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traumatrios · 9 months ago

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the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely.

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged.

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town.

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment).

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine.

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him.

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy.

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends.

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever.

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer.

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.”

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular.

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip.

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes.

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back.

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more.

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming.

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade.

Were you opposed? Not entirely.

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips.

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face.

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose.

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road.

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk.

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

#dodge mason x reader #dodge mason #panic tv show #josie writes!

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lunememes · 1 year ago

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🌙 * ― 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ( a collection of date locations and things to do with your date. feel free to adjust the prompts as needed! do not add to the list. )

a relaxing date

quiet night. our muses snuggle up together beneath a blanket on the couch or in bed and listens as the other muse reads a book to them. bookshop. our muses go to a bookshop and pick out books for each other to read once they get back home. console. our muses play a casual and fun game on a console together, requiring teamwork and strategy. park. our muses take a relaxing walk through the park together to talk and get to know each other better. spa. our muses go to a spa to treat themselves to a day of relaxation and pampering. movie. our muses go to the local cinema to watch a movie together, where they can snack on popcorn and be transported to another world. beach. our muses go to a warm sandy beach, where they can soak up the sun and dip their toes into the sea for a swim or a splash.

a fun date

pins. our muses go to a bowling alley together, where they can play a casual game or aim to have the highest score. wheels. our muses go roller skating together, where they can race one another or skate hand in hand for a more relaxed date. rink. our muses go ice skating together, where they can show off their moves or wobble on the ice and tumble in unison. swim. our muses go swimming together, where they can playfully splash one another, go down the slides or brave the wave pool. shopping. our muses go to the mall together, where they can shop to their hearts content and find a new thing to take home. ride. our muses go horse riding together, either separately or together, and enjoy the sights atop their horses. hole-in-one. our muses go to a crazy golf course, where they must overcome obstacles and get the ball to its end destination. laser. our muses go to a laser tag event and test out their stealth and aim as they try to hunt one another down to tag them. paintball. our muses go paintballing together and form up to be a formidable team or test their skills against each other. rodeo. our muses attempt the mechanical rodeo bull, where one muse must hang on for dear life or try to stay on together.

a delicious date

restaurant. our muses go to a nice restaurant, dressed up and treated to vintage wine and delicious food. fast food. our muses go to a fast food place, where there are no expectations and the company is all that matters. café. our muses go to a homely little café, where they can enjoy a warm drink and homemade cakes. truck. our muses go to a local food truck, where greasy but delicious food is served up right in front of them. homemade. our muses have a home-cooked meal, where one muse cooks the other a delicious and intimate meal. baking. our muses bake something together, sending flour everywhere and bringing out the playfulness of one another. picnic. our muses go on a little picnic together, a quiet patch of grass beneath the warm sun. cold treat. our muses find an ice cream truck and decide to treat themselves to a cold treat. sweet treat. our muses go to a desert place where they can get waffles, crêpes and brownies.

a nature date

zoo. our muses take a trip to the zoo where they can admire all the various walks of life and get the special privilege to feed an animal. wings. our muses visit a butterfly sanctuary, where the air is filled with colourful wings and life flutters all around them. feed. our muses visit a park with a bag of seed on hand to feed the local wildlife, getting to see them up close and personal. sea life. our muses visit and aquarium together, where they can stand beneath a tunnel of water and see sharks and fish swim overhead. sun. our muses find a clearing or a good vantage point to watch the sunrise or sunset together. stars. our muses lay beneath the stars together, where they can try to catch a glimpse of shooting star or point out the constellations. garden. our muses visit a botanical garden, where vibrant colours and fragrant flowers bloom.

an entertaining date

play. our muses attend a play at a theatre, where music fills the halls and actors perform on stage. opera. our muses attend an opera hall, where classical music takes people back to a different age. ballet. our muses attend a ballet showing, where elegance and grace captivates the audience. sport. our muses attend a sports event with the best seats in the house, where they can cheer on their favourite team and have a beer or two. concert. our muses visit a concert together, where the crowd raves to the music and joins in harmony. amusement park. our muses go to an amusement park, where they can relax on a log ride or risk it all with a daring ride. night out. our muses go to a bar where the drinks never end and the party goes well into the night. prize. our muses visit the arcades where they can try to win as many prizes as they can or jump into a stimulation game. old games. our muses have a fun and competitive go at old board games, where it could bring them together or test the strength of their relationship.

an educational date

pottery. our muses attending a pottery class where one muse helps the other to make a pot, hands on. paint. our muses attending a painting class, where they can gift one another their painting or paint one another. dance. our muses attend a dance class, where they can learn a few new moves and share an intimate moment. axe. our muses go to an axe throwing class, where a professional teaches them how to throw axes. museum. our muses go to the museum, where they can learn the earth's history, admire the artwork or venture into space. castle. our muses visit an old castle, where history lingers and people can peer into the past.

a medieval date

renfair. our muses attend a renfair event, dressed up for the occasion and enjoy the festivities. joust. our muses attend a medieval restaurant where they can dine, watch knights joust and have a medieval experience. ball. our muses attend a grand ball, where couples take to the dance floor and let the music flow through them. masquerade. our muses attend a masquerade ball, where masks shrouds faces and scandals thrive. feast. our muses attend a grand feast, where jolly laughter and mountains of food await.

an adventurous date

climb. our muses attend an indoor climbing place or brave the mountains, to put their strength and resilience to the test. camp. our muses take to the wild and set up camp in the woods, putting their survival skills to the test. sail. our muses go on a cruise together, where they can kick back and enjoy a nice cocktail on the ocean waves. lake. our muses brave the brisk waters and go skinny dipping together for some naughty fun. rapids. our muses go canoeing in the treacherous waters of a fast running river sky diving. our muses take to the skies and go sky diving, either together or side by side, and experience the world from above. slope. our muses go skiing or snowboarding together, soaring past the snow covered trees and gaining air with ramps.

an unconventional date

heist. our muses go on a more unconventional date and go on a heist together to bring home a new, shiny and expensive addition. fight. our muses attend a fighting match where adrenaline is high and cheers fill the room. rage. our muses go to a rage room and smash things together, letting out pent up rage and stress in union. graveyard. our muses visit a graveyard at night, where they can try to scare one another with a scary story or visit the dead. ghosts. our muses try to find the paranormal in an abandoned place, where spirits are said to linger. hunting. our muses go hunting together, but what exactly will they be hunting? escape. our muses go to an escape room, where they will need to work together if they ever stand a chance of getting out. sacrifice. our muses perform a ritual with the intention of summoning something, but is it for fun or is it something all the more sinister?

#date prompts #valentine prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #rp meme #inbox memes #ask memes #rp starters

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chishiyasbiscuits · 4 months ago

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simon says! || chishiya x reader xo

[3.8k words.]

[Warning: Smut, your casual riding, very casual. No extra kinks, I don't believe? Any extra warnings, do inform, please, and thank you!]

[This is a long one to initiate my return. I'm proud of this one, and excited to share, I haven't written with Chishiya in a year, and I'm hoping my literary skills have increased. Please do enjoy. Lots of love xo]

Why did we, as humans, feel the need to consume the earth? Why do most believe our calloused fingertips were created to grip, and clutch, and control. Why are some of us prone to obeying, and others, not?

Niragi shifts his shoulder, and the rifle brushes the clothed skin of his bicep. His brows furrow, and knit with a wire of concern, but mainly, uncertainty.

Niragi orders, and he instructs. He would never follow. He's higher on the ladder of obedience, consuming all beneath him. He hitches, and tenses. "What the hell is this?" He curses. There's an unattractive scowl upon his parted lips.

Chishiya lowers his head, repressing his smirk. He was knowingly aware, all of the time, and it had frustrated me. How it must feel to never be caught off-guard?

The screens were lightening, and the words scrawled along them began to flicker. It was no longer a matter of seconds, the game was beginning, and now. Kuina neared me, her shoulder couldn't have brushed mine. She was at least a head taller than me, and I had to tilt my chin to catch the way her unlit cigarette had pressed, cautiously, along her pursed lips. She was focused, but unsure. The air had thickened with an unfamiliar silence.

Her eyes darkened. I stole a glance toward Arisu, and Usagi. Theirs had too. Arisu was thinking, hard. The cogs spurring before a game had even been established.

"Game title." The female voice was mechanical, as always. "Simon Says." Completely devoid of emotion, monochromatic sentences strung across the screen. "Rules." She began. I could hear the spur of breaths, deepening, quickening. Some slowing, others hitching. Others ceasing, as if they had mentally pulled the plug on themselves. Kuina was stagnant. Her fingertips pressed along the faux cigarette, and she rolled her thumb, and forefinger patiently. She had barely brought her lashes down into a blink. Niragi was unamused. I could only infer what he had been doing before the speakers had begun. Flashes of static had rounded the sheep of the beach. The population all eyes, and ears. Excitement, and uncertain fear.

Chishiya's lips had rose smoothly. I swallowed drily, in return. It was almost frightening how nonchalantly he slid his fisted palms into his pockets, and rested his clothed spine, and head along a nearby pillar. His chest lifted, and fell softly. There wasn't a sign of distress, or anxiety, not within his stance, or the light flecks within his searching eyes.

"To pass this game, one must obey the screen's orders. Each specified amount of minutes, the screen will have a new rule for the participants to follow. Failure to do so will result in the player being disqualified."

I had audibly released a long-held sigh. My shoulders relaxed, softly slumping. It wasn't so bad. Obey, really, and that's all. The only hint of difficulty would be for the lions, and tigers of this food chain. Niragi, I hummed, Aguni, too.

"The first rule will be displayed shortly."

The screen flickered. I wrapped my arms over my waist, my fingertips digging, deep, into the dents of my ribs, and leaving reddened, crescent-shaped marks. Chishiya was eyeing me, curiously, but I had refused to give in, and lock eyes. I swallowed, again, and strained my stare, until my irises burnt, and stung, as if there were rogue flames flittering from the screens.

"Simon Says, make the area around you empty of participants."

The silence faltered, and fragmented quickly. Shattering, as if our focus was a china plate, and the screen was a rampant bull. "What does that even mean?" Someone called to her peers. "You have five minutes to follow this rule."

She shrieked, lightly. Her eyes wide, and doe, like an animal in brightened headlights. She stilled, and the man beside her clasped her shoulder, and shook her. "What does it mean?" He was both frustrated, and urgent. Spit coating his chapped lips.

"It means you're all dead, fuckers!" Niragi snorted, raising his rifle from his shoulder, and aiming the tip toward the ceiling. He shot once, and then twice, until his prey had begun to scatter, and shuffle about each other like pigeons rushing from a nearing car. He slung the weapon forward, and took aim. Ruthlessly letting the sharp tips of his bullets become blood-stained, as they embedded themselves into the bare flesh of his victims.

I cursed beneath my quickening breath. Niragi had knocked at least twelve residents to the floor, and the remaining participants had either fled, or had begun slaughtering those surrounding them, as Niragi had implied would be the meaning attached to the rule.

Kuina was long-gone. Arisu, and Usagi, and Chishiya, too. I thought deeply, and began to raise my pace. I neared a pillar, and rounded it cautiously. Slipping through entwined bodies, pushing past the shoulders of injured players. Sweat, and blood, and possibly tears had coated the skin of my palms. I winced. Brushing them along the lower cloth of my swimsuit. I was inside, now, and the screams had been muffled by thick, concrete walls. They faded, softly, yet not so softly. It was eerily quiet, and desolate, as my aching soles brushed the carpet beneath me. I slowed to a still. Stagnant. Chasing after my own, spent breath.

"Time is up." The voice radiated, like heat, throughout the architecture. I dared soften my features, and the tensing muscles of my calves. I leant along a wall, the plaster chipped, and leaving eggshell pieces against the small of my back. "Congratulations, to those who have survived."

I had figured, really, quite early on, that the rule was simple. The corridor was empty, and I was safe. Easy. These games had always urged for violence, through leading the participants in a false direction, but those who knew, knew that these types were often overcome easily, with no need for death. The remaining participants had conformed, wrongly.

"Your next rule: Simon Says, engage in sexual intercourse with the first person you see. You have ten minutes to find a partner. Failure to do so, and failure to begin initiating sexual intercourse within this time limit will lead to your disqualification."

My brows arched, and my features had become sharp, and thinly layered with sweat. It was an odd rule for this game, and for any game, really, but I had no time to ponder. I had to obey, whether it stretched my moral grounds, or my boundaries. I had to live, and dying for the reason of not wanting to have sex would be an embarrassing way out.

I sighed, and began to walk. Slowly, at first, as if I were hesitant. I picked at my cuticles, and lightly chewed my lower lip, as I searched the upper floor. I was both curious, and afraid of who I may come across first, and had pleaded, with all the strength my limbs could give, that it wouldn't be Niragi. I wasn't sure if I did, truly, have someone in mind. Out of the residents here, who would I fuck? That's an outrageous question to think over. My vision was blurred, and my head fogged. I couldn't begin to think, even if I had wanted to.

"Interesting."

"What?" I inhaled, sharply. My lungs felt as though they were two sizes too small for the oxygen I needed to consume. I winced at the ache, and turned, cautiously, on the heel of my foot.

"Chishiya?" I swallowed a breath. I searched him, traced his features, and scanned up, and down his stance. He perked a brow. His smirk was soft, but smug. His head fell, ever so slightly, to the side as he spoke. "What a nice surprise, hm?"

He was quiet, but amused. Repressing the urge to chuckle through his nostrils. His palms were hidden, comforted by thick cotton. He blinked, slowly, peering at me through his thick, dark lashes.

My limbs were red-hot, and pulsing. My stomach knotted, over, and over, and then wringed itself out like a dirty, damp dishcloth.

"Do you want us both to die?" He questioned, after a few seconds of silence. I swallowed, and shook my head, quietly. "Why would I? That's silly."

His lip quirked higher. "What's truly silly is that you're wasting time, when you could be having sex with me."

He was smug with the reaction. My cheeks heating. Tinted a faded red. My lips parted, only for silence to ensue. I was stilled. Thoroughly shaken by his careless words. Lazy, but sexual. Chishiya was never sexual. My heart quickened its pace, beating roughly against my ribs. They felt as though they were closing in, and shrinking. Squeezing my organs, tightly.

He clicked the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and neared me. His hands still encased within the cloth of his pockets. I remained stagnant, until his shoulder met mine. They brushed, and his head dipped low. The stray strands of his hair, that had fell from within his hood, were feathery, and light along my jaw. His breath was warm. Gentle across my cheek, and the shell of my red-tinted ear. "Would you rather me initiate?"

I'm certain he was well aware of the answer. He was toying with me, though. Urging the return from between my lips. My lower stomach tightened. He hummed, questioningly. My knees had threatened to buckle, lightly shaking, as I ran my tongue along my lips. He wanted to see how far he could push me, taunt me, tease me. "If you're really so desperate, Chishiya?" I smiled, coyly, tilting my chin upward, and twisted to the side. My eyes met his, irises dilating beneath my lashes. His smirk had only become more enticing. Stretched softly across his cheeks. His eyes were lazily flickering between mine. Searching, searching. He was amused, his utmost interest had been piqued.

"Didn't think you'd like this sort of thing, Chishiya." His name rolled alluringly from the tip of my tongue. His brow twitched. "Hm. Is that so?" He dragged. "What made you think such a thing, Y/n?" He returned, within the same manner. My name a low, tempting whisper. I watched his full lips form the sentences, absent-mindedly wetting my own. He was following me, carefully. Matching the behaviour I had allowed him to see.

He tilted forward, ever so slightly, his lips parting. It was subtle. My jaw ticked. "Let's take this somewhere private. I'd much prefer if we weren't interrupted."

For a second, I was expecting him to kiss me, and I'm sure he had read the belief, as if I were an open book. He smirked harder, if that could have been possible. "We can't waste time kissing, unfortunately." He watched me, closely. His stare hardening. The words had left his lips so sincerely, I couldn't help but startle, and choke on the breath I had been gathering. "We have five minutes, and I have to be inside of you for the initiation to count."

Was this truly happening? My brain was static. He raised a palm, and waved it, side to side, before my blank expression. "Have you turned off?" He teased. "I was hoping for the opposite."

"No, no." I shook my head, and swallowed. Straightening my spine, and composing myself. This is life or death, Y/n.

We were quick, or as quick as Chishiya could be. He was nonchalant, too careless to truly be affected by the entire premise of this sex, and violence fuelled game. I was nervous, on the other end. Cursing at myself for not having had any liquid courage before the screens had fell. I was itching at my wrist, and making the bones within my fingers click. Trailing the tip of my tongue along my inner cheek, and chewing on the skin of my lower lip.

He was beneath me now; on the bed of a resident, I could only assume had been slaughtered. His head was leant along the wooden bedframe, his upper body was propped up, by his clothed elbows being buried within the mattress. His fingers raised, and wrapped lightly around the rim of his hood. His chin dipped, and then raised, as the cloth fell along his tousled hair. "Do you want to stop, now?" He questioned, as he watched me, still, rested on his hips. My thighs either side of him, caging his clothed pelvis. "No, I want you." I returned, confidently. My breath faltered, when his brow had flickered upward. "I never asked if you had wanted me, Y/n." He was being cocky, now. Smirk edging along his lips, silently. His features were soft, no sharpened lines, or angles. He was gorgeous beneath this dim light. Eyes dark, and lidded, lips wet, and full. Beneath me.

I smiled, smugly. "Don't be cocky, Chishiya." He sent me an amused look. "Didn't think you were the type to be a pillow prince." I teased, regaining myself. I shuffled forward, pressing my heat down, between his parted legs. He hadn't reacted, though the muscles within his thighs had tensed. His head fell softly, with a light thump. "Ah, you're switching the subject, Y/n."

His palms were fished from his pockets, half-heartedly, and hung themself over the skin of my hips, like loose cloth. His grip wasn't tight. His fingertips feathery, as he rolled his thumb across the exposed flesh, dipping beneath the thin fabric of the swimsuit.

"Just ride me." He spoke, far from affected by the lewd sexuality of his request. The words should have been desperate, but he had uttered them so listlessly. He was languid, as he squeezed my upper thigh with his cupped palms, pulling the thin strip of fabric from my hips with his curled fingers.

I bucked forward, subtly. Pushing my clothed, aching clit along the slowly forming bulge. I could feel it, now. His cock, beneath his swim shorts, pulsing beneath me. It was heated, where I was settled on his crotch. His shorts had been filled well, tightening each time I had slid my hips forward, teasingly.

I raised myself, and he slid the remaining cloth down my thigh, gently brushing them as he did so. He squeezed, lightly, cupping the thick flesh. I could see his bulge, now. The outline. My breath hitched, clit swollen, and desperate. He knew, of course he knew. He was smug with what he had done to me. He smiled, in a self-satisfied way.

He watched me, carefully, eyes never threatening to leave my own, as he led his palm beneath his shorts, and held himself. His grip tightened, and then he pulled himself from beneath the cloth. He was watching curiously, now, smirk stretching. He wanted to see my features contort. Wanted to see how I had reacted to his cock, hardening further, in his hand. He was above average, only slightly, but enough for the saliva to build within my cheeks, and my tongue. I swallowed, as if his cock was already stuffing my jaws, and his cum was dripping down my throat. I shamelessly clenched around the thin air, resisting the urge to buck forward, and violate the oxygen particles surrounding us.

"You're not hiding much, Y/n." He speaks, lowly, lifting his cupped palm, excruciatingly slow along his shaft. The tip of his thumb pressed along his slit, and rolled softly, collecting the loose drips of pre-cum. "You really do want me, don't you?"

My eyes drop, unable to hold his stern, yet taunting stare. He sighs, exhales, quietly. "Don't just watch me."

He drops his arm, and his empty fingers find solitude within his pockets, once more. His cock is standing, and curved toward his abdomen. Neglected, yet prepared to be buried deep inside of you. Chishiya watched, blinking slowly. Lethargically. Of course, he isn't the type to take the majority of the action. I push a breathy whimper down the tightening confines of my throat, as he holds the base of his cock with one palm, and steadies himself. Allowing me to sink onto his cock, his swollen, leaking tip spreading me wide, and then wider, as I had sunk further down his shaft.

He was stretching me. Stagnant, his hips remained low. It ached, and stung, yet the displeasure was temporary. I was quickly reminded of how deep the man beneath me was, inside of me. His cock sucked, tight, between my walls. I clenched, and he twitched. I could only imagine his fists were balling up within his pockets. My own, were clutching the fabric of his hoodie between my fingertips. He smirked, knowingly. "This isn't about the game, is it, Y/n?" He questioned, softly, watching lazily, as I had begun lifting, and dropping myself down on him.

"What." I breathed, shakily. My clutch tightened. His cock slid, so effortlessly, plunging back inside of me, each time I had sunk down, after lingering with his tip between my folds. It was an attempt to tease him. Drag a whimper from between his cockily parted, dampened lips.

"It's not about the life, or death here." He expanded, searching me, with a glint of pride within his darkened irises. "The way you're using me to satisfy you so desperately. It's genuine."

I scoff, with the little breath I had within my expanding, and shrinking lungs. My chest heaved, with each bounce. "You think I want to fuck you?"

He was quiet, but had a knowing look across his features.

"No, no. I'm doing this so I don't die." I argue between ragged breaths. It was difficult to think straight, and to reply coherently, when he was stuffing me so well. So, so full. He pulsed inside of me, my walls tightening around his cock as he dipped, in, and out, in, and out. My lower lip slid between my teeth. My eyes rolling beneath my eyelids.

Chishiya smirked to himself, tilting his chin backward, as his blinking faltered, and his lashes fluttered. He raised his hips upward, in a way, as if he were repositioning himself. No moan, no whimper, no grunt, or groan. If you had listened closely, you could hear his breath pick up pace, but that was all. The exposed part of his smooth chest raised, softly. Falling, quickly. The zipper struggled against his expanding lungs, and dipped downward, revealing his chest, even more.

He was so unbothered, even as he had me slamming down on his balls, sucking his entire cock between my plush, clenching walls. I dropped harder, and faster, drawing a slight breath from between his lips. Relieved, and satisfied. His dampened palms left his pockets, and drew softly, up, and down the heated skin of my waist. I hummed, biting back a surfacing moan.

He sighed. "I saw you walk upstairs, and into the third corridor, before the second rule had begun." He was watching me, contentedly, as if were expecting something from me. A reaction, or an answer. My brain was misted, and fogged, like the windows would surely be if we were in a car, right now.

I furrowed my brows, a sensation circling my lower stomach, like a sneeze preparing on the tip of my tongue.

"You..." I swallowed. "You knew where I was?"

He lowered his head, a lethargic nod. He was smirking, still, and searching me, expectantly.

"S...so..." I stammered, racking the mess of my brain, like my IQ had been rearranged, just as my guts were being. I was almost slurring, his cock drawing a drunk effect on my mind.

He didn't correct me, or urge me, or return. He simply laid back, thumbs tracing the dips within my hip. Gladly appreciating the heat, and pleasure I had given him. His eyes had dipped, for the first time tonight, lightly flittering over the outline of his cock in my lower stomach. Pride.

I was left to infer. He had known where I was, before the second rule had begun. He had bumped into me, or had he? Had he found me, knowingly. My eyes lit, and caught his gaze, once more. My lips parted. His lips rose.

He wanted to find me.

"You wanted to find me?" I questioned, falteringly. The ball in my stomach was knotting tighter, and was prepared to be undone. He lifted himself, once, twice. Effortless. Angling himself, so that the tip of his cock had pressed the deepest it had been, brushing my g-spot. Teasing an orgasm with each listless stroke. He was breathing harder, now, head brushing the wooden frame, and focused, entirely on drawing an orgasm from deep inside of me. I was slack-jawed, muscles tensing. My eyes were lured to the back of my head. His hair was messy, his lips parted, his eyes half-lidded. Cheeks a faded red, the smooth expanse of his revealed chest shiny with a thin sheen of sweat.

The air was thick with tension, but quiet, bar the breathing, the soft whimpers, low groans, and slapping, dampened skin.

"Chish...Chishiya." I moaned, loudly. Eyes screwing shut, as the ball in my stomach loosened, and each, and every muscle and limb I had possessed tensed, and pulsed with rushing blood. My walls squeezed the girth of his cock, as he slid back inside of me, luring a deep, breathy groan from the man beneath me. His eyes closed, and his brows furrowed sharply, his lips parting, yet his jaw was loose. He even looked calm, and unaffected during his orgasm.

I watched in awe, breathless. Unable to string any two words together, but I was certain he was able to. He swallowed, eyes drifting to the far corner, before tracing my features. "I found you, on purpose." He spoke. No stutter, or stammer, or slur. I blinked. My lips still parted; I was sure to be catching flies.

He inhaled, and exhaled, accordingly. "You were the first person I could think of that I wouldn't have minded doing this with." His head had fallen to the side, his hair dropping to frame his jaw. He smirked. "Thanks, I guess?" I answered, uncertainly. I wasn't too sure whether he had just complimented me, or not.

He chuckled breathily, through his nostrils, chest jerking. "You can get off now."

"Oh...oh, right, yeah." I blinked back my daze, and lifted myself from his half-hard cock, and dropped myself, gently, beside him. The covers were pleasingly cool, in contrast to Chishiya's warm crotch, though I wouldn't have minded being above him longer.

He glanced at me knowingly. Reading me, as if there were printed black letters across my forehead.

If we survive this game, this won't be the last time he finds me above him. I know that, and he does, too. Almost, as if he yearns for it, just as much as I do.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland smut #smut #chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiyasbiscuits

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supernotnatural2005 · 2 months ago

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'Giddy up Cowboy' (Drabble)

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: The power of impression leads to wondrous things.

Word Count: 822

Prompt: ‘Character B tries to impress Character A’

Warnings: Dean riding a mechanical bull 🥵🥵

AN: This is another square completed for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. It's a short one I know but, I think it fit perfectly for this prompt 😄

Read the follow up here

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

“Don’t you just love a man who knows how to ride one of those things?" You sigh dreamily, watching man after rugged-looking man try their damnedest at riding the mechanical bull.

There was just something so downright sexy about watching a guy flex his thighs and roll his hips in time with the sway of the machine. If you didn’t know any better, it seems as though you may have discovered a new turn-on for yourself.

“Um, not really Y/N.” Sam chuckles before taking a drink from his beer. You smack his arm in jest because he knew you were being rhetorical. You cease, however, when your attention is soon re-captured by another man stepping up for his turn.

Meanwhile Dean frowns at you, his eyes glancing between you and the men making complete fools of themselves, in his opinion. Not one of them had been able to stay on for a full minute. There was nothing impressive about that, so he couldn’t see as to why you thought so.

‘Because you just hate the fact she’s gawking at other men.’ Came the niggling voice in the back of his mind. A voice that hadn’t shut up about you for months now.

Again, the new guy was flung from the machine, this time before even 30 seconds were up, and Dean scoffs. Apparently it was loud enough for your attention to turn to him.

“What? You think you can do any better, Winchester?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I think even Sammy here could do better than these goons.” Dean sasses back, and Sam frowns, knowing that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. You squint your eyes at Dean, too suspiciously for his liking, and he distracts himself with a pull from his beer.

“Then why don’t you hop on? Show these goons—"you imitate his deep voice, "what you’ve got?” You challenge him playfully, almost like you didn’t believe he would.

Fine, he thinks stubbornly. Maybe this time you’ll actually notice me; comes that voice again.

You had been a casual hunting partner with the boys for a few months now; your knowledge, skill, and witty humour brought a fresh new light into their lives, and they both enjoyed having you around. Dean maybe more so, for other reasons.

Finishing the rest of his beer in one big gulp, he stands from the table with a cocky smirk. “I’ll show you how a real man does it, sweetheart.” Sam cringes at his brothers statement, and Dean has to admit it was a cheap line, but it got that smile out of you. The one that made your eyes shine.

As Dean pays the operator, he looks over at you one last time and sends you a wink before he steps up onto the mat and effortlessly mounts the bull. He blows out a breath, suddenly nervous. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself now, not with the mouth he’d given you.

Dean gives the guy a thumbs up once he’s situated, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His only thought; she’s watching, like a mantra in his mind. He hears the whirring of the machine spark to life, and no sooner as it did, does the bull begin to rock.

At first, it’s a gentle forward and backward motion until it begins to spin. Dean clenches his knees tighter and rolls his hips, matching the same motion as the bull. He holds his left arm out for balance as the bull begins whipping around at a much faster pace. He grips on for dear life, the cheer from the crowd gathered drowning into nothingness as he puts all his concentration into staying on.

It feels like a lifetime before he finally hears the operator announce he’d broken the 90 seconds before the bull gradually begins to wind down to a stop. An eruption of cheers, mostly from the women in the crowd, surrounds him as he hops down. Even some of the guys who’d failed shake his hand impressed as he steps off the mat. He nods politely as he pushes his way through, ignoring the women trying to get his attention—his eyes only searching for you.

You’re standing at the back of the crowd, having moved to get a better view, your smile dazzling and eyes alight with wonder.

“So. Was I better?” Dean asks, a little breathless from his effort but also incredibly curious. You take a step closer to him, your lips pulling up into a smirk as you come toe to toe. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his chest, and he’s certain you can feel what the simple action does to his heart.

“You did great! But I think I can ride him better.” Your eyes glisten with mischief as you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear.

“And I’m not talking about the bull.”

Read part 2 here.

AN: Again, I know it was a short one but I have much more planned for the rest of my squares, maybe a series in the works 👀 As always I really appreciate any feedback! Let me know what you though 💕

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vifilms · 8 months ago

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❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved).

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means.

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look.

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further.

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer.

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip.

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move.

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see.

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place.

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer.

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before?

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.”

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer.

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain.

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach.

it’s just there.

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here.

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe.

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass.

well, it seems sudden to you.

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.”

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response.

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right.

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?”

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?”

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.”

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her.

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?”

you visibly gulp as she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped.

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how.

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her.

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.”

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours.

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.”

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once.

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck.

you’ve never been so doomed to fall.

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even.

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip.

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there.

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse.

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips.

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance.

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something.

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck.

“are you going to put your hat back on?”

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips.

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested.

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head.

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.”

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

#I MISSED WRITING ABOUT MY GIRL #more abby content coming very soon <3 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #the last of us #country!abby #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x poc reader #tlou x reader #abby anderson smut

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scrollonso · 5 months ago

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Ride, Cowboy — Marcmarc

Pecco's bachelor party was in full swing, and the academy boys were set on making it a night to remember. They had chosen a popular country-themed bar for the occasion, its rustic decor and vibrant atmosphere setting the perfect stage for one final evening of freedom. The bar was adorned with wooden tables, vintage signs, and checkered tablecloths. A live band played upbeat country music, their melodies mixing with the hum of conversations and clinking glasses. The centerpiece of the night was the mechanical bull, positioned prominently in the center of the room, promising both challenge and entertainment.

Pecco, dressed in casual attire that subtly hinted at his upcoming marriage, was surrounded by his closest friends �� Vale, Marco, Luca, Franky, Cele, and Mig. The guys were in high spirits, their laughter filling the room as they enjoyed shots and swapped stories. Racing was momentarily forgotten as they indulged in playful banter and reminisced about past adventures. Even Pecco, who usually preferred a more low-key presence in such settings, was swept up in the energy of the night.

As they navigated through the crowd, the music shifted to a heavier beat, drawing their attention to the mechanical bull as the lights dimmed. A group of incredibly attractive girls had taken over the area, each one more stunning than the last. They were taking turns on the bull, their laughter and cheers creating an infectious buzz throughout the bar. The guys couldn’t help but watch, half-impressed, half-entertained by the scene.

“Dio mio,” Luca muttered, his eyes widening in admiration. “They’re amazing!”

Vale, ever the responsible older brother, gave Luca a playful slap on the back of the head. “You’re married, Luca! Keep your eyes where they belong.”

Luca quickly apologized, his face reddening as he assured his brother he was just appreciating the spectacle.

Marco, grinning, elbowed Pecco. “You sure you’re ready to settle down? Because it looks like we’ve got some serious competition here.”

Pecco chuckled, shaking his head. “No way, man. Domi’s the only girl for me. But... I can appreciate the view.”

The group erupted in laughter as one of the girls — a tall blonde with a dazzling smile — took her turn on the bull. She managed to stay on longer than anyone else, her skill and confidence drawing cheers from the crowd. The boys exchanged glances, silently daring each other to give it a try.

“Alright, Pecco,” Franky said, nudging him toward the bull. “Last night of freedom — let’s see what you’ve got!”

“Yeah, show us how a pro rider handles a bull,” Cele added with a smirk.

Pecco raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing as he shook his head. “I’m not getting thrown off that thing tonight. But if you guys want to make fools of yourselves, be my guest!”

And then he took the stage.

Stole the show.

And then this absolutely gorgeous man jumped into the ring and easily swung himself up on the bull. Marco couldn’t see a whole lot of details from this far, but what he could see definitely woke the beast in him.

The man was fit, legs deliciously bowed as if he was made to ride a bull or a horse. The man was a cowboy, and Marco's childhood fantasies of the cowboys in old western movies came flooding back.

The man gripped the handle on the bull with his left hand, muscles bulging enough for even Marco to see. He pressed his heels against the sides of the bull, scooting forward in the saddle, and held up his right hand, arm in the shape of an L. He took a deep breath, sagged down in the saddle as he breathed out, and nodded to the person operating the bull for the group.

And rode for an astonishing 12.72 seconds. It had to be a sign.

His movements were completely fluid, he was one with the bull, there was no doubt about it and Marco found himself completely entranced. He couldn’t honestly say that his jaw didn’t drop because he could focus on nothing but this Adonis of a man riding the shit out of that bull, his movements flawless.

Marco had no idea what the group was speaking about anymore, all he knew was he wanted to be that bull. He needed to be that bull. His whole body flushed hot, his dick taking an abnormal amount of interest in the whole thing, and his brain demanding that he march down there and claim the man.

He rode the whole time with a cocky grin on his lips, eyes trained on the back of the bull’s head, and just as the clock signaled twelve seconds, the man changed his body position and tumbled gracefully off the bull in the next moment, seemingly by his own choice, rather than being flung off like all the others had been.

Marco was on his way over to the man before he had even made a conscious decision about it, his scotch abandoned precariously on the table he'd reserved for the party.

He slowed his steps as he was closing in on the crowd around the mechanical bull, pacing himself as if approaching a business proposal. Hell, he didn’t even know if the man was interested in sleeping with men and Marco recognized how it could be a sensitive topic, so he wanted to approach this in a suitable fashion. But on the other hand, he had never been this aroused from just watching someone before. He could only hope it wasn’t noticeable, on his face or otherwise.

The group of people had grown since Marco first started watching them, and even though they all congratulated the man on his excellent time, it was clear that most of them were strangers. There was a small group that seemed to be the man’s friends, though, and Marco came upon them just as the man was walking over, grinning widely.

How unfair, Marco thought, that the man was so stunning and not his.

“That was great, Marc,” a young man with long, brown hair was saying just as Marco walked up to them, clapping the man on his shoulder.

Marc. What an appropriate name, Spanish from the sound of the groups accents. What a good cowboy name.

“Not my best,” the man — Marc — answered in a tone that suggested he was trying to be modest. “But definitely best so far tonight.”

So he was competitive, this Marc. Marco liked that in a man. Liked it even more when competitive men bent over for him, not because they thought they had to but because they desperately wanted to. Oh, just the thought of having Marc turn into putty in Marco's hands made him hot all over again.

Also, competitiveness was one of the most easily manipulated personality traits, in Marco's experience.

“So good,” he said in a strong, dominant voice, “that you won’t be able to repeat it.”

Marc's whole entourage turned to Marco, collectively giving him a once over, and he straightened, not the least frightened. Just to be certain Marc would rise to the bait, Marco lifted his chin high, looking down his nose at Marc and, as predicted, that made Marc's hackles rise.

“Excuse me?”

Marc had a very pleasant voice. A low, threatening baritone that made Marco vibrate much more pleasantly than that godforsaken bass.

Marco shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, if you’re as good as you seem to think, you should be able to repeat your performance.”

Marc snorted, turning fully to Marco, without a doubt the head of his group, shoulders squared and cocky grin back.

“Twelve seconds is nothing, man. That was just warm-up.”

By the look the older man with the wavy hair threw Marc, Marco suspected that twelve seconds was actually a rather good time and one that might be hard for Marc to beat. And Marco wanted Marc to win. Wanted him cocky and sure of himself as he submitted to Marco's touches.

“It was pure luck,” he challenged in a haughty tone, enjoying the twinkle in Marc's eyes.

“And who are you to say that?” a bigger man behind Marc asked in a gruff voice, the same man that congratulated him earlier. “Some kind of expert, are you?”

Marco spared the man a glance. Twinky, but a decent face. Marc sure knew how to pick handsome friends Marco would give him that. But they all paled in the face of Marc's appearance.

“Oh, I’m certain I would fall on my face if I ever tried,” Marco answered in a calm voice, smiling to himself when him admitting that made the man’s face fall. Marc, however, looked at Marco with sudden interest. “I was merely proposing a bet, since you impressed me and seem so sure of your own abilities,” he directed the last words to Marc, who drew himself up.

“Bull riding isn’t a joke.”

“So, you’re afraid?” Marco enjoyed seeing Marc flounder. “Well maybe it’s for the best. You must be tired; I doubt you would even last five seconds now.”

“Five seconds?” Marc spluttered, some of his group laughing, though it was unsure whether they were amused by the situation or Marc's suddenly squeaky voice. Marc walked into Marco's personal space and puffed out his chest. He smelled incredible. “I’ll last much more than that on any day.”

His low growl made Marco's whole body tingle. “Is that so?” he murmured, letting his eyes roam Marc's face and body. Marc definitely noticed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Marc grunted and Marco's eyes snapped up to Marc's, captivated by their beauty for a moment.

“I would, actually,” he easily admitted, voice low and inviting. “I would like to know that very much.”

Time seemed to stall for a moment, each caught in the other’s gaze, and Marco felt a thrill go through him. This was interesting, this was worth his time. Much more so than snorting tequila and salt from a random woman’s slick body or dancing poorly on rickety tables. Marco felt more alive in this moment than he had in years.

“Five seconds isn’t even a challenge,” the larger man said, interrupting them.

Marc seemed to shake himself.

“Eight, then,” Marco said with a confident smirk. “I bet you fifty euro you won’t last another eight seconds.”

“Fifty euro,” Marc muttered, eyeing Marco's clothes for the first time and seemingly only now realizing it wasn’t a cheap knock-off. “You better be able to fork that up, mate.”

“Don’t you worry about that, cowboy,” Marco winked and watched with satisfaction how Marc's pupils dilated slightly.

He muttered something that sounded like “whatever” and turned to go back to the bull. It had been busy in the background, flinging people off it left and right, and the crowd around it had grown even more but Marco easily found an empty seat where he could comfortably watch from afar.

Marc was talking to his friends, some of them throwing Marco looks, but Marc seemed determined to do this. Marco hoped they weren’t trying to talk him out of it because they thought he would hurt himself, Marco would be devastated if he inadvertently caused Marc harm. Most likely they were talking about the money, though, on the off-chance that Marc lost the bet. Marco really hoped that wouldn’t happen. No this was a battle he was willing to lose, to win the war, so to speak.

When it was finally Marc's turn to mount the bull again Marco was buzzing with anticipation, although he concealed it well enough. He saw Marc's friends tossing him glances from where they were standing, up by the ring, but he paid them no heed. He was perfectly comfortable back here, where he could pull one leg up and rest the ankle against his other knee, to hide inappropriate body reactions.

Because Marc was of course just as splendid the other time around. Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as Marc expertly rode the bull. He was either a natural or he had done this a lot, Marco easily concluded. Maybe he had even ridden real bulls? Now there was a thought.

A thick, muscular, frothing animal bucking as Marc worked every muscle in his glorious body just to stay on.

Marco grabbed his ankle and pulled on his leg a little, his dick swelling to ridiculous proportions just imagining Marc working the animal. Marc's face and body told of experience and Marco watched with hooded eyes as Marc frowned down at the fake bull, concentration wearing on his handsome face.

Would he look as concentrated when he rode Marco? Most likely not, not if Marco had any say in what went on. No, if he — when he was in charge, Marc would be completely relaxed, face slack as pleasure crested inside him.

Marco let out a shaky breath. He needed to calm down or Marc would be more disgusted than intrigued and Marco didn’t want that at all. Suddenly he felt as if he would suffocate if Marc looked at him with hatred and he was momentarily stunned by his own feelings. What did he care, really, what Marc thought of him? Marc was essentially a nobody, a stranger whose station was so below Marco it wasn’t even funny.

Except, when he watched Marc ride that bull, all of that seemed inconsequential. They were just two men in that moment, and Marco desired to stay like that almost as much as he desired Marc, as much as he coveted the man’s pleasure.

The ride ended somewhat more abruptly this time, compared to when last Marc rode. It still looked as if Marc had been in control of when to end it but as if he had been a bit more tired this time around and his tumble off the bull was less graceful and it took him a moment longer to get up off the padded area around the bull.

The long-haired man helped Marc off the stage and Marco stood up just as Marc walked over to him on adorably wobbly legs. A quick glance to the digital clock revealed an astounding 9.57 and Marco made sure to show appropriate surprise and awe, instead of the actual relief and arousal he actually felt.

“There,” Marc said, hands on his hips and voice delectably breathless. “Piece of cake.”

“So I see,” Marco said smugly and walked over to Marc, much too close even for acquaintances. “I’m man enough to own up to my loss,” he said with a smile and pulled out his wallet to fish out a fifty, one among many, though he didn’t show Marc that, not interested in catching the man that way.

“I hope there’s no hard feelings?” Marc said as he accepted the bill, their fingers brushing.

Marc's hand was shaking slightly, no doubt from exertion, and Marco was happy he had lowered the time for the bet so as not to force Marc to match his old time.

“None at all,” Marco said with an intimate smile, leaning in and speaking in a lower tone. “You should know, I’m also man enough to admit that I only wanted to see you ride that bull again.”

That made Marc's eyes flick down to Marco's mouth and up again. Marco enjoyed the fact that Marc actually was a bit shorter than him, if only an inch, and definitely smaller.

There was a beat of silence and then, “Are you sure you’re only interested in seeing me ride bulls?”

A pleasurable wave so forceful it almost choked him washed over Marco and he swallowed once to be sure his voice was under control.

“I can imagine you’re apt at riding all sorts of things.”

Marc shifted from foot to foot. Marco's blood rushed in his ears, drowning out every sound except Marc's.

“You content with imagining it or do you want a demonstration?”

Marco arched an eyebrow, enjoying Marc's challenging tone and squared jaw, but not as much as Marc's reaction to the look Marco gave him. There was clear arousal in Marc's eyes now and Marco reveled in it.

“I have a car outside and an apartment not far from here.”

Marc flashed him that wonderfully cocky grin of his. “Deal.”

Marco took a moment to check his phone when Marc turned to talk to his friends. A quick message ensured that his friends knew he was leaving and not to wait up. Marco smiled to himself as he heard Marc explain that he would “take a hike”.

“Marc, are you sure that’s—”

“Gotta live a little, Alex,” Marc said happily and slapped the man on his back before walking over to Marco. “Good to go?”

“If you are?” Marco said but started walking through the crowd around them without waiting for a reply. Marc easily kept up with his pace, as Marco had suspected he would.

“Don’t mind Alex, he’s just being an overprotective little brother.”

Marco nodded, not having much experience with that but understanding it anyway. “Maybe he’s right to worry a little, considering the things I have in mind for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Marc smirked just as they exited the club, the fresh summer air a blessing compared to the scorching heat of the club. Marco breathed a deep sigh of relief. “What are you planning anyway? You seem pretty vanilla to me.”

Marco smiled at the playful insult. “And yet you came with me.”

“Hey,” Marc said, voice suddenly low and seductive. “You’re like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, I don’t care what you wanna do, I’m in.”

Not that Marco was really planning anything more outrageous than rimming Marc until the man cried from the need to have Marco's hard dick inside him, but it was good to know Marc felt inclined to trust him.

“You know my name, but I don’t even know yours,” Marc murmured as they settled into the Italians car, eyes on his lips. “I’m kinda stupid for even getting in this thing with you, huh?”

“My name is Marco Bezzecchi,” Marco said, other hand brushing down Marc's front, catching on the edge of the man’s jeans. “And please don’t call yourself stupid.”

Marc shifted so that they were sitting almost facing each other, Marc's hands working on opening Marco's jacket as he drove.

“That's too long for me to scream when I come,” he said, voice making Marco's body vibrate with desire. “I’m gonna call you Bez.”

“Please do,” Marco answered, voice equally hushed, and nosed closer so that Marc turned his head just as their hands found each other’s hard-ons. “My friends do.”

Marc moaned into their first kiss, low and sweet and all for Marco as the car parked. He swallowed it greedily, pressing closer as Marc pressed the heel of his hand against Marco's dick. Their lips slid together, noses bumping, but Marco was too wound up to keep to sweet kisses for long. Marc seemed just as eager in the way he opened up when Marco licked his lips and Marco pushed in deep, owned Marc in that one gesture and felt a chilled heat pool in his groin.

Marc, for all his physical strength, sagged against Marco, moaning into the kisses and pawing at Marco's dick. Marco's plan was simple in this moment: get Marc hot and bothered so that he would be pliant and willing by the time they got inside.

Too bad his own pleasure was spiking almost dangerously already.

“Fuck you’re good at kissing,” Marc groaned when they pulled apart. “I’m so hard already, god damn.”

“I got hard from watching you ride the bull,” Marco was surprised by his own sincerity but Marc seemed only pleased.

“I could feel your eyes on me the second time,” he murmured. “I liked it.”

Fuck it, Marco would just have to come up with a way for them to get hot and hard again when they arrived. He needed Marc too much right in this moment to show any kind of restraint.

With one tug and a push, he had flipped them so that they were in the back with Marc on his back, Marco comfortable between the man’s strong legs. Legs that had hugged that bull like they wanted to crush it were now around him. Marco's dick jumped in his dress pants and Marc no doubt noticed.

“You like me watching you?” he asked, voice a low rumble and Marc parted his lips, nodding and looking up at Marco with big eyes. “Do you want me to see you in your pleasure, Marc?”

“Fuck,” Marc pressed out, one hand grabbing Marco's arm and the other digging between them to start opening his jeans. “I can’t wait, Bez.”

“You don’t think you’ll make it, is that it?” he asked, rising to help Marc get their dicks out. “Do you want to let some out now?”

“I’m riding you tonight,” Marc shot back, eyes glinting and Marco shuddered with pleasure.

“I’ll remember that, little cowboy.”

Marc opened his mouth to no doubt banter back but instead a deep groan forced itself out when Marco pressed their hard dicks together for the first time. Marco's whole body sagged with pleasure and he pressed his knees harder against the seat, sitting up a little and putting one hand on the back of the seat for support as he took their dicks in his other hand, squeezing them.

Marc arched his back, gasping and grabbing the seat under him as his body shuddered. His dick jumped in Marco's grip, pressing against Marco's and there was really no stopping him now. Yes, he wanted to wait, and no, they didn’t even have lube, but the desire was choking him, and Marc was making all the right sounds as Marco started jacking them. Marc was apparently one of those guys who had a lot of precome because Marco's hand got sticky fast enough to replace the need for lube.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” Marco huffed out, breathless now as the pleasure burned white-hot inside him. “Rim you, prep you, fuck you.”

Marc moaned, legs flexing around Marco. “I’m gonna ride you until you cry,” he pressed out through gritted teeth and Marco felt an unexpected surge of arousal at the challenge. “Gonna ruin you for all other asses.”

Oh sweet Lord, Marco was going to come soon. He had never been this attracted to someone, the way Marc challenged him even while submitting was blowing Marco's mind.

“You’ll never want another dick,” he managed to quip, words clipped, and sped up his hand.

They rocked together in the dim light of the car, the world outside forgotten as they came together, hands grabbing each other and dicks aching, yearning to release. Marco's balls had pulled up, so prepared to shoot all over Marc, and Marc's dick was leaking a continuous stream of precome that Marco craved to taste.

His spine burned with his arousal and he panted hotly, leaning down over Marc again, one hand on the seat beside Marc's head as Marc grabbed his body to pull him even closer.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” Marc grunted, pushing away Marco's hand and wrapping his legs around Marco's hips, bucking up. “Kiss me.”

Marco readily indulged Marc, hips working to grind their hard dicks together and though it was rough with their clothes and zippers in the way, it was the most glorious Marco had ever felt. Marc kissed him as if he were a man parched and Marco cradled Marc's head, one hand on Marc's hip, encouraging his movements.

True to his word, Marc came only moments later, body locking up and a shaky moan escaping his parted lips. Wetness spread between them but far from being tacky, it only spurred Marco on and he came too, a handful of thrusts later.

“Well, that was something,” Marc panted after a moment.

Marco blinked and did his best to pull back but his head was swimming a bit. “It wasn’t what I had planned,” he admitted and couldn’t help but grin down at the mess they had made. It was all over their clothes. Marc of course looked ravishing covered in Marco's come. “But then, the night is young.”

“Definitely,” Marc grinned up at him, cocky as ever. “You aren't getting out of that ride.”

Marco felt a renewed wave of arousal just as the overhead light flashed around them. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he smirked, thinking that for all its faults, the night couldn’t have turned out better in the end.

Marco walked them up to an apartment and then knocked on the door, he turned to Marc and smiled.

“Do you live with someone?” Marc asked, suddenly feeling like maybe this wasn’t the ideal plan.

Marco snickered, taking out a large ring of keys and trinkets from his jacket. He put the key in the lock and then turned to Marc before turning the key.

“No, I’m just scared of walking in on someone robbing my apartment so I knock to make sure they’re gone by the time I go in.”

Marc took a step back, “Are you serious?”

“Nope,” Marco said, opening the door and gesturing for Marc to enter. “It’s just a habit.”

The corners of Marc’s mouth turned up a little, amused, he poked Marco in the ribs as he walked past to show his mild annoyance with the bad joke. Marc chuckled, and then walked past Marco, letting the door stay wide open for some reason.

Marc's first impression of Marco's apartment was that it was well lived in, a loved space. Wherever he looked, there were pieces of personality shining through. It felt memorable, interesting. Full of care.

Marco stood still by the door, closing it behind himself. He took in the warm colors and the decorative knick-knacks that he could see all over. Potted plants kept high and low, posters and art in many styles and varying ages.

"Nice place. Have you lived there long?" Marc asked, pushing his hands down in his pockets just to have something to do with them. The space felt perfect, and Marco felt more perfect each second he spent with him.

"A few years," Marco turned to Marc, scratching his neck, and looked over this own space like he hadn't done that in a while. "It's too much, I know, but-"

"No, no. It's perfect." Marc felt the blush come alive again. "I like it."

Marco looked at him with some sort of surprise, nodding. He looked around again and then back at Marc. The looks changed almost immediately.

He moved closer, a few steps to his side as he placed his hand on Marc's side. His fingers kneading down into the muscle there. Marco cornered him, making him back up until he was pinned to the wall. The pressure made Marc's breath catch in his throat. Marco's grip was light, fingers pressed down. And that was all that was holding him in place.

"Hey," Marco said. He looked good like this, Marc thought. Standing over Marc. The light fixture above them made it look like Marco was wearing a halo.

"Hi," Marc answered, breathy and low. He had to lean his head back to the wall to get a good look at Marco when they stood this close. The closeness also made him in perfect view of the movement of the muscles in Marco's neck and jaw. Constantly moving, like Marco had tension built up that just couldn't escape.

Marco moved his hands, placing them at the back of Marc's head. The moment felt like it could last forever.

He pulled Marco's head down toward himself. Their noses touched for a second before their lips finally made contact.

Marc sighed into it. The softness in which Marc stilled at that let Marco take the lead even further. Marco tasted sour, Marc needed more. The sensation of moving muscles under his hand and a grin against his lips filled Marco's mind with sparks. He quickly wanted more of all of it.

With a light bite, he asked Marc for more. The question was answered by Marc opening his mouth and meeting him halfway, tongues brushing carefully together as Marco pulled Marc even closer, pushing both arms over Marc's shoulders to minimize the room between them.

Marco had gone home with people before. The men had all just been distractions. Something to pass the time and release the stress of his day-to-day life.

Kissing Marc, touching him, felt like something was coming into shape. Like the mass under his hands was clay ready to be molded into something. It felt different, and it made him feel desperate.

"Bedroom?" Marc asked,

"Yeah…"

"No, where is your bedroom?"

"Oh, it's right there-"

Marc took Marco by then hand and pulled Marco after himself, turning when he got close to the door and pulling Marc close for another kiss as he fell with his back against the closed door. Marc met the kiss openmouthed and wanting, his hand going to the doorknob to open the door. He held Marco up with a hand on Marco's lower back, keeping his from falling backward as the door flew open and Marc lead him into the room.

Marc was stronger than Marco had anticipated, which gave him many ideas that he needed to explore.

Marco continued to move backward, Marc guiding him. When the back of his knees his something soft, he allowed himself to fall backward and Marc helped him lay down softly.

He pulled at Marc's shirt hem, annoyed by the extra layers. "Take this off," he said, mumbling his words and lazily flicking the fabric between his fingers.

Marc did as he was told, and the clothing was quickly discarded. Marco did the same, unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it in the same direction as Marc had started throwing his clothes. He started to unzip his pants, stopping only to motion for Marc to do the same.

Marc was quick here too, the jeans falling down to the floor and then a fast two-step out of them. Toes catching the fabric and kicking the jeans to the side.

Marco snorted, pulling his pants down and off, letting them fall to the floor. He motioned for Marc to come closer, a beckoning finger asking him to come here. And once again, Marc did precisely what he was told, in record time.

He crowded Marco, chests pressed against each other as Marc took hold just under the curve of Marco's ass and hoisted him more onto the bed. Then placing himself on top of Marco.

"All good?"

"I'm great," Marco said, feeling his stomach flip as his mind replayed the light manhandling of the movement. So many possibilities, the opportunities were stacking up in neat little piles in his brain.

"Good," Marc said, followed by a kiss. A quick peck, something to sign the deal.

Marco could feel something in his lower belly start to form too early. He bit down, swallowed it, and placed his hands on Marc's shoulders as he hovered over him. He pushed Marc to his side, turning his own body so they were facing each other again. Legs still slightly tangled, feeling each other. The lack of pressure from another body helped, and Marco went in for another kiss.

The kissing got deeper, more rushed. Mouths open, small bursts of breathing against each other's lips to catch their breaths. Marc's hand graced Marco's cheek, moving along the jaw and then down over the side of his neck. Moving from the side and back to his nape, then back to the side in a slow movement.

Marc pulled away, already sounding out of breath. "Hey, so... What do you want?" he asked, his hand still moving over Marco's neck and into his hair. "Tell me what you like."

The touch felt deliberate to the point of almost being too much, too deep of a connection. Marco still leaned into it, acting like he'd been touch starved, and he was ready for a feast.

"Well, you're the bull rider-"

"You want me to ride you?" Marc asked, raising his brow and trying to hide his grin. Marco was still touching him, looking at him like they'd known each other for all their lives, and not like this was something new, not some one-time thing.

"I wouldn't mind that," Marc said, his eyes falling closed for a second as he composed himself. "But after seeing you in the car, I think you'd kill me — that… everything you did was… I don't think I can handle that happening again."

"Want to make another bet?" Marco asked, moving in close.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think that you always cheat when making bets."

"Is that a no?" Marco smirked. "I can show you a good time, I promise."

"Jesus christ, are you always like this?"

"No, you're special," Marco said, smiling. He knew his words sounded insincere, but there was a knot in Marc's throat that scared him. Not of what he said but what he wanted it to mean.

Marc leaned in, closing the short distance between them with another kiss. He positioned his body more on top of Marco, pressing him down into the mattress by his shoulders as he slowly made his way to fully straddling Marco. He could feel Marco half hard against his ass.

He pulled away from Marco's lips, his mouth gracing over Marco's chin and down his neck — making small stops to peck more kisses as he went. He found pleasure in this, feeling Marco's breath catch under him, the heat and taste of Marco's skin against him. It felt nice, felt needed.

His hands squeezed Marco's shoulders before moving down to feel along Marco's sides, feeling and pressing his fingers down into the mass under himself to make it known that he was there.

Marco's breathing was coming out in heavy bursts. Hitching and catching. Marc wanted him to talk, say something. Make a sound, something to tell Marc how he was feeling.

Marc liked the sound of him, reveled in it.

"This ok?" Marc asked. "You're quiet."

Marco shuddered, letting out a gasp. "I'm just — this is good, it's good," Marco said, looking down at Marc. His lashes looked so dark like that. Heavy and thick, eyes studying.

"Yeah?"

"Stop that," Marco laughed, pressing Marc's face down into his chest so that Marc couldn't look at him. "You fucking know it's good."

Marc didn't try to move against Marco's hand laying on his head. It wasn't holding him down, more holding him in place. There was no force, just the weight of Marco's hand. He grinned into Marco's skin, then continued his way down, down, down when he felt that Marco wasn’t going to hold him.

Marco's hand was still placed on his head as he moved, and he didn't do anything until Marc reached Marco's lower stomach. His fingers tangled up in Marc's hair and pulled, stopping him from moving.

"Give me a second," Marco said, so close to begging Marc wanted to tease the rest out immediately. "I just need to collect myself. Just one... One second."

With how Marc's head was placed, he still couldn't see Marco's face. The sound of his voice was thick, heavy and a bit slurred. Marc could feel Marco's pulse through his skin, feel the quickness of his breath.

"That's fine," Marc said, moving his hands below Marco's hipbones and holding on with a firm grip. "I can wait."

"Fuck, Marc," Marco said. "How are you so good at this."

"Practice makes perfect, right?"

"God fucking damn it, ok… ok," Marco pulled his hand back, his grip moving from Marc's hair to the sheets. "Ok, do your worst. I'm ready."

"Worst?" Marc asked, smiling up at Marco again, their eyes meeting. Marco looked flushed, his pupils blown and his bottom lip wet and marked. Marc wondered for a second if he was the one that had left the marks on there or if it was Marco biting down. Either way, Marc really liked the way it looked.

"Best, whatever," Marco huffed and then threw his arm over his eyes.

"I always do my best," Marc said like it was stupid of Marco to assume anything else.

Marc's fingers moved under the elastic of Marco's boxers, pulling them down as he laid another kiss just below Marco's belly button. He then sat up, seated on his knees between Marco's legs. He looked at Marco lying there in front of him — bare, needy. Skin pink and shiny, a blotchy blush over his chest and neck.

Marc's eyes moved further down, placing over chest hair that became a light sprinkling over a softer middle, which then became thicker as it went below his belly button. His eyes glanced lower, admiring his view as his eyes settled on Marco's dick.

"Can I touch you?"

"You've been touching me."

"Ha ha, can I touch your dick, you dick?" Marc pressed his thumbs into the soft skin by Marco's hipbones - making sure that Marco knew he was there. Desperate to leave a trace.

"Please don't be funny right now. I’m already so turned on I’m scared to become a heart attack statistic.”

Marc laughed, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes, for fucks sake, touch me, please."

The room felt like it was filled with sparkling electricity as Marc bent down again, kissing from his last spot under Marco's belly button and continuing lower. He could hear Marco breathing heavily, his breaths falling into a steady, recognizable rhythm. Marc stopped, smiling against Marco's skin.

"Are you Lamaze breathing?" Marc asked between kisses, placing a last one at the base of Marco's dick. Marco let out a light groan.

"Yeah, I'm pacing myself." He sounded out of breath, flustered.

"You're so weird."

"You're such a tease."

"And you're so easy," Marc said, smiling up at Marco. "If you don't enjoy it, you can just tell me to stop."

Marco shook his head, "No, no, fuck no. I enjoy it.”

Marc crawled back up on Marco, placing himself so that they were face to face. Marco starred at him. Marc wasn’t sure what Marco could see, he was so close he was sure it would be blury, especially in the dimly lit bedroom they'd found themselves in.

“Hola,” Marc said, floating over Marco. His hands were placed on each side of Marco's head, keeping him up yet so very close.

“Ciao,” Marco said back, smiling. Marc sat back up, straddling Marco's middle. He reached for the curls covering his face and pulled them back, gently. “Thank you.”

“You need to see this part,” Marc said, leaning back to settle himself better over Marco's hips.

He started to move his hips softly, feeling Marco's dick press against the cleft of his ass. The fabric of his boxers was the only thing between them. Marco hissed, letting out small noises as Marc adjusted.

"What you do is, you follow the motion of the bull with your hips," Marc said, lifting himself up and then moving over Marco's crotch again with an easy flow in his hip. "The trick is to find the motion the bull is giving you, feel it with your hips, and then let it all move through your spine. You don't fight it."

"Inter- ah! -esting," Marco said through gritted teeth, a low moan splitting the word up. Marc smiled.

"I've been told I'm a great teacher." Marc didn't stop moving, grinding down smoothly over Marco and feeling his squirm.

"Cazzo, you're killing me," Marco said, voice pleading.

"Listen," Marc said, giving Marco a light slap on his cheek so he'd focus. "Just look at me, see what I'm doing?"

"Yeah," Marco said, voice breathy and low.

"I want you to do this for me, ok?"

Marco blinked, looking confused. "I thought we'd already established that I'm stiff as hell."

Marco looked down at Marc, "yeah, I can feel your dick against my ass. I know."

"I meant the riding."

Marc chuckled, ”I know, the bet is that I can teach you ride the bull.” Marc pressed down harder, making Marco tilt his head back as a hollow sound left his throat. "and, as I said, I've been told I'm a great teacher."

Marco took a deep breath, grabbing Marc by the hips and rolling them over. Marc felt like the heat was radiating from him when his back hit the sheets. Marco was on his knees between Marc's thighs, he kissed Marc once before leaning back on his heels and clicked his tongue.

"Well, let’s see what you can teach me, teach.”

Marc reached for the bottle of lube and slicked himself up by giving himself a few strokes as Marco positioned himself. Positioned over Marc, he leaned slightly forward — aligning himself with Marc's dick and then slowly pushing down.

Marc gasped, mouth falling open at the feeling. The slow movement up and down as Marco took more and more of him was excruciatingly hot. When Marco bottomed out, he stilled. Looking at Marc with heavy eyes and wetted his lips as he was getting used to the feeling. He looked amazing like that.

Marco adjusted, making Marc catch a moan in his throat.

"You good?" he asked, placing one of his hands on Marc's chest and the other on Marc's hip — finding his balance.

"Si," Marc said. "You can move."

Marco did as he was told, lifting himself up and then slow down again. Marco watched him closely, his hands on Marc's hips to help his movement, not for control.

"Fuck," Marc said under his breath, sounding like a whine.

Marc bit down on his bottom lip, his fingers digging into the meat on Marco's hip as he thrust up at the same time Marco came down. It made Marco let out a surprised moan, his rhythm halting. Marc thrust up again, deep and hard, his hands on Marco's hips helping him find the pace again.

"Is it- fuck… Is it good?” Marco asked, moving again. He was stiff in his movement, not to the point of making any of it less enjoyable, but Marc was trying to make a point.

"It’s good, it’s so - Marco, Bez," Marc said, moving his hands down Marco's thighs and feeling the muscle work. "Remember what I said, just feel it and follow. Just – Fuck!" Marc threw his head back as Marco, again, did just as he was told, finding the flow with Marc's thrust and met him seamlessly in the movement. Moving in a wavelike pattern, his hips loosening straight away.

Marc felt tension pooling in his lower stomach, a coil heating up lower down. His grip on Marco's thighs tightened, begging Marco to go faster. Marco was making all kinds of sounds, low moans that grew to almost a shout. Marc wanted to taste the sounds he was making.

He tried to speed up even more, desperate to hear what else would come out.

"You look so good. You look amazing," Marco groaned, feeling sweat run from his forehead and down his temple. "Fuck Bez, you sound amazing." Marc gripped Marco by the hip again, feeling up his sides. “Just like that, exactly like that. You’re doing so good.”

Marco smiled, not slowing his movement. "You like this?" he asked, more a question than a tease. Marc thrust up harder, hitting Marco deeper, and he fell forward. Gasping and whining.

"Oh god, I'm so fucking close-" Marco said, digging his face deeper into Marc's chest. His fingers on the hand that used to steady him pressed down into Marc's sternum and left marks. Marc didn't stop, the angle was weird, but it seemed to get the job done just fine. Marco's face still buried in his chest, mumbling nonsense and breathing hard.

The coil in Marc's lower belly was tensing up even more, he was close.

In the heat of the moment, he rolled them around. Changing positions so that he was on top and Marc fell on his back. He gasped, sounding like he was choking on air. Looking flushed all over, his eyes were almost entirely black and his curls ended up littered around, framing his face. Marc reached out and fixed them, wanting Marco to see, and then leaning down to kiss him as he started to move at a quick pace again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Marco said, his hands gripping into the sheets for leverage. "Touch me. Please, touch me."

One of Marco's hands grabbed Marc's, moving it over himself between them. Marc followed without question, placing his hand on Marco's dick and giving him slowly paced strokes. Marco's bottom lip quivered, his mouth open and a guttural sound came out. After a few more strokes, Marco started to cum roped between them. His body tensed, contracting on Marc as he tried to keep his pace going.

"You feel so fucking good, Holy-" With what he was seeing, sensing, smelling, Marc came. His eyes slammed shut as the orgasm took over. When he came to, he felt light and boneless, lying chest to chest with Marco. Both still breathing heavily, both sweaty and sticky.

After a moment, Marco cleared his throat, "Thank you for showing me the proper technique for doing that, I…." He laughed. "No, I can't even make up a joke right now. That was amazing. fucking hell."

"Yeah," Marc said, feeling like he was made of cloud. Marc Cumulus. Don't mind the double entendre.

They lied in silence for a few minutes after that, Marc realizing he was still inside Marco much later than was probably acceptable. He slowly pulled out, both of them hissing at the sensation.

"Sorry," Marc said, rolling off Marco and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I think I lost most of my brain cells when I came, that was... Fuck, that was perfect.” He looked over at Marco, eyeing the shape of him. The size and the curve. He never wanted to stop looking, really wished he would be able to never stop.

Marco pulled the sheet up over his chest, followed by Marc quickly pulling it down again. Like they are playing a game. Marco smiled softly and with a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed shy now. Like looking at Marc was too much, but he couldn't make himself stop.

"Alright," Marco pulled the sheets up again, covering his chest up to his collarbones.

"That was good," Marc said, again. "Thank you."

Marco let out a full-body laugh, curving inward on the bed as he rolled over on his side towards Marc. He gave Marco a slow kiss on the cheek, and Marco wanted to follow him when he pulled away.

"Well, you’re welcome."

"Thanks," Marco said again, mortified by the sound of his own voice.

Marco felt hot all over still, not in the same way as earlier but like a teakettle ready to start whistling. The light of the outside streetlight showered Marc's face in a soft yellow. It felt like a sign. Marco had just not realized what for yet.

"All my pleasure, Bez." Marc said, rubbing the sheet over his belly. Really ruining them.

"No, don't say it like that!" Marco laughed, picking up the pillow from under his head and hitting Marc over the side of his face. "Don't be gross."

"I think you like a little gross," Marc said. "I think you're a little freak that's just waiting to get out."

Marco hit him with the pillow again, "Shut up!"

His laugh traveled from the middle of his chest, up and out in the open air of the bedroom. It ended in a smile, easy and genuine. Marc couldn't remember when he laughed like this last.

Marc waved his hands over his head in retreat, laying the pillow down, and then rolled over on his side, face to face with Marco.

"I'm not a freak."

"I know," Marc said. "Just a little bit weird and a lot of bossy."

Marco felt himself blush, "Bossy?"

"Great quality, as I love to be told what to do."

Marco narrowed his eyes on Marc, shaking his head slightly. "You don't seem like someone who does what others tell you."

"Oh, no. I'm not. I just like to be told to do stuff. It's different than actually doing what I'm told."

Marco laughed again, pressing Marc's face away from him with a playfulness he didn’t know he had in himself. The night was dark and quiet. Marco could lie like this forever. But he remembered what it was, a quick hook up after some quick flirting in a bar.

The feeling of bliss didn’t leave him though, and Marc didn’t stop smiling at him.

"So," Marc started, turning his head and staring up onto the ceiling. "Can I call you sometime?"

Marco looked at Marc's side profile. The downturn of his nose, the double curve of his lips. He wanted to thank Marc's parents for their excellent work. They really did a great job with the gene composition. They should get a prize, some kind of award for their work.

"Sure," Marco said. "You could do that."

"Nice, ok," Marc cleared his throat, still saying straight up. "And if I asked you out to dinner tomorrow, would that be ok too?"

Marco felt something flip in him, a flutter. "That would be ok."

"Great."

Marc laughed, followed by Marco laughing too.

"Good cause if this had been a one-time thing, I think I'd have to go celibate," Marc said, rubbing his hands over his face. "Don't think anyone else can live up to that. Ever."

"Stop flattering me. I already said yes to dinner." Marco laughed, poking Marc in the ribs.

"Hey, stop," He said, laughing too. "Maybe I'm flattering you for a second round?"

Marco let out a tired sigh, pressing his face into the middle of Marc's chest. Creating a burrow for himself to sleep. "Absolutely, I just need a nap first," He said. "Maybe a glass of water or a snack."

"I can accept all those things,” Marc said, his fingers moving through Marco's curls. “All those things are acceptable to me."

"Good, wake me up in like 45 minutes, ok?"

"Fine, yeah," Marc said, his fingers continuing to move through Marco's hair. "I'll do that."

#idk.#this will probably become a series #kats motogp blurbs!#marcmarc #bezquez #marco bezzecchi #marc marquez #mm93 #mb72 #vr46 #vr46 riders academy #vr46 academy #smut #rpf #fanfic #ao3 #mlm #im not really sure what this is tbh #this is for u sage!!!!

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babecoups · 2 years ago

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rodeo || johnny suh

⇝ title: Rodeo ⇝ pairing: rapper!johnny x manager!reader ⇝ genre: coworkers with benefits sort of | secret relationship | smut ⇝ summary: After Johnny sees you showing off on one of the set’s mechanical bulls, he can’t help but pull you into his trailer and put your riding skills to the test. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 2.1k ⇝ warnings: unedited (i’m so sorry) | strong language | johnny wears a grill… warning you now | cowgirl duh | reverse cowgirl because we lit | rope play (not really sexual) | spanking/ass grabbing | them chains are staying on girlfriend | dom but bottom!johnny (like she’s fucking him) | spitting/spit play (sorry not sorry) | pet names | scratching | protected sex | gagging/choking on fingers | controlled orgasm | light obedience play | cum shots | the cheesy ending we all deserve | i think that’s all... enjoy!! ⇝ author’s note: Happy Birthday to my sis Beezy @hobeemin !! I love you and I wanted to write you something for your birthday. I did not expect it to get this filthy because I just cannot write Johnny in this way but the minute I thought about this look… I knew it was the one. Anyway, I hope you like it! I wrote it with love.

⇝ playlist: Rodeo by Juvenile | Handstand by French Montana, Doja Cat, & Saweetie | Distraction by Kehlani

masterlist | join my permanent tag list? | mail box | read on ao3 | banner credits

“She is so going to fall. How many seconds are you giving her?”

Johnny leans against the railing, glancing at your assistant as he ponders in his thoughts.

“I give her about two seconds.”

“Bullshit. Both of you are going to be buying me lunch when this is over,” you chime in.

The two men share a laugh, and the rest of the staff join in as they prepare to watch you fail. Your eyes shift to Johnny when the lights reflect off the diamond-encrusted plate temporarily attached to his front bottom row of teeth. His tongue rolls over his top lip before he bites his lip absentmindedly, watching you as attentively as you are him. It’s a distraction you cannot indulge in due to the multiple people around you and the sudden jerk your body feels when the bull begins to move.

“Thirty seconds, motherfuckers! Pay attention.”

Your thighs clench, and you put on your game face, letting the snickers and side comments travel through your ears and disappear into the air. Your dominant hand holds on with all its strength while your other hand extends outward. You’re devoted to staying balanced because that’s going to be the key to lasting the entire time.

“Look at her only using one hand,” your assistant comments.

“That’s all I need.”

You hear Johnny fake a cough after your reply, and you squint your eyes at him just before the bull begins to spin. The ride starts to get rough quickly but you hang in there. Thirty seconds feel like hours when you’re being tossed around. Once you have a strong grip and a feel of what the bull can do, you’re about fifteen seconds in and ready to knock them out.

For show, you arch your back and smile at the people filming on their phones. The teasing is replaced with praises as everyone starts cheering you on. Everyone except one, who’s looking on with an unreadable expression.

Suddenly, the ride switches gears, and you almost slip off. You struggle as you’re leaning toward one side, and you almost allow yourself to fall, forfeiting the last few seconds before a voice sways your decision.

“Keep going, baby girl.”

You don’t even need to look to know who it belongs to. A switch flips on, and you regain control. The countdown begins, and your burning muscles work overtime to keep you on the bull. When time’s up, you make a victorious but not-so-graceful landing.

You lie there relishing in the cheers, but when your eyes open, you only want to see one person’s smile. However, he’s nowhere in sight. You get and dust yourself off before climbing out of the ring, receiving nothing but high-fives as you descend the stairs.

“Let’s go celebrate girl! You did that shit,” someone calls out.

You agree, but only to get them off your back while you seek out the man you’ve been waiting to talk to all day. “Yeah, I’m just going to go grab my stuff, and I’ll be back.”

It’s partly the truth.

You will be back, but your purse is in the sprinter, on the other side of the set.

Still, you make your way past several trailers, looking for the one belonging to the star of the music video. Unfortunately, every trailer looks the same, and you can only pinpoint a general area of where he is.

As you peek into one trailer’s window, the door to the one behind you opens. When you turn around, you see Johnny standing on the threshold, wearing one of his signature smirks.

“Looking for someone?” he questions.

“Maybe.”

Johnny nods, his cowboy hat still covering his dark eyes. He’s probably waiting for the stylists to undress him since there’s one more shoot tomorrow, but since you’re here, you might be able to help with that.

“I see you don’t have time for me today. But it’s cool.”

You roll your eyes. He knows he can’t let himself get jealous; it’s too risky.

The first time was supposed to be the last time, but a year later you still can’t keep your hands off each other. The industry isn’t kind to artists who sleep with their managers. No one wants to work with them out of fear of messy situations. The things you do to each other must remain a secret if you want it all to last. However, some days are more difficult than others.

“Whatever. I’m going to lunch,” you sigh. “Do you want anything?”

You start walking away before he responds, and once you’re about three feet away, something flies over your head and you feel it tighten around your midsection.

“What the–”

You look down and notice that you’re caught up in a rope. Before you can ask any questions, you’re pulled back until you run into something, or someone.

“You aren’t the only one who’s learned some tricks.”

Johnny spins you around, making you face him.

“Don’t be like that. You know I like teasing you,” he reasons, but you don’t want to hear it.

He knows you’re sensitive about this stuff, seeing many of your colleagues' reputations ruined for the same thing you’re doing with him.

“It’s not funny, though.”

Noticing the small pout on your lips, Johnny gives the rope enough slack for it to fall and he pulls you in for a hug. His chin rests on your forehead, keeping an eye out for anyone and listening carefully for footsteps.

“You’re so worrisome,” he sighs, caressing your back. “I was just trying to have a little fun with you.”

“Fuck off,” you murmur into his jacket.

Your cheek presses against his bare pecs, and you find comfort in the warmth of his sun-kissed skin.

“Woah. You’re so mean. I just figured since you liked riding that bull so much, maybe you’d want to go for a real ride.”

Your head lifts and moves away from his chest so you can look at him. “What?”

“Oh, now I have your attention, hm?”

His smirk grows into a smile and reveals his mouthpiece. It shines even brighter when he takes off his hat and places it on your head. Johnny gestures towards his trailer and winks at you.

“Let’s get it, cowgirl.”

Seated on Johnny’s lap, your hand grasps the gold links around his neck while you grind against him. Both of you panting and sweating, the world doesn’t even exist at this moment.

“So good for me,” he growls. “How am I supposed to leave you alone?”

His nails dig into your flesh as he holds your globes within his grasp, wanting to be as close to you as he physically can.

“You don’t. Problem solved.”

You start to move more swiftly, feeling a familiar sensation creeping inside your gut. Johnny’s dick enters your womb each time you land on his hips, leaving you gasping and moaning louder than you should be.

“Yeah? So that means you’re mine, right?”

“Fuck. Johnny.”

The way his lips curl into a grin when you cry his name leaves you shivering and begging him.

For what, is unclear to you, but all you know is that you want him badly.

“Yeah, you’re mine,” he states confidently. “Open your mouth.”

He’s right about that. You are.

Whatever he wants, he gets it—because he never holds back when pleasing you.

Your lips part enough for you to stick out your tongue. He wastes no time shoving his fingers deep inside and spitting into your crevice. Two of his digits push his saliva deep into your throat, making you gag around them. You stare at him through your watery eyes, your damp lashes, and fresh tears blurring your vision. However, you can still make out the pleased expression on his face.

You purposely clench around him, and his hips buck off the couch. Johnny then grabs your waist, halting your movements while he speaks.

“I see how you wanna play. Turn around.” You lift yourself slightly, keeping him inside while you turn in the opposite direction. As you find the right position, Johnny slaps your ass, making you squeak in surprise. He kneads the flesh tenderly, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze of appreciation. “Let’s see how long you can stay on this ride.”

As soon as you start to ride his cock, Johnny begins to thrust into you, nearly bouncing you off of his lap. His toned thighs make it difficult for you to control the pace, but with a hand holding onto his leg, you’re saved from falling on the floor.

Once you’ve gotten accustomed to the way he’s slamming into you, you’re able to regain control. You arch your back and place your free hand on top of his hat sitting on your head. The sounds that begin to leave your lips become feral, and you can hear Johnny’s grunts turn into moans and gasps. He’s close, and so are you. You decide to make the last seconds count.

“You feel so good,” you purr. “Do I feel good, Johnny?”

He throws back his head and whispers a few expletives.

“You feel like heaven, baby. You already know.”

You whimper in response, his deep voice soothing to your ears.

“So wet, so tight. You know how much I love this pussy.”

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? Need to come?” he quizzes.

“Can I? Please.”

Your raspy cries fill the room just like the lewd noises produced by your arousal squelching between your thighs. Johnny ceases his movements and allows you to chase your own release while he watches in awe. He holds your waist to support you and guide you because your body is moving faster than your mind can keep up with.

“Get you one, cowgirl. You deserve it.”

When those words leave his lips, your sense of reality disappears. Everything grows white, and you have no control over your body. Your orgasm takes your breath away, leaving you struggling to catch your breath. A shockwave ripples through you, and the sensation is intoxicating.

You can hear Johnny’s groans as he tries to hold on, but the warm feeling of your walls pulsing around his cock is almost unbearable. His cock twitches inside of you as you ride out your high, but he hangs on until you’re flopping forward on your face.

Johnny quickly gets up, and removes the condom, so he can shoot his load all over your ass. Hot ropes of his cum paint your skin, but you’re too out of it to complain about being sticky.

“Are you okay, baby?”

You sigh. “I am.”

“Alright, well you should probably–”

Johnny's phone rings, and he walks across the room to check it. He answers it and puts it on speaker, so you assume it’s important.

“Yeah?”

Fuck. It’s your assistant looking for you.

“She’s in my trailer,” Johnny explains.

You immediately sit up and look at him with wide eyes. Why would he say that?

“She’s embarrassed because she got sick from that bull ride. You’ll have to take lunch without her.”

You exhale and relax your body, sinking into the couch.

“That was too close,” you whisper.

Johnny throws you a wink, and you respond with a small smile. They’d probably have a million questions had he not thought of that response so quickly.

“Yeah, she’s going to get back to the hotel in the sprinter with me, but I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

When the call ends, Johnny joins you on the couch. He wipes the cum off of your skin and tosses the shirt on the floor before he speaks.

“So,” he begins. You turn so you can see his face. “We have the rest of the day together. What are we doing?”

You shrug.

“I don’t know. Maybe we can…”

You grab his arm and pull him on top of you. Your lips graze his ear, and he shudders.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

Smirking, your fingers dance up his biceps.

“Maybe we can take a nap?”

“Now, that’s hot.”

“I know, right?” you giggle.

When silence takes over, you play in Johnny’s hair as he hums.

“You think they’ll notice if that hat goes missing?”

His question makes you roll your eyes.

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” you respond. “But, no. They have several because they know how you are.”

You return to twirling his strands between your fingers, enjoying the post-orgasm quality time until he ruins it once again.

“Good. I wonder if it’ll stay on while I’m fucking you from the back.”

Honestly, as long as he shows you what other trick he’s learned with that rope, he can do anything he wants with you.

#johnny smut #johnny x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct fanfics #johnny fanfics #thekpopuniverse #kvanity #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh smut #fic: rodeo #fromthebabe

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theplottdump · 5 months ago

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𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵. That was the best word to describe the night the Angels had just had.

A metaphorical mechanical bull throwing the Agents back and forth.

For Kate it had been a harrowing reminder of why she kept herself so guarded. Poor Vera had finally taken one step forward, but unknowingly kicked herself two steps back. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘺-

After spending the evening riding high and doing a ton of cool shit, the crashing realization finally made impact as she descended the stairs into the warm night air. She had no one to talk to about it.

The Angels were great of course, but there would always be the empty spot that used to hold the person she instinctively wanted to turn to. To overshare every little detail. But he was gone. Abandoned her best friend. Who she ran off just like everyone else.

𝗣𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲.

Poppy: 𝙄’𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬. If that’s what you want me to tell you.

Chad: I know.

Chad: You said a lot of things I needed to hear.

But I came to say goodbye- would you sit with me for a minute?

Chad: Val- Poppy: Oh! Valerian This. Vexus That. Everything always has to be about Valerian doesn’t it!? 𝙄’𝙢 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩!

I asked you to try not to shoot him, not to fall in love with him!

Chad: You don’t know him Poppy. Poppy: Well lately I feel like I don’t exactly know you either.

Chad: Poppy what’s it like being an Active Sim? Poppy: It’s alright I guess.

Poppy: Lots of expectations and drama, some skilling. You’ll pass out and pee yourself more often.

Poppy: 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥.

Poppy: Every time you come into contact with my brother someone always gets the short end of the stick.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝗲.

Poppy: The last piece of the puzzle. You want know what it is?

Poppy: 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭��. I've never needed you.

Liar.

#oof here we go #thank you for coming along with me on this big bar scene #time to close it out #plott gen 6 #gen6Angels #Poppy Plott #chad chinsley #long post

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 months ago

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Mechanical Bulls and Prom Dates

AO3

Summary:

While the boys in their friend group debate who could last the longer on a mechanical bull, Annabeth and Piper make a bet of their own about getting each other a date to the prom.

There are days where Annabeth wishes she knew Percy Jackson sooner. They had met in the fifth grade when Annabeth transferred schools. Which means she remembers the three years he had braces and constantly got gum stuck in the wires and he knew her before she learned to tame her blonde curls and mostly hid her hair inside beanies.

She spent so much of her middle school years at Percy’s apartment, watching cookies bake and doing homework at the kitchen table. Sally sometimes braided Annabeth’s hair in the summer before they went to the community pool. They were as close as two people could be.

But on days like today, Annabeth half-wishes she never knew him at all.

She catches him hunching over her favorite table in their high school library. It’s situated in the corner by the only working window which lets in a wonderful breeze on spring days like today. Percy’s sitting with some of their other friends: Jason, Leo, and Grover.

One might think the four boys are in deep discussion about something important—like the science fair project Annabeth is planning on working on during her free period—but no, Annabeth knows better.

“Listen, I could easily last 30 seconds,” Leo is saying, always the one to go for the long shot.

Despite their antics, Annabeth is actually glad to know them. Not that she’s ever admitted it to their faces. At the very least, they keep her life interesting.

Annabeth leans over Grover’s shoulder and sees a crude drawing of what she assumes is a mechanical bull. Grover has the heart of an artist but not the skill.

“Don’t tell me this is your idea of a science fair project?” She asks.

The boys all jump except her best friend; Percy is grinning at her. That troublemaker smirk that makes her want to hit him before he even replies with a smartass remark.

“If you must know,” Leo tells her, “we’re taking bets.”

Without thinking, she asks, “On what?”

“How long we could each last on a mechanical bull ride,” Jason says.

“Except there’s no winning because we’ll never be able to ride one,” Grover adds, though he doesn’t sound saddened by this fact.

Annabeth is calmly laying out her notebook and colored pencils to begin her own sketch for her science fair project as the boys continue arguing over who’d last longer and how they could test their theories with a mechanical bull.

Leo is in the middle of regaling about how he could build one when Annabeth decides to interject. Never one to hold back on shock value, Annabeth simply says, “there’s a bar on Clover Street that has one,” which causes Jason and Leo to whip their heads over to her.

She ignores them. Mostly because she doesn’t want to divulge her favorite spot in town—a combination book store and bar. It just happens to be within walking distance of said bar with the bull. Aptly named Mino-bar, a play on words of minotaur.

Annabeth has walked past it many times on her way to Boozy Books. She could fully escape there if she needed to as it was the only place in town where no one knew where to find her, except Thalia.

“So we settle up our bets and wait til we turn 21,” Jason says.

“Thalia can get you fakes,” Annabeth comments without looking up from her notebook.

Once again shocking the boys.

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised, especially you Jason, didn’t Thalia offer to get you fake ids?”

“Um no!” Grover exclaims, “but she clearly got you one.”

Annabeth shrugs. Unwilling to admit to her trips to Boozy Books. It isn’t like she really used the fake id to get alcohol that much.

The volume of their arguing was getting louder.

“Alright losers, you need to quiet down before we all get kicked out of here,” Annabeth says, “I have a half hour left to get started on this project and I intend to do just that.”

To their credit, the boys do settle down. Grover even joins Annabeth and pulls out some homework to complete.

By lunch the following day, Annabeth is hopeful that the mechanical bull bets have been forgotten but as she approaches their normal table Jason and Leo are deep in conversation about it.

“Thalia said she’d get us fakes but it’ll take some time,” Jason is telling him.

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

Finally, Piper sits down across from Annabeth.

“Did you get number 24 on the calc homework?” She asks, immediately digging through her back bag for the worksheet.

With Piper there, she is able to tune out the boys until of course the calc homework is put away, their lunches are just empty wrappers, and Piper finally engages the rest of their table in conversation by asking what on earth they spent the last twenty minutes arguing about.

“Mechanical bulls!” Leo and Percy exclaim.

Why, oh, why did Annabeth continue to put up with this?

“Right.” Piper raises her eyebrows at Annabeth, who sighs in response.

Jason goes onto explain the betting and fake id issue.

“Why didn’t you just ask your sister?” Piper says, “she got Annabeth and I fakes forever ago.”

By forever ago, Piper meant Freshman year. Though, Annabeth hasn’t really used it until this past summer. Unless the three girls are trying to sneak in to see a band.

“Et tu Brute!” Grover yells, “everyone but us got fakes.”

“What would you even use a fake for?” Percy asks him.

Grover mumbles, “I don’t know but it might come in handy.”

Annabeth tries to cover her laughter with a cough but once Piper snorts, she couldn’t help but join her friends. They sober up when the bell rings.

“C’mon Chase,” Piper says, lopping their arms together, “onto calculus we go.”

“How goes the plan to ask Jason to senior prom?” Annabeth asks.

Her face reddens.

“Shove it.”

Annabeth smirks as they walk into the classroom. Only after Piper has gotten her textbook, calculator, and notebook out, does she look at Annabeth sitting at the desk next to her.

“I want him to ask me,” she admits, not for the first time, “but I know he won’t. He’s too unsure of himself even when I’ve been pretty obvious with my feelings.”

To be fair to Piper, she has made it obvious. She flirts openly with Jason, she has gotten more physically affectionate with him—hugging him at any opportunity, and offered to partner up with him for this history presentation.

“What about you? Anyone in particular you want to take to prom?” Piper bats her eyelashes because she knows exactly who Annabeth wanted to go with.

Annabeth has spent the last 5 years crushing on her best friend. The last year of that she came to realize it was definitely more than a simple crush. She is half in love with him.

How could she not be?

Percy was so sweet and had always been there for her. They had sleepovers, spent weekends together, and tried their best to match their class schedules. He invited her to swim meets and came to all her debates. She loved his parents and little sister like they were her family. Percy bonded with her brothers and made polite conversations with her dad and stepmom. Their lives were so intertwined and had been since they met.

He made her so happy sometimes, Annabeth felt like she would burst.

“Now you can shove it,” Annabeth says.

Piper was going to continue her teasing but their teacher started talking, saving Annabeth for the time being.

Normally, Percy drives her home after school but he has extra swim practice this week because of some big tournament coming up, which meant Piper and Annabeth carpooled.

“Wanna come over?” She asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Only if we can get coffee first.”

“Read my mind, Chase, read my mind.”

Their favorite coffee shop is pretty quiet today so the two girls just decided to sit and do their homework there. About an hour into it, Piper abruptly closes her calc textbook and stares at her friend until Annabeth takes out her headphones, “what?”

“Percy Jackson,” Piper says, “just ask him to prom.”

“Jason Grace,” Annabeth counters, “just ask him to prom.”

“Nice try, don’t flip the script on me. You’ve been crushing hard lately.”

“Oh and you haven’t?”

“I’m trying to get him to ask me, you my friend aren’t even trying.”

Annabeth sighs, “Percy is my best friend.”

“And he’s also in love with you but whatever,” Piper says, quietly, “you just don’t see the way he looks at you.”

She had heard this before from Piper. But if that were true why hadn’t Percy made a move to ask her out? Nothing about their relationship had changed.

“I’ve been noticing since we were freshman,” Piper continues, “I swear you’re just blind to it because you’ve known him so long. He’s probably been looking at you like this for years and you just needed me to point it out.”

“Fine,” Annabeth replies, “let’s make a bet.”

“Oh? What kind of bet?”

“Let’s see which one of us can get a prom date for the other first. I’ll handle Jason, you handle Percy.”

Since Piper is so confident that Percy returns Annabeth’s feelings, it should be easy for her. Annabeth considers herself to be pretty persuasive and knows Jason just needed a nudge in the right direction to finally ask Piper.

“And the winner gets?” Piper inquires.

“Bragging rights for one, a date to prom, and…”

“And the loser has to ride the mechanical bull when the boys go.”

Annabeth sticks her hand out across the table for Piper to shake.

“You’re on, McLean.”

Annabeth spends the next two days plotting. It has been a while since Piper and her had this intense of a bet going and frankly Annabeth wants to win.

After all, she had won the last two times. Typically their bets were about the love lives of other people.

The first being how long it would take their mutual friends Frank and Hazel to start dating. Piper had insisted on 3 months, but Annabeth knew how shy the two underclassmen were and said 6. The second, about an impending breakup between Drew and some college guy she’d been seeing.

This time is different. By the end of it, hopefully one of them would have a boyfriend and hopefully it would be Piper.

She knows exactly where to find Jason during their shared free period: in the gym shooting baskets. There are some other students hanging out in the gym. A group of girls playing volleyball.

“Hey, Jase!” Annabeth calls out.

Jason dribbles his basketball and walks over to her.

“Shouldn’t you be studying in the library?”

“Haha, I don’t spend every second studying, Jason.”

Though she had been in the library doing some homework.

He sits down on the bleachers. “So, what’s up?”

“Well, prom is coming up…”

“Let me stop you right there, I’m honored and all but I know someone else who would much rather take you.”

“Look Jason, that’s not what this is,” Annabeth tells him, now curious as to who wanted to ask her to prom, “I wanted to know if there was anyone you were thinking of asking?”

She swears Jason is blushing but maybe he’s just warm from basketball.

“And if I did?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in who you take.”

Jason nods but didn’t say anything more.

Annabeth wants to pull the information from him but the bell rings signaling the end of her free period.

Maybe this isn’t going to be as easy as she first thought. Hopefully, Piper is having similar difficulties.

During lunch, Annabeth hopes to steal a moment with Jason again to ask him but she also doesn’t want to alert Percy. Thankfully, Hazel does most of the work for her. She appears at the table, her lunch tray in one hand and Frank holding the other.

“So…let’s talk prom! I want to know everything since Frank and I won’t be there.”

The juniors had already had their prom just a week ago. Hazel had worn a gorgeous turquoise gown.

“Can I please go dress shopping with you?” She asks.

“Of course,” Piper says, “you’re always invited along. Not sure when we’ll be going yet.”

“It’s still 3 weeks away,” Annabeth adds.

Hazel nods. “Are you planning on asking anyone?” She directs this query at the boys since she already knew who Annabeth and Piper wanted to go with.

“I asked Juniper forever ago,” Grover says, “she’s wearing this lacy green dress.”

“Ooo do you have pics?” Hazel asks.

Grover, of course, does. It’s a beautiful dress, Annabeth has to admit. Juniper is stunning in just jeans, she was going to blow them all away at prom.

“Leo? Jason? Percy? Any plans for prom dates?”

Leo shrugs, “you know me, fighting off the advances.”

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Waiting for the right girl?”

Leo winks. “You know it.”

The right girl happens to be the head cheerleader who never spared Leo a second glance. Annabeth isn’t sure why he’s still vying for her attention.

“I’ve got the right girl, just waiting for the right time,” Jason says.

He’s blushing a little and wouldn’t meet Annabeth’s gaze. She takes that as a good sign. Clearly he does intend to ask Piper. Now all Annabeth has to do was create the right moment.

In the midst of planning Piper’s perfect prom-posal, Annabeth misses part of Percy’s answer.

“…I just don’t know if she’s interested in me.”

Grover pats his shoulder and lovingly says, “you’re an idiot.”

Which causes Leo to burst into laughter to the point of crying, “Grover and I don’t agree often dude so you know we’re right.”

Clearly, Percy has someone he wants to ask too. With the way Piper is beaming at Annabeth, her friend obviously thought the girl was Annabeth.

Of course, it’s then the lunch bell rings. Annabeth finds herself walking to class with Piper at her side still wondering what kind of girl wouldn’t be interested in Percy.

He’s kind beyond belief. He’s extremely loyal, defending his best friends to the death. He’s smart—more street than book sometimes.

“Annabeth,” Piper says, obviously not for the first time. “I asked what you’re thinking about over there.”

“Huh?”

Piper widens her eyes and does a dramatic eye roll with a knowing smirk on her face. She then leans in and whispers, “I’m going to win.”

Friday is Percy’s big swim meet. Their friend group shows up in all shades of blue to support him. They don’t care if it isn’t school colors, Percy knows the blue is just for him. Thalia, of course, shows up in the darkest shade possible. She’s hardly ever seen in bright colors.

Having graduated 2 years ago, seeing Thalia walk these halls is a little weird. Realistically, it wasn’t that long ago that Thalia sat with them at lunch or passed Annabeth in the hallway between fifth and sixth period. But somehow so much has changed.

“Is it me or did the school get smaller?” Thalia says, leading against the wall by the boy’s locker room.

“It’s you,” Leo says.

She glares at him, “it was rhetorical, dummy.”

“Cmon, let’s go in, Jason saved us seats,” Annabeth tells them.

Jason is spread out in the third row of bleachers. Annabeth sits closest to him, Thalia files in next, then Piper, and finally Leo. Grover was supposed to meet them here too but Annabeth can’t spot him. She vaguely remembers during lunch Grover mentioning something about seeing Juniper so maybe he’s inviting her to join them.

“Before I forget,” Thalia says, “here.”

She passes Jason an ID.

“Oh wow, thanks.”

“In public really?” Annabeth chides.

“What? At least it’s not drugs,” Piper teases.

“And mine?” Leo asks.

Thalia stares at him, pointedly. “I feel like you have to earn it.”

“There’s money at stake here, how come I have to earn it?”

“Money?” Thalia questions, “I need to be filled in. A girl misses one weekend hangout and suddenly no one tells her anything.”

“To be fair, they only came up with this on Monday,” Piper says.

“Picture this,” Leo says, “All 7 of us sitting around a bar, sipping beer…”

“I’m not having a beer,” Annabeth cuts in.

“Okay, us boys drinking beer…”

“I don’t want beer either,” Jason says.

“Does one of you want to take over this story?”

Jason and Annabeth share a look.

“We’re betting on who can last the longest on a mechanical bull,” Jason tells his sister.

“Tell you what, I want in on this bet,” Thalia replies, “and I’ll give you this,” she dangles the fake ID in front of Leo’s face, “if our boy Percy places top 3 today.”

Leo looks a little worried but Annabeth doesn’t know why because Percy is definitely going to place top 3.

“Hey everyone!”

“Nothing like being here at the last minute,” Jason says.

Grover shrugs. He’s holding hands with Juniper, which Thalia isn’t about to let slide without commentary.

“Who’s the girl?” She whispers to Annabeth.

“His girlfriend.”

“Thalia!” Grover says, “I didn’t see you there.”

They awkwardly hug in the bleachers.

“This is Juniper,” he introduces, “Juniper, this is Thalia.”

“Hi,” Juniper says, “it’s nice to finally meet you. Grover talks about you a lot.”

“Aw, that’s cute Grover.” Thalia puts a hand over her heart. “I am pretty great so that makes sense.”

Annabeth has no idea if anything more is said because Percy and his team are walking out towards the pool.

He’s in his usual swim uniform in their school colors but Annabeth’s transfixed. He’s always looked good in green. Even if the uniforms did no one any favors, Percy still managed to draw eyes. Annabeth knew there were other girls who came just to watch him swim.

She dreaded the day he turned around to the bleachers and smiled up at one of them instead of her.

Percy’s little fan club consisted of a few sophomore girls. She didn’t know their names but they were quite obviously fawning over Annabeth’s best friend.

But Percy pays them no mind. Instead, he finds his friends in the crowd. Percy lights up when he spots them and waves aggressively at them.

“What a dork,” Thalia whispers but she’s waving back like the rest of them.

The match is long.

“Mommm, are we there yet?” Leo asks, in a high pitched voice.

“How much longer?” Jason adds.

Annabeth checks her phone. “Maybe a half hour?” She says.

Percy is currently warming the bench. He finished his individuals and now was waiting for his relay.

He’s fiddling with his phone, which Annabeth knows he’s not supposed to do. But meets are long and their coach knows it. He’s usually a little more understanding especially if it’s just sending a quick text like Percy is doing.

Percy: bored yet?

Annabeth: the boys are Annabeth: well Jason is fine, Leo and Grover are tired lol

Percy: no surprise there

A whistle blows and Percy tucks his phone away again. In no time, he’s back in the pool.

If he wins this race he’ll place second. At least, Annabeth thinks he will. Scoring for swimming is still a bit confusing. Mostly because she’s not focusing in on the coaches and every time she thinks to ask Percy, he distracts her with some silly antidote.

When the last whistle blows, the teams are toweled and waiting for results. It doesn’t take long, thankfully, to get scores.

Annabeth can’t keep the cheers in when they declare Percy as second. In fact, their whole group jumps up and starts chanting his name.

They celebrate with milkshakes at their favorite ice cream shop. There they make plans to go ride the mechanical bull at Mino-Bar the following weekend.

“I believe I owe you this,” Thalia says, sliding her hand across the table to Leo, “Percy pulled through.”

“Percy did what?” Percy asks.

“Placed top 3,” Jason fills him in.

“Unsurprisingly,” Piper adds.

Thalia picks up her hand revealing Leo’s fake ID underneath, “and I believe I said I want in on this bet.”

Leo pulls out his phone where he’s been keeping a list.

“Place your bet, mamacita.”

She plucks Leo’s phone straight from his hands and types in her guess. Thalia hands it back and grips his wrist, “call me that again and I’ll kill you.”

“She won’t,” Annabeth says, noticing their waitress has returned with their check. “She’s kidding.”

Jason is the last one easing out of their booth so Annabeth waits for him. Plus, she knows their group is going to the small lobby to huddle around the singular claw machine they still have. Percy’s on this mission to win a stuffed animal from it; he’s been attempting each time they come to no avail.

She’s not even sure why he wants one so bad. Maybe it’s just the success of winning he’s after. Percy’s always been pretty competitive. Even if the game is against a literal machine.

“Alright Jason, when are you asking Piper to prom?”

It’s time for a direct approach.

He freezes for a moment.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, “I think it needs to be special because…well…”

“It’s not just prom you’re after, you want to ask her out. I know.”

The two of them had only been flirting for the last year. It’ll be a relief to all of them when Jason and Piper finally get together. Though, their PDA might quickly become worse than the yearning.

Jason widens his eyes but out of all their friends Annabeth is the most likely to have clocked his feelings for Piper. It really shouldn’t have been that surprising.

“When did you figure it out?” he asks.

“Don’t worry, you’re only being obvious to me.”

He seems relieved. Annabeth gains nothing from letting him know Piper feels the same way. At this moment, it’s irrelevant for Jason to know of Piper’s feelings nor does she want to betray her friend's trust.

“Well, I’ve got stuff riding on this so we need a plan.”

So, they make plans to hangout.

As predicted the rest of the group is intently watching as Percy battles with the claw machine. Today’s prize he’s after seems to be a little gray owl stuffed animal. He loses.

“Out of quarters ‘’til next time,” he declares.

“Leo, I assume you want a ride home?” Piper asks.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Annabeth, you with me?” Percy questions, already dangling his keys.

They live close enough that he’s usually her ride.

“Not today, Jackson. I got plans with Jason.”

Percy’s smile drops. “Since when?”

“Don’t fret, I’ll still come over for dinner as promised. Tell Sally not to worry.”

It’s tradition after his swim meets to have dinner together. Annabeth loves his family. And Sally’s cooking.

“Okay.”

Thalia gives them a weird once over but says nothing. Thankfully, Grover breaks the tension that suddenly bubbles up by calling out after him, “wait up, Perc!” And ends up in the passenger seat.

“I’ll see you all Monday,” Piper says before getting into her car.

Jason, Annabeth, and Thalia all cross the lot and piled into Jason’s car.

On Monday, their plan is set into action.

It’s simple. Go up to her at her locker at the end of the day and ask. Straightforward, to the point.

An unmistakable ask to the prom. Thus creating a winner for their bet. No room for argument, which is good because Piper is a brilliant debater.

Of course, when the time comes with Annabeth watching from a safe distance, Jason never shows.

She’s texting him, trying to decide if she could stall Piper.

Jason picked up after the third ring.

“I can’t do it,” he tells her, “I need a new plan.”

Annabeth sighs.

“Okay, meet me at the courts, we'll regroup.”

Jason agrees. As Annabeth turns away from Piper’s locker she bumps directly into Percy.

“Hey!”

“Oh hi, Percy.”

“Where are you off too? I was going to ask if you had time to help me with my geometry?”

She checks the time. “I can meet you at the cafe in an hour?”

Annabeth is too busy staring at Jason’s text that he’s waiting for her in the gym that she doesn’t notice Percy’s weird gaze. “Um okay. See you in an hour.”

Their next plan requires little to no talking since that seemed to be Jason’s issue today.

And everything goes wrong, again. Jason’s handmade poster—a teenage movie cliche but something Annabeth knew Piper would find charming coming from Jason—is soaked by rain. As is Jason.

There hadn’t been rain in the forecast but the skies had opened up unexpectedly as soon as they got to school that morning.

They go even simpler on Wednesday. A cup of coffee with the word “prom?” written on it.

“You brought me coffee?” Piper questions when Jason tries to hand it over. “That’s sweet but I really prefer iced.”

She shakes her iced coffee that she must’ve gotten herself this morning.

Piper is rifling through her locket when she asks, “Annabeth do you want it?”

Annabeth shares a look of disappointment with Jason, who shrugs as if to say “oh well.”

She takes the coffee from him. They walk to homeroom together.

“It’s 3 strikes and you’re out right?” Jason says, “guess I’m out.”

“No way, we will figure this out. It’s just a little string of bad luck. Piper wants to go to prom with you. Of this I’m sure.”

Jason gives her a half smile, “you never give up.”

“And I’m not letting you give up either.”

Wednesday during lunch, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper make plans to go dress shopping after school.

Piper drives them to the mall. They start with food before going in and out of every single store with any semblance of fancy attire. Piper and Annabeth go into dressing rooms with their arms full of dresses in various sizes and colors and lengths but walk out of the stores with nothing to show for it.

In their seventh store of the afternoon, Annabeth is trying on a seafoam green dress. It’s the exact shade of Percy’s eyes, she thinks, smoothing out the gown.

“How are we doing ladies?” Hazel asks from just outside the dressing room doors.

Annabeth steps out to show off her dress at the same time Piper’s door opens. Piper is in red. It’s beautiful against her skin tone.

“This does nothing for my boobs,” she sighs.

The dress does have a weird top.

“Oh Annabeth, you look amazing,” Piper says.

“You don’t think it washes me out?”

“Not at all,” Hazel replies.

Neither girl ends up leaving the mall with their dream prom dress. They’re upset by having little prospects but it also gives them the excuse to plan another girls’ day shopping.

As much as Annabeth loves planning, she’s feeling pretty hopeless by Friday. A whole week of prom plans gone awry. Annabeth’s not sure how many more cute ways to ask someone to prom she can think of.

She doesn’t see any of her friends in the hallway on the way to her locker. Not even Jason, which is odd since he’s normally standing at his own locker. Maybe he came up with his own plan to ask Piper to prom; Piper’s locker is on the other side of the building. Annabeth can only hope that’s where he is. She still really wants to win this bet.

Plus, she doesn’t think Piper’s made much progress on the Percy front. In fact, Percy hadn’t made any attempt to ask Annabeth to prom. Though she hadn’t seen much of him this week either. Beyond a little homework help, lunch, and their shared classes.

This weekend, she vows she’ll make time for her best friend. Prom schemes have taken up too much of her time. Sure, she wants to stick it to Piper but she also doesn’t want to neglect Percy.

Annabeth opens her locker and her heartbeat skips. Sitting on top of her calculus textbook is a small stuffed animal gray owl. In its lap, a tiny little sign asking: prom?

“I figured if I was going to ask my best friend out, it had better be extra cheesy.”

She moves her locker door and finds Percy smiling at her sheepishly.

“It’s pretty cheesy, so I’d call it a success.”

“It’s only a success if you say yes.”

“Why don’t you ask me then?”

Percy gives her a look like she can’t believe she’s making him do this.

“Annabeth Chase, will you go to prom with me?”

Forgetting all about how competitive she is and how badly she wants to win her bet with Piper, Annabeth says yes.

And the way Percy hugs her makes it totally worth it.

All she can think about is going to prom with Percy. Slow dancing at prom with Percy. Drinking spiked punch at prom with Percy. She thinks about how well worth it will all be once they’re at prom together.

Percy waves at her from just outside the fenced in area around the mechanical bull. Standing next to him is Piper smirking, clearly very pleased with herself.

Their whole group of friends is here tonight at Mino-Bar. Leo and Jason had already taken their turns on the bull and been thrown off within the first few seconds. All Annabeth had to do was get on it.

No one had placed bets on her. Well, Piper had but that was about prom dates not how long she’d last on the mechanical bull.

Annabeth is competitive but she’s not a sore loser even when she has every right to be. In this case, Annabeth has every right to be.

Piper and Jason had conspired against her. All those failed attempts at asking Piper to prom were false flags. Jason had actually been nervous to ask her…months ago…before they had apparently kissed at a party.

They both claimed to not be secretly dating. In fact, they had avoided talking about it for so long because they each assumed their feelings weren’t returned. Then, Piper had overheard Jason talking about kissing her and the rest is history.

“We’ve only been talking the last week or so,” Piper told her.

“So you cheated.”

“No, it had nothing to do with Jason and me.”

“Didn’t it? That was half of the bet, Pipes.”

“Okay fine, it did but it was about prom and Percy asked you first, you knew we were going to influence each boy into asking and you never said I couldn’t influence both of them.”

“You were deliberately stopping Jason from asking you!” She exclaimed, “that’s cheating.”

“Is it?” Piper asked, innocently.

Annabeth had been frustrated with her friend but at the end of the day, she couldn’t really argue. Piper was right. It hadn’t been against the rules to deter Jason from asking Piper to prom nor had it been to deter Percy. Annabeth had just been convinced Percy wouldn’t ask…she…her pride was responsible for her current situation.

And to reclaim that hurt pride, Annabeth had one mission: stay in the bull longer than any of the boys. Then the only thing anyone will be talking about is how Annabeth somehow outwitted and outlasted them all.

She grips the handles and braces herself. Just a few seconds. Annabeth counts them in her head drowning out the shouting and the music.

One. Two. Three.

She breathes and spins and is being tossed around.

Four. Five. Six.

She’s already done it. She’s outlasted Leo and Jason. Maybe just one more…

Seven.

And all she remembers is landing on the mat. The bull must stop moving but all Annabeth sees is green. Percy’s green eyes staring down at her with a wide grin.

His eyes are still worried but he’s clearly trying to mask it.

“Did you hit your head?” He asks, attempting to help her sit up.

She doesn’t remember answering. All Annabeth can think about is kissing him. So she does. She pulls Percy on top of her, he stumbles and bumps her nose. Annabeth holds his face and presses their lips together.

#percy jackson #percabeth fanfic #percabeth fanfiction #percabeth #my fics #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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