he was the type for an actual relationship. Yeah, your crush on him seemed to grow bigger with each passing day, but this was easier for the both of you. Not ideal. But again. Comfortable.
Things started to change really fast though when a certain instagram story crossed your feed. "That bitch!" Wade heard you shout while out at Weasel's bar. "What now, someone twist up your panties?" Wade sarcastically added. You flip your phone over him show to one of your work friends with her new boyfriend.
A fourth month anniversary hard launch. "No way, is that him?" He asked, picking up the clues quickly. You nodded silently. You had failed to mention your past relationships to your friend Clarissa, so she must have thought he was some stranger or something. You had no idea how they met and started dating, but Raoul had seemed to come back into your life as soon as he left it. And you knew for a fact you'd be seeing him soon.
"I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about this stupid party," you repeated to Wade as you paced your apartment floor, topless. Wade sat back on your bed, sipping on a beer bottle, his pants off. "He's definitely gonna be there, it's a Holiday party for God's sake! Everyone always goes to those stupid parties! And of course everyone goes with their partners so of course Clarissa is gonna bring him!" "And why do you have to go?" Wade asked calmly. You stopped pacing. "Because Wade my promotion basically lies in the hands of me making a good impression, which means going to every work function they've got. Valentine's Day dance, Thanksgiving dinner, and especially the Winter Gala," you recited.
You flopped on top of the bed in anger, letting out fake, annoyed sobs. Wade groaned, set his beer bottle on the nightstand, and lifted your face up with his two cupped hands. "If I go with you will that shut you up?" You stopped your fake tantrum and sat up. "Um, are you being serious with me right now?" He nodded. "Is that not asking too much? I mean like...I don't know if it's typical for someone to go to a work party with their friend with benefits," you brought up.
Wade cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have to tell anyone that. As far as your employers, and especially Raoul, know...we're dating." You sat to yourself and thought for a minute. It'd be nice to have someone accompany you to the torturous party. And plus, making Raoul jealous would be a bonus. "That wouldn't be too much? Like what about the whole no kissing thing, isn't it weird for a couple to not kiss?" you asked. "Hey, couples don't kiss all the time! And plus, we can still hold hands and stuff. Just the bare minimum. But I think it could work." He watched you as the smile grew more and more onto your face. You leaped into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you Wade! You don't know what this means!"
Wade took a second, but he tightly wrapped his arms around your back and tightened the hug. "Anything for my favorite girl," he said quietly next to your ear. Neither of you let go for a while, taking each other in. For two people who had sex with each other about three times a week, this was the most intimate you had been. You could tell how serious it was by how quiet Wade was.
His breath was calm and steady, matching up almost perfectly to yours. Your head sat perfectly on the nook where his neck met his shoulders. But as soon as you begun to tighten your grip on him, he cleared his throat and let go. "I think I'm owed a good dick sucking for my good deeds," he awkwardly brought up. It took you a second to regain what was going on, after being so thrown off by Wade's sudden display of intimacy. "Oh...Oh! Oh you bet your ass," you recovered. Wade rubbed his hands together, almost like a corny cartoon villain as you lowered yourself down to his thick shaft.
You furiously tapped your fingers on your phone as you waited for a "ready to go" response from Wade. You added the final touches to your outfit. You spent a good chunk of your savings on your outfit for tonight, dead set on your revenge Ă la jealousy. The red velvet dressed you purchased hugged perfectly onto each of your curves and the string of thick pearls was cherry on top. You finally got the okay text from Wade, so you picked up your small clutched and jumped out of your apartment, knocking on Wade's door.
It was a sight you had never seen before. Wade W. Wilson was wearing a suit. A warm feeling flooded into your heart, seeing him make such an effort for the occasion. The tight fitted pants he was wearing brought a different type of warmth into your body. You noticed he was staring at you in a similar way, scanning the way the dress sculpted your frame. But the look on his face wasn't the normal lust filled eyes you had seen so many times before. It was different. Before you could decipher what exactly it was, Wade cut in. "How much did that dress cost?" You paused. "...You don't wanna know."
The taxi ride there was filled with repetitions of your master plan. Wade didn't seem to be paying much attention. It didn't matter though, as long as your head was in the game, this was sure to work.
You stepped out of the taxi and took in the view of the venue in front of you. You drew in a deep breath and found Wade standing next to you. "You ready party princess?" he asked, holding his arm out to wrap yours around. You smiled up at him and lock yours in. "Ready as I'll ever be playboy."
Most of the party was filled with shallow conversations with employers, bad music, and drinking. Lots of drinking. And then you saw him. You almost sprayed your cocktail out of your mouth at the sight. Your first instinct was to start smacking Wade's shoulder. "Jesus christ woman what is it?!?!" Wade shouted. You made a pointing gesture with your eyes towards Raoul. Wade follows your eyes. "Damn, I can see what kept you locked in for so long." "It sounds like you're begging for a trip to the hospital right now," you threatened. "Sorry, he just has a beautiful ass," Wade continued to tease. "Shame he's only into broke ass girls. Like you." "Can you stop being an asshole for once and focus!"
Wade rolled his eyes, put down his drink and pulled you out onto the dance floor. "What are you doing?" you confusedly whispered. "Going along with the plan," he said, not making eye contact with you. He put one of his hands on your hip and the other locked with yours. It surprised you how good of a dancer he turned out to be. He was light on his feet, swaying along to the rhythm of the music.
You naturally fell into his movements. You took moments of your dance with Wade to look over in Raoul's direction. He seemed fairly preoccupied with Clarissa, understandably. Your frustration laid clear on your face. Wade must have noticed, because next thing you know, he's twirling you and sends you into a dip. His face lit up at the sight of your sudden smile.
You look to your right and see exactly what you wanted. Raoul staring dead set on you on the dance floor. In an ditzy stupor you turn your face back to Wade. "I need you to kiss me." "What?" "Wade please just this once I swear, he's looking at us right now." He took a second to think, rolled his eyes, and placed a peck on your lips.
It didn't feel how you expected it to. He was rough, and mean with it. He brought you back up from the dip, roughly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the table with your drinks. You took a second to regain your footing. Wade downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He looked shaken, upset even. "Are you okay?" you asked. Before he had the chance to respond, you noticed his eyes dart behind you. With record timing, you felt a tap on your shoulder and spin around.
Oh my god.
"I had a feeling that was you out on the dance floor," he said, in that smug tone he always used to use. You sighed to yourself. "Hi Raoul, it's been a minute." Catching you off guard, he pulls you in to a one armed hug, and lets go before you're able to reciprocate it. "Wait you know each other?" Clarissa asked, locked in on his arm.
Raoul starts first. "Um, yeah we were-" "We hung out at frat parties back in college," you cut in. It technically wasn't a lie. You just would rather spare yourself the embarrassment from her. Raoul didn't correct you, just a simple nod. "Aw, that's so cute!" Clarissa said. "Raoul's got so many friends I can hardly keep up at this point." Clarissa's high pitched giggle rang through your ears and you tried to keep a smile plastered on your face. "Oh I'm sure," you quietly added, getting a stink eye from Raoul in the meantime. God, you wish you didn't finish your drink earlier.
Raoul's eyes moved behind you. "I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get your name," he gestured to Wade. "Oh, that's Wade, he's my-" "Partner," he cut you off, moving up next to you and taking your hand. You squeezed it tightly, as a silent thank you. "Oh my god, congratulations!" Clarissa said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." "Yeah, we decided to wait until six months to go around posting about it and stuff," you added. "We would've waited longer, but I was too excited to keep it to myself any longer, isn't that right my love," Clarissa said, gently patting Raoul's jawline. "That's right my darling."
Just before taking Clarissa for a long, wet, uncomfortable kiss, you could feel a split second moment of eye contact between you and Raoul. Chills overtook your body. He was so...
Cold.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself for a moment. It was great seeing you Clarissa," you quickly spat out before rushing away from the scene. You could hear who you hoped was Wade's footsteps leading close behind you. He called out your name for attention while you ran down the stairs, into the lobby, and out the door. "What the fuck was that? You just don't talk to me?" Wade questioned as you looked out onto the sidewalk for a taxi. "Not now Wade," you pushed him off. You could barely focus. Your mind was running a mile a minute, your heart pounding like a freight train. Who knew all it took to send you back months of healing was one look.
"This was a bad idea," you said to yourself. "Anyone could've told you that," you heard Wade say under his breath. Not in control of your actions, your hand quickly reacted, whipping itself across his cheek. It left a bright red mark on his face as Wade quickly went to hold it. "That is the last fucking thing I need right now, Wilson."
You sound like your father. You sound like his too.
The two of you stood on the sidewalk in the falling snow for a good five minutes of silence while waiting. A "Sorry," managed to come out of your mouth. Both of you were mad. Saying and doing things you didn't mean. Both hurting in your own ways. You hated the way Raoul could control your emotions. Always could. Like you were in the palm of his hand. Seeing yourself in that position again brought a wave of anger like nothing else.
"Let's just wait for the taxi," Wade said. You didn't look back to see his face, but you could feel his energy radiating in the snow. You fucked up. Big time. You were too angry to fix it right now though. This was a problem to solve in the morning. All you wanted right now was to curl up in your bed and sob for the next five hours.
Wade finally waved down a taxi for the two of you, opened the door to let you in first, and crawled in behind you. The tension in the car was so thick you were sure the driver could feel it too. It felt like you were in that car for hours until the two of you got out. As the car drove away and Wade looked for his keys to open the lobby door, all your thoughts began to flood out. "I can't believe he would wave her around in front of me like that!" You could feel the eye roll Wade was having right now, but didn't care enough to stop. He held the door open for you, as you continued talking into the elevator up. "And what was that kiss about?! Talk about show off. And gross also, their saliva almost flew into my eye." Wade stayed silent throughout your whole rant.
Still talking out the elevator and down the hallway. You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even realize you were following Wade up to his door as he unlocked it. "And not to be a bitch, but how can Clarissa grow to stand him? Their personalities do not fit at all." Wade opened the door, and instinctively moved out of the way as he found you pushing yourself into his apartment as you continued talking.
He sighed to himself, closed and locked the door, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and stood by the door as you talked. "You know what? He went there to hurt me. He had to know Clarissa and I worked together, so he had to know I would be at that party! Why else would he go?!" Wade threw his head back, groaned, and began to walk up to you, shielded from your attention by the tangent you were on. "You know what, next work function he goes to, him gonna walk right up to him and tell him how much of an asshole he really is-."
The very last syllable of your sentence was picked up into Wade's mouth as his lips laced their way into yours.
You stood there wide eyed as Wade's lips rested on your mouth. He let go and opened his mouth for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to yours. "You talk too much. And you know it's bad when I'm the one saying that." You didn't have the room in your brain to respond. The only thing you could focus on was getting his mouth back onto yours. You grabbed the back of his head and smushed his face into yours, his own hands wrapping around your waist and hugging you into him.
This kiss was much different from your first one. This one was also rough, but surprisingly tender, like Wade had been waiting for this moment for ever. His lips maneuvered around your mouth the same way they did to your pussy, with a certain care and art. You were the first one to let your tongue slip, making its way into Wade's mouth. He treated it lightly, and with a gentle nature.
While you were distracted by the kiss, Wade hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and walked you to his bed. He let go of your mouth to dramatically plop you down on the mattress. "Before anything happens, I have got to get you out of that dress," Wade said, lowly and seductively. It was almost like magic, the way Wade's words could soak your underwear the minute they enter the air.
You unzipped your dress with haste, and tightly squeezed it off your body, tossing it to Wade's floor like it wasn't the most expensive piece of clothing you owned. To match you, Wade also stripped off his clothes, leaving both of you completely naked, except for undergarments, on his bed. Wade lowered himself on top of you, lacing his lips back into yours. Your hands explored his back, one of them taking a particular liking to one of his asscheeks, gripping and fondling it. Wade let out sounds of pleasure into your mouth as you played with him.
After a solid time of just making out, you separated your mouth from his. "What's wrong," Wade asked, a kind concern in his voice. You took a minute to gather your thoughts as you stared at Wade's cock, throbbing and bulging through his underwear. "Wade, I want you inside me."
Wade's breath hitched and you could see his cheeks grow red at your comment. "Are you sure?" It was crazy how much of his confidence and swagger he could lose because of your words. A symptom of something deeper inside his heart. You nodded gently. "I've never been so sure about anything until right fucking now," you whispered to him. Wade couldn't help but smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He laced his lips back into yours as his hands moved up your back and unclipped your bra like second nature. You used your hands to help him take off his boxers. The way his shaft sprung out made you gasp in delight.
Wade peppered kisses over your jaw, neck, and chest as he made his way down your body with his mouth. He took special time and care with your tits as he suckled on your nipple with that special tongue of his.
Wade was very dead set on his "no kissing" rule in the past, saving it only for when he would eat you out. Nothing above your hips or below your inner thigh. So, here and now, with his gentle kisses being pressed into your stomach, you couldn't help but giggle happily, your fingers scratching lovingly at the nape of his neck. You were so happy. Happier than when you two would mindlessly hook up. Happier than when you were with Raoul. Happier than when the stars would shine down on you from above. If you could pause time, you would stay in this moment forever. Tender. Pure. Happy,
The kisses made their way down your stomach, traced out your pelvic bone, and finally made it to the border of your panties. Wade's doe brown eyes looked up and made dead eye contact with you as his teeth latched onto your underwear lace. Your pussy throbbed with delight as you watched him pull down your underwear with his mouth expertly. He was most definitely not a novice at this. Once your underwear was finally off, Wade sat up on his knees, looking over your temple of a body.
In the time you two spent together, sure you did a lot of stuff together, but there were heavy boundaries in place. One being, neither of you had seen the other fully naked before. At least one piece of undergarment or clothing was kept on at all times, be it a shirt, boxer short, or skirt. Both of you wanted to get a certain level of privacy. But now, here you both were. Completely exposed for the other to soak in.
"You're so beautiful." His face was so full of admiration. No flirty tone. No pet name to level the meaning. He was absolutely serious. "You're so beautiful," you echo back to him, with the same amount of seriousness. Before he was going to do anything else, he lowered his entire body weight down onto you, skin to skin, and wrapped every inch of himself around you.. "What're you doing Wade?" you asked, gently scratching his bare back with your nails, feeling his skin rise and fall at your touch. "Cherishing you." You had no choice but to kiss him after that comment, a gentle peck from you landing on his lips. "I'm ready," you urged. Wade nodded. "I got you, princess."
Wade used his saliva to wet up your entrance, though not much was needed to help that situation. He used the rest of it to lather up his cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave you a kiss deep into your cheek, and pushed it inside.
Both of you moaned in a loud ecstasy as his thick shaft made its way into your leaking, tight cunt. Then, Wade began thrusting himself into you, as you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. His hands squeezed and manhandled both your tits as his hips rocked waves into you. It was exactly like dancing with him before. He had a certain rhythm to him, like he was a professional. It sounded cheesy as you thought it in your head, but it was true.
"Your pussy's so good for me," he whispered into your ear. "Like it was made for me or something." Your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go faster and harder with his thrusts. His dick filled up every crevice of your pussy, his tip pushing just right into your g-spot. One of his hand moves away from your tit and down to grope your asscheek. Your moans grow louder and your grip on his shoulder tightens. "You like it when I manhandle you, huh princess?" he teases. His mouth attaches itself to your neck as he sucks dark bruises into it. "Go harder Wade," you gasp. "As you wish," he cheekily remarks.
You can feel your body growing hotter as his dick throbs inside your tight cunt. The bed rocks and shakes with your movements. You wonder for a split second if any of your neighbors can hear you. The thought loses its momentum when you remember how much worse you've heard come out of this apartment room.
After a solid bit of going at it, you can feel your climax start to hit. Your breath goes shaky, your grip on him gets tighter, and your moans and gasps become more scattered and desperate. "I know sweetheart, I know, don't worry," Wade lowly whispers into your ear, giving your lobe a quick nibble after he's done. You begin to rock your hips as well, clashing into his, desperate to chase the high coming rushing towards you.
The high is magnificent, better than you had ever experienced with him. Your legs and body shake as your body comes around his dick, the orgasm ripping its way through your vocal cords. Wade slips his shaft out of you once your moans stop and finishes on his own on the edge of the bed.
You stay sitting in bed silent for some time, soaking in the full experience. Wade turns back to you and leans down to your pussy, soaking and slurping up your juices. Your body shivers under his gentle tongue. He does a reverse of before, kissing his way up your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and finding its home on your lips. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses you, wiggling his way with you under the covers of his bed.
"So...how do you feel?" He asked, kissing your cheek. "Fucking great," you giggled. "Well duh, that was the obvious answer," he snarked, pressing quick kissing into every inch of your face, getting sweet laughs out of you. "You've suddenly turned into quite the kisser." "I think I was just waiting for the right moment," he said gently, scanning your face and finding a comfortable sitting in your eyes. "I'm glad you finally found it," you whispered to him. He smiled drowsily. "Me too." Wade nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses there. You closed your eyes as you took in his touch. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, making a quick note to yourself to remember this moment forever. Cherishing Wade while you did so.
#wade wilson#deadpool#xmen#deadpool x reader#wade wilson x reader#xmen x reader#marvel x reader#marvel fanfic#xmen fanfic#deadpool fanfiction#deadpool smut#smut#x reader#fanfic
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champions love - six
liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, bsf1, bsf2, and many othersÂ
y/n.jpg nice to be back home for the weekend
tagged: bsf1, bsf2
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logansargeant happy fourth y/n đđ€Ł
‷y/n.jpg Logan! Pull up man
‷logansargeant am I being invited to the cookout?
‷y/n.jpg I- đđ€Łsure Logan, just text meÂ
bsf1 we look so hot omg đđ„”
‷y/n.jpg we do đ€
‷bsf2 was that even a question? đ€đ€
lilymhe đi miss you wifey Â
‷y/n.jpg i miss you too! Donât worry Iâll be back next week đ«¶đŸ
‷alexalbon um? Wifey? đ
‷y/n.jpg call me Mr. Steal your bitch đ
maxverstappen1 will you bring me back some food?Â
‷y/n.jpg so needy đđ yeah Iâll bring you a plate but you do know you could just come?Â
‷maxverstappen1 oh- you so rightÂ
username5 happy Fourth of July Y/n!Â
username9 omg will we potentially get pictures of Logan finally being around people who care about him?Â
‷username12 đmoot what you being messy for?Â
username7 stop this friend group is so hot and for what?Â
liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, f1wags, and many others
y/n.jpg no one told me I would be dealing with two unhinged blondes đđfree meÂ
tagged: bsf1, bsf2, logansargeantÂ
view all commentsÂ
bsf2 we are not unhingedÂ
‷logansargeant agreed đ
‷bsf1 yes you two areÂ
‷y/n.jpg you both decided it would be a good idea to climb into a baby swing and got stuck đđ
‷logansargeant that did not happen??Â
‷y/n.jpg tell that to the fire station that cut you out đ
username4 omg đ€Łhe actually pulled upÂ
maxverstappen1 help is on the way dear!!Â
‷y/n.jpg did you just đquote a meme to me đ€
‷logansargeant oh good god đplz keep this pg 13 thereâs kids on hereÂ
‷y/n.jpg girlâŠfuck them kids đ€and fuck you too đđŸ
username7 and whereâs max? Like how is some guy who can't even drive around my girl alone?
‷username88 ooo yeah it's giving insecure, good luck to any person you date
username76 are we just going to ignore that Logan and Ashley got stuck in a baby swing đ
‷username103 and the fire department had to cut them out đ
‷logansargeant yes
‷bsf2 yes we are
username9 see if I was max i wouldnât let some guy be all cozy with my girl like thatÂ
‷username5 friend what are you talking about? What cozying you see bc i see logan getting cozy with Ashley if thatâs what you meanÂ
username2 so um, anyone else getting chemistry from Logan and her best friend??
‷username10 oh my god yes, thank you, I thought I was the only one đ
‷username23 stop đ”i hope not, they lowkey look like siblingsÂ
‷username55 STOP WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT LMAO??
53,351 likesÂ
y/n.jpg Proud to have introduced the boys to the y/n version of 7/4 đ«Ąhappy 7/4 to america đ
view all commentsÂ
username7 NOT AMERICAN BUT HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!Â
username9 not the max picture cuz ppl was talking shit on the last photo đ
‷username2 logan looks like heâs either third wheeling or being babysat đđ
username10 HAPPY 7/4
username4 HAPPY 7/4
username33 HAPPY 7/4
username69 HAPPY 7/4
username74 HAPPY 7/4
username99 RAWWWW đŠ
HAPPY INDEPENDENCE TO THE BEST COUNTRYÂ
‷username98 they gon get you girl but realđ
bsf1 AHHH WE LOOK SO GOOD IN THE LAST PHOTO, W AURAAAAAA
bsf2 WHERE ARE YOU?? WEâRE TRYING TO TAKE A TRIO PIC WITH THE FIREWORKS??Â
‷bsf1 OH MY GOD TURN AROUND!!!Â
‷username77 WHATâS GOING ON?? WHAT ARE WE MISSING??Â
‷username61 SHOW IT TO US PLEASE!! SHOW IT TO US RACHEL!Â
caption: look at these lovebirds over here đ
‷bsf1 sheâs gonna kill you once she sees thisÂ
‷bsf2 she was the one who kissed him đand she canât even lie and say she was possibly drunk this timeÂ
‷bsf2 miss âI donât date driversâÂ
commentsÂ
F1lover stop â maybe sheâs just busy and will fly in the day of the race
loveuy/n she looks good tho đwhat was she even doing??
lo3vmax maybe she has practice?Â
‷mrssainz yeah but max hasnât said anything about her not coming yetÂ
y/nhater I donât know maybe she finally realized their little pr relationship isnât working anymoreÂ
winter<3 she looks really hungover, maybe she was waiting before flying so she wouldnât have to deal with that
â DUH DUH DUH!!! We have names for our best friends now! đ(I did not mean for that to happen lol)Â
â If you want, we can vote on the other best friendâs name! Send in a request for names and we can poll!!Â
Anyways back to normal programingÂ
â Yes the cookout is a reference to a black cookout but you can take that as a normal bbqÂ
â Logan x Ashley? đweâll seeÂ
â Logan is officially a part of the gang yay!! Â
â Yes, Y/N did in fact block Max after the kiss (she left immediately and screamed in her pillow for at least 30 minutes)Â
â Is Y/n going to Silverstone?? I guess weâll never knowâŠ..jk youâll know in the next chapter mwah đ
Authorâs note!Â
I finished this up faster than I thought I would đI originally planned to wait till July 4th to actually post this but then I was likeâŠnahhhh next chapter will have the race, max and y/n talking (more denial yay! đ) I now get why writers love the good old miscommunication, itâs so much fun to write đÂ
taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago @theblueblub
àŒâ§âË Â CHAMPIONS LOVE àŒâ§âË
‷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Maxâs manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention â a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? WellâŠ
#f1 smau#champions love âĄ#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen smau#max verstappen x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula one x black reader
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The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader
You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?
content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and youâre both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! đ you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!!Â
The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.
It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!
The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, youâd baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, âItâs good, I suppose,â when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.
'I needed this,â you think as you look around at your new friends. Youâve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time youâve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if youâd known each other your whole lives. Right now, theyâre dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdyâs busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.
Itâs a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.
A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, itâs an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. Heâs holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. Itâs an odd expression - you arenât used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.
âHey, Wally!â you call.
Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.
âHello,â says Wally, in his simple way. âIâm happy to see you.â
Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, itâs like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.
As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. Heâs a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wallyâs neckerchief is coming loose, and though heâs long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.
âSame to you!â you say. âArenât you hungry? All the foodâs down with the others.â
That unusually pensive look on Wallyâs face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. âI canât.â
âWhy not?â You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. âYouâve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?â
Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. âThatâs very nice of youâŠbut this doesnât work for me. You should keep it.â
When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.
You donât know when this⊠thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights youâve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. Thereâs a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.
But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.
âIf youâre sure.â You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. âThe offerâs still there.â
ïżœïżœItâs tempting,â says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. âIâd like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isnât worth the risk. I trust him to know.â
You have no idea what heâs talking about, but the look on Wallyâs face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you donât feel itâs polite to pry. Wallyâs always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wallyâs inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.
Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.
It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesnât know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, âDo you want me to look away?â
Wallyâs fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. Youâve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.
âActually,â says Wally, now looking at you properly, âIâd like to try something.â
He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and youâre suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.
It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.
Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise itâs Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.
You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wallyâs face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. Youâve only known Wally a week, and yet youâre utterly charmed by everything he does.
A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: itâs Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.
âYou like hiiiiim, â she teased, her voice all sing-song.
âWhat?!â
You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. âNo! I donât know where you got an idea like that-â
âItâs okay, sweetie. You donât need to pretend.â
Your face felt like it was on fire. Youâd always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrongâŠeven a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.
So, you give in. âHow did you know?â
Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.
âI know a lot about flowers,â she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. âWhat kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.
âWhen you arrived, you lookedâŠwilted. Like youâd been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didnât want to ask why. I think everyone else could, tooâŠand we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.â
âYouâve all been so lovely to me,â you said, by way of thanks.
Julie nodded. âSure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And thatâs okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.â
You swallowed. âYou see a lot, for a gardener.â
Julie smiled. âWhen you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, youâll have a flower who has everything in the worldâŠbut theyâre still curling up, and shying away from the light.â
She pressed the daisy into your palm.
âWally brings the colour back to your petals,â said Julie. âDo yourself a favour. Donât hide from your sun.â
Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.
âClose your eyes,â says Wally gently.
For anyone else, you wouldâve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.
Slowly, you feel Wallyâs hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.
âI have a question,â says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.
âYes?â
âWhy do you eat?â
âUhâŠâ What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, youâre thrown entirely for a loop. â...So I donât die, I guess?â
âHa ha ha ha!â Wallyâs unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. âYouâre so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?â
This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wallyâs voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when heâs setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times youâd seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.
With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.
âIâŠI donât think Iâve ever seen you eat.â
A soft chuckle from Wally. âThatâs right. You havenât.â
Wallyâs grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. Itâs as if youâve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you canât feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.
âButâŠmaybe you should.â
With Wallyâs words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you canât: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Youâre stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.
âOpen your eyes.â
You do so.
And you canât make sense of what you see.
The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhoodâs comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.
Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but itâs like heâs sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. Itâs like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.
Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wallyâs hands. âWhatâs happening?!â
âDonât worry,â says Wally. âYouâre safe.â
âThereâs nothing here,â you whisper. âWhere is everyone?â
âBack Home,â says Wally. âThey canât see us right now. Theyâre not ready.â His smile turns coy. âBut I think you are. Watch this.â
Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wallyâs hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wallyâs face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.
Without warning, Wallyâs eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wallyâs stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.
Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and youâre scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror youâve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.
âWhat happened?!â
âOh, donât be scared,â says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. âThis is just how I eat.â
âHow - did you - do - that?â you gasp.
âIâm not sure. Iâve always eaten this way.â Wally inclines his head in sympathy. âI am sorry if Iâve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I donât interrupt them. I donât want to be rude."
You suck in a huge gulp of breath. âWally, this isâŠimpossible,â you manage. âI want to leave - I want to go Home-â
âYou canât.â
Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wallyâs hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.
âYou understand me so well,â says Wally. âYou see me, donât you?â
âI donât understand.â Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wallyâs, but you canât - and youâre finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.
Wallyâs thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. âI love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But youâŠâ
His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.
â...you see all of me.â
Youâre split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wallyâs touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.
âI do,â you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wallyâs impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.
Now, Wallyâs eyes are not a source of terror. Theyâre a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.
âI think youâre special, you know,â says Wally. âThe way I feel when Iâm around you isâŠdifferent, than with the others. Youâre the absolute most.â
Wallyâs words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. Youâre no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.
This is why Wallyâs next question confuses you so:
âDo you think if our friends saw me like thisâŠtheyâd run away?â
Wallyâs words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though youâre sure that youâre fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wallyâs eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wallyâs scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and youâre slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.
âOh, Wally,â you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, âWaaalllllyyyy.â âWe love you so much. You canât make us run away.â
Wally smiles, and you think itâs the saddest thing youâve ever seen.
âHow I wish that were true.â
Suddenly, Wallyâs eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.
âShh. Donât strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse youâll feel.â
You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wallyâs touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.
âWe donât have much time,â says Wally. âButâŠthank you for this. You canât know how much I appreciate you.â
The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wallyâs - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, âWally, I love you- â
But then he looks away.
The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.
âHey, you two!â
Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadowâs slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.
âEddie wanted me to tell you weâre packing up,â Julie chirps. âLooks like a thunderstorm is coming.â She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wallyâs, and grins. âAm I interrupting something?â
âJust some good old-fashioned fun,â says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.
The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.
Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if youâd just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They wouldâve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.
âJust hungry,â Wally says with a smile. âLetâs get you Home."
Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if youâre okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that youâve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.
Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and youâre thankful itâs only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.
âYou need to tell us if you get this again, okay?â says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.
âOkay,â you say, giving a weak nod.
âThank you. Feel better soon, okay?â
Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined youâll be more than fine in Wallyâs care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.
âHa ha ha,â laughs Wally. âJulie is a good friend. Iâm lucky to have her in my life.â
You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. âI feel the same way about you,â he says.
The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.
âWallyâŠI donât really understand what happened today,â you say. âButâŠI know it doesnât change how much I like you."
The beam that dawns on Wallyâs face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. âThank you,â he whispers.
You canât help but return the grin. âThank you for being vulnerable with me.â
Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.
Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.
When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.
âAlways know,â he says softly, âthat I love you very much.â
Then, heâs leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wallyâs back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.
You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your homeâŠwith the warm memory of Wallyâs kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.
#wally darling x reader#wally darling x you#wally darling#welcome home#welcome home arg#julie joyful#frank frankly#eddie dear#poppy partridge#barnaby b. beagle#sally starlet#howdy pillar#starleskawrites#welcome home fic
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Strawberry ice-cream | the summer in which Luke Castellan fell in love *à©âĄâž
In May, when you first arrived at camp, it was obvious to everyone that you didnât like the place at all. Usually, campers would finally find bit of peace in that lost spot, far from the normal life and the judging mortals. But that wasnïżœïżœïżœt the case for you, you didnât like living there.
The only âjoyâ you had, was the guy who you were assigned to. Luke Castellan, the counsoler of the Hermesâs cabin. The problem was, that he wasnât a joy to be around at all, or at least thatâs what people said. He wasnât like that with you- okay, maybe at first he was ruder and more distant, but you brushed it off as shyness.
Chris, another guy from the Hermesâs cabin, explained he didnât used to be like until he went off to some sort of mysterious quest you werenât allowed to know anything about. But nonetheless, other than being a bit quiet, he wasnât mean or bad to you at all, so you brushed Chrisâs words off as well.
Quick weeks went by and it was already June, and all you did was follow Luke Castellan around. All of the other counsolers tried their best to integrate you inside of the campâs community, but without much results. Itâs just seems as you couldnât enjoy anyoneâs company.
You were quick to get sad, and it took a lot to even get you to open your mouth. It wasnât that you were wary, just irreparably miserable.
Once again, the only light you had, was Luke. He was the only one who seemed to get you, and eventually everyone just gave up on you, leaving the burden to the guy. after all, this was the first time he took on a new camper ever since the quest.
You didnât necessarily despised the camp, or the activities, Luke figured, but you just couldnât bring yourself to like them either. Luke would often see you around camp, pouty, and lost in thoughts. Even when you had a training session with him, you still sighed and huffed everytime you got disarmed. Luke knew not to go hard on you, to be gentler than he normally would, yet it didnât seem to help your case.
You liked lacy tops, and pearly white satin. Even while being in the Aphroditeâs cabin, it still seemed like you couldnât fit in. You always looked helpless.
He tried his best to help you out, and his (only) friend would often tease him about how close the two of you were, the way you would follow him around like a lost puppy, and refuse to get a hand by anyone else.
Whenever Luke couldnât be with youâ to train you or to force you to participate in the campâs activitiesâ you would always find ways to disappear, so that Clarisse (another camp counsoler) couldnât get you. You would disappear in thin air, and Luke would then have to come and find you in the most unthinkable places.
And for some reason, when he was able to find youâ you were always snacking on a pink creamed cone; your signature strawberry ice cream, the one that matched your shiny lipgloss.
<<y/n- theyâre looking for you. Cmon, letâs get out>>
<<but I donât want to>>
And sometimes, he would let you stay hidden. Sitting beside you without letting a word out. He figured you liked the silence. And he did too.
Also, those were the only times in which you look the little bit happier; when you could sneak away and retire in a peaceful snack time. And he liked to see you happy, so heâd just go back to the others (after a good while tho) and tell them he couldnât find you.
But by July, his friend noticed his weird acts. And Luke couldnât hear the end of his big mouth.
<<you need to court her>> or <<you like her so much itâs embarrassing>> or even <<if you donât make her understand your feelings, someone else will steal her from you>>
And he was right, but Luke thought you were just way too sweet for him.
So sweet you could give cavities. While he was all broody and moody. Mad and slightly rude to people who didnât know him before the infamous quest.
Not to mention the way you weâre basically the only person he was nice to, and he personally thought that was enough of a give away; so much of a give away that he often would slap himself at his own awkwardness. but Chris reminded him that you didnât even know how he acted with other people, since he tried so hard to be nice to you and in front of you. So how could you possibly know?
Luke would simply just shrug his shoulders every time, because he just couldnât bring himself to get any closer. Maybe because he was scared, or maybe because he didnât think he was worthy of it.
Nonetheless, you were completely unaware, because if you knew about the boyâs feeling, you definitely wouldnât want to spend anymore time with him, but that definitely wasnât the case, since you always begged for him to be with you, to hang with you and to spend time together.
He would get all red and giddy whenever you looked up to him with your doe eyes, asking him to spend more time with you. Sometimes he would find excuses not to, or other times he would simply agree, and stay silent for most of the time, scared to say something wrong and ruin everything. But you liked it anyways; actually, you loved to talk and loved even more to he listened.
You would spend hours talking to Luke about your newly bought cowboy boots, or whatever vintage find you got from the thrift store in the nearest town. You liked to drink Coca Cola, he learned, and your second favorite sweet treat after strawberry ice-cream were candies, the sugared ones.
You also loved road trips and country songs.
He learned all of these things in silence, simply nodding as you chatted with yourself.
He did find himself repeating all those information to Chris, later in the days when the camp was silent and the two friends could share a quieter moment.
Chris gave up on him at one point, letting his girlfriendâs best friend, Silena from the Aphroditeâs cabin, handle the situation.
But not even Silena seemed to be able to talk to you. You only had eyes (and words) to spar for Luke. Almost refusing anyoneâs else company.
Silena clearly told Chris and Clarisse that there wasnât much she could do. You seemed head over heels for him already. He just needed to understand that.
But Luke was blinded by his insecurities, and by his lack of self-esteem.
Even tho, his ego skyrocket the one time in which you drunkly traced his scar, smiling up like an idiot, and muttering a âyouâre so prettyâ that only him and the near forest nymph could hear.
But that was a story Luke kept to himself.
Chris eventually figured his friend would have to do something at one point, specifically by the end of summer.
And indeed, by August, Luke couldnât even sleep anymore at the thought of you leaving camp. He wouldnât have been able to see you for almost 8 months! That was way too much time.
Everyone noticed the change in his manners, the way he was always so nervous and on the edge of a panic, even you.
<<whats wrong Luke?>>
<<nothing to worry about, just stupid thoughts>>
You light up at his crooked and shy smile. If only you knew.
A week or two before the last day of camp, Chris threatened to push him off of a cliff if he didnât ask you to stay, but for Luke asking you if you even considered staying was already too much, let alone asking you to stay. And for what even? Luke already knew how much you hated camp; you hated the games and the sparring and the swords and the sweat-
<<im not going home for winter>>
He froze on the spot. You couldnât just drop such news without warning, how could you do that? Almost giving him and heart attack.
<<but you- you donât like here>> he said, shuttering
<<I donât like it at home either.>>
<<at least I have you here>>
Luke that day reevaluated the possibility of setting an alter for his dad in his bunk bed, or for any other god who watched over him, because that was definitely a miracle. Someone all the way up in the sky must have had mercy on him and his unfortunate life.
That day, probably on the 28th of August, Luke Castellan came back in the Hermesâs cabin almost at midnight, stumbling around on his own feet on the way to his bed, involuntarily waking up Chris, who cursed him out just for then to stop and stare at his dumbfounded face.
<<what happened?>>
<<sheâs staying>> he smiled, almost scaring his still half asleep friend.
<<âŠ>>
<<man, fuck off>> Chris Rodriguez officially had had enough at that point, but still smiled back to his friend as he laid down in his own bed.
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