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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

Text

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are.

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way.

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy.

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger?

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing.

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking.

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils.

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck.

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb.

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon.

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride.

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store.

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue.

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them.

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out.

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet.

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend.

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs.

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him.

But you lied.

You did miss it.

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended.

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too.

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face.

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!?

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!”

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention.

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you?

You roll your eyes as you scoff.

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece.

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer.

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life!

Your parents were even coming to this!

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up.

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji.

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was.

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!”

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables.

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden.

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

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artdcnaldson · 5 months ago

Note

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson smut

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the-boy-meets-evil · 8 months ago

Text

on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum.

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home.

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers.

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says.

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say.

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees.

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.”

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo?

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer.

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.”

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure.

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble.

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.”

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses.

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious.

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks.

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.”

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill.

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear.

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles.

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes.

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly.

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules.

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells.

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes.

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you.

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll.

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either.

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything.

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve.

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters.

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out.

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you.

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs.

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine.

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy.

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal.

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter.

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel.

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply.

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too.

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns.

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back.

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs.

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire.

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits.

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust.

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses.

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg.

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep.

“Please,” you beg again.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more.

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over.

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high.

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,” you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers.

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone.

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh.

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.”

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time.

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place.

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page.

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around.

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment.

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?”

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand.

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.”

“Of course not,” he says.

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed.

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you.

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked.

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble.

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan.

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out.

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks.

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night.

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.”

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says.

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says.

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited.

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird.

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?”

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say.

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure.

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings.

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness.

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake.

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep.

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says.

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him.

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge.

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.”

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply.

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits.

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.”

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say.

“About what?” he asks.

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately.

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation.

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him.

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized.

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous.

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug.

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?”

“I don’t know, a while,” he says.

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.”

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.”

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool.

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment.

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.”

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural.

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

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selfishdoll · 1 year ago

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❛ I WANNA SEE...❜

Quit talkin' 'bout it, be about it | Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ LEMME SEE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

butt-dialing your roommate while pleasing yourself (and moaning his name) went in a completely different direction than you thought it would.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

accidental voyuerism, reader is a little dumb (love her though) black reader, they are both 20-22, roommates to lovers, mutual masturbation, praise & teasing, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, etc.), oral sex(fem receiving), manhandling, dumbification, choso has been pining for a while he was just waiting on you, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, hand on throat (not choking it’s just there), porn mention, etc. if i left something out please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

choso has been plaguing my brain just like bi-han is. also this idea came up randomly. lowkey rushed at the end. i hope you enjoy and as always; this fic is unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to Kamo Choso. It was all physical, at first; eyes trailing down his body the day you met him— enjoying just about everything your gaze set on. He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way, eyes lined with bags as if he hadn’t slept in years; however built as if he never left the gym. How he handled both was beyond you.

But of course, the attraction didn’t end there, it grew when you got to know him— and when you moved in with him. After being rushed out of your previous apartment by your shitty landlord, Choso was more than happy to give you the extra bedroom in his home; declaring you didn’t need to pay rent for about two months just to get your bearings. From then on, anytime you saw Choso, or if anyone mentioned him; you were flushed with heat, a disgusting amount of butterflies settling in your stomach.

You were whipped and there was nothing you could do. Given you refused to jeopardize the friendship you two had.

Today was your off day after a hellish week. You planned to spend it in bed, cuddled under Halloween themed blankets. Your eyes peered up at the television hanging aganist your wall, enjoying some random video of your favorite youtuber. You blinked as a gentle knock came on your door, slowly sitting up as an enter escaped you shortly after. The door opened, revealing Choso dressed in a baggy black tshirt and some sweats. His keys were in his hands, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m going out for a bit, do you need anything?”

You smiled, tilting your head in thought. “Mm.. no.” You spoke, watching him raise his eyebrows for a moment, giving an are you sure look. You chuckled, nodding once more to which he hummed a bit.

“Don’t call me later because you forgot somethin’.”

“That’s only happened once, Choso!” You huffed, watching as he turned, exiting your bedroom. And soon the house. You sighed a bit, sliding down your headboard to rest on your back, glancing up at the ceiling. Despite him not being in the room your still felt insanely warm, hands rising to your cheeks to groan into them. Why was he so fine and so sweet all at the same time? It frustrated you to no end.

You rolled onto your side, legs crossing as you pushed your face into your pillows. Hands gliding down from your face, you felt the warmth grow; trickling down between your thighs. Sighing softly to yourself, you switched to lay on your back again, blindly reaching for your phone. Like clockwork you clicked onto the dreaded X app, using two hands to type in a genre before one slinked back under your blankets.

You scrolled for a moment, fingers breaching your panties and simply rolling lazy circles onto your clit. The tiny sparks of pleasure slowly relied you up, searching endlessly for a video, getting more annoyed by the second. Moments passed before you sighed heavily, dropping your phone onto the bed whilst kicking off your blankets.

Your imagination would have to do. And what did it always drift off too? Kamo Choso.

Panties now bunched to your ankles, two fingers glided across your slick slit, collecting your essence until you were nice and moist; all while your other hand continued to roll circles onto your hardened buds. Dipping your fingers down, a soft sigh escaped you as you pushed them in, not reaching as deep as you liked but close enough. Once comfortable you began to thrust them in and out of you, curling them every so often— causing sweet moans to escape you.

You thought of him. Thought of yourself under him, using his fingers that were surely much bigger then your own. Stretching you out in preparation, all while he whispered words into your ear. You bit the inside of your cheek, the intensity of your fingers quickening, hips rising up off the bed as vocal noises escaped you. You moved on the bed, rolling a bit before situating yourself onto your back again. Gasps escaped you, desperate moans as you chased after your release. Choso consumed your mind, fantasies pushed forth as if seeing them right before you. His body, his voice, his hair tickling your heated skin— it was all too much. You needed him so much.

“Fuck, Choso..” Was the high-pitched whimper that escaped you, hand tiring yet refusing to stop, you were so close. You rubbed your clit raw, fingers pushing against your gummy walls before you finally came, a final moan escaping you. You breathed heavily, falling back against the bed as you slowly withdrew your fingers, groaning a bit. It took a moment to calm yourself down, rolling onto your side and attempting to ignore your mess for now. Just a moment, you would clean yourself up.

That was until your eyes zoned in on your phone, realizing it was on. With a blink you sat up, feeling your heart fall straight to your ass. There, clear as day, was Choso’s contact name. You were currently on a call with him. One you hadn’t nor realized you accepted.

The silence was eerie, a shaky hand rising to hover above the screen. Like an idiot you spoke, “Choso?..”

And much to your horror you got a breathy, “Yeah?” back. You screamed internally, hurriedly cutting the call and falling into your bed. Obscenities escaped you into your pillow, eyes pinched close as embarrassment ran through your body. Of course you would butt-dial him, of course you would moan his name, and of course you would say his name again instead of simply ending the call! So stupid, so stupid! You could die right then and there.

There was only one solution to this problem; avoid him for a month until he pushes it to the back of his mind. It sounded ridiculous, but that was the only way. So, you stood, grabbing your towel from its hanging place and paddling over to the bathroom. You would shower, grab some water and snacks — so you wouldn’t have to leave you room —, and lock your door. Choso isn’t the type to barge in, but you couldn’t chance it.

You made quick work of bathing yourself, hissing at the burning sensitivity between your legs. Once finished you pat yourself dry, sliding some lotion on yourself soon after and pulling on some shorts and a shirt after your panties. Opening your bedroom door you glanced around suspiciously, waltzing over to the kitchen and snatching up two water bottles and a couple of your snacks. Holding them between your arms while walking back to your bedroom, you felt your stomach drop the moment the front door opened. You rushed the final steps to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. You breathed as you heard heavy footsteps around the house, stepping over to your bed and placing your snacks and drinks on the nightstand. You jumped as a knock came on your door, quickly going quiet.

All was still until he spoke, “Got you some food. It’ll be behind the door.”

You nearly felt bad for ignoring him, wondering if he bought it before or after you completely defiled his ears. Biting your lip, you waited until you heard his bedroom door close, waltzing over and carefully unlocking your own. Pulling it open, you glanced down at the styrofoam container, smiling a little to yourself. Leaning to pick it up, you released a small thank you, before quickly shutting and locking the door.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you walked over to your bed, sitting down and placing the food down. Dwelling over your mistake would only ruin your appetite, you decided to distract yourself with horror movies.

After eating the food and enjoying the third scream movie, you took a nap, curled up under your blankets comfortably. An hour or so passed before you woke up, blinking slowly and glancing around the room; the only light being the television. A soft yawn escaped you, slowly sitting up and glancing at your mess. You grimaced, picking up your empty water bottle, wrapper, and food container— switching around to stand and walk over to your door. Unlocking it, you opened and exited your bedroom, sliding over to the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the trash can and placing your trash inside. Walking over to the sink, you squirted a little soap in your hands, washing them for a good few minutes before cutting the water off, shaking your hands to dry. Turning to head back to your bedroom, a yell escaped you when you noticed the man standing in the doorway.

Choso smiled a little, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed his arms, your eyes instinctively falling to them before rising back to his face. You shook your head quickly, nervously adjusting your shirt onto your body. “It’s okay.. No problem.” You cringed internally at your own voice, eyes closed and suppressing a groan.

An awkward silence carried in the room for a moment before you finally decided to rip the bandaid. You glanced up, meeting his gaze that was already fixated onto you. “Choso, I’m.. really sorry I called you and you.. heard me.” You murmured, fingers continuing to fiddle with themselves.

“I called you.” He corrected, you giving a nervous smile and a nod.

“Right, but still. I understand if you’re uncomfortable and our dynamic changes for a little bit. I.. hope you can forgive me.”

Choso tilted his head for a moment, finger tapping against his arm as a small smile painted his features. He entered the kitchen fully, coming to stand before you. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He hummed softly, eyes tracing your face for a moment before his smile deepened. “I’ll forgive you.. if you show me what you were doing to yourself.”

You blinked as his words settled into your mind, eyes slowly going wide. He had to be joking, right? Gaze boring into his own and looking for any hint of amusement or mischief. Unfortunately, you could tell that Kamo Choso was dead serious. Waiting ever so patiently for your reply. Yet, you still asked.

“You’re being.. serious?” You licked your suddenly dry lips, a cold feeling running down your body the moment he nodded. Eyes never moving away from you. Heart thrumming against your chest, a soft okay escaping you after a moment. Gripping your shirt you watched as Choso stepped to the side to allow you to leave, following close behind as the two of you exited the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the heat rising, ears burning as you felt his heavy gaze upon your form. Entering your bedroom, you flipped the light on, approaching your bed. You hesitated, giving the man enough time to approach you, gently cradling your back. “You can back out, (Y/N). I refuse to push you into something you don’t want to do.” Was what Choso whispered against your ear, pulling back to glance down at you. Searching for anymore restraint.

You thought it over, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment before you stepped away from him. The man watched as your fingers curled under the waistband of your shorts and panties, slowly pulling them down your body. You came to lay on your bed, watching as he followed to sit at the edge of it.

“Watch carefully, Choso.” A sudden burst of confidence entered you, legs sliding open to reveal yourself to him. Your hand glided down your form, using two fingers to slowly spread yourself, middle finger coming to roll slow circles onto your clit. As the pleasure grew your legs opened more, head leaning back as a soft sigh escaped you. Your hand rose, pushing two fingers into your mouth and coating them in your saliva, purposely moaning around them just to watch him twitch.

Choso’s gaze was intense, leaving nothing untouched by his eyes. He hissed softly as he watched you push your saliva covered fingers inside, your walls clenching around the digits eagerly. You moaned softly, beginning to thrust them as two fingers rolled upon your clit. A soft swear escaped Choso, leaning to rest on his elbow while his free hand pushed his sweats and boxers to rest on his thighs, revealing his half hard length. Slowly he stroked himself, watching your fingers falter when you noticed him. Choso shook his head, reaching over and gently knocking his knuckles against your ankle.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep going..” He breathed, thumb collecting precum from his slit and gliding it down his cock. He groaned the moment your fingers moved again, watching the way you fucked yourself, your sweet moans bouncing off the walls. Choso couldn’t believe it when you picked up the call and he heard you, and he definitely couldn’t believe his ears when you moaned his name. He felt so perverted, loving every second of that call.

You hips rolled, legs shaking as your fingers curled and scissored inside you. Breathing heavily, his name escaped your mouth legs threatening to close from the pleasure. To which he refused, reaching over and locking his fingers around your ankle, pulling your legs open.

“Choso..”

“Wanna see.. that’s it, you’re so close princess.” Choso huffed, pace quickening— grinning at the way you clenched from his words. Your peaks were approaching, combined sounds of pleasure covering the room. Your eyes were pinched closed, whimpers escaping your throat before you came, coating your fingers in your release. Blurry eyes opened in time to see Choso tense, making a mess on his pants, hand, and bottom of his shirt.

The two of you panted, your legs relaxing, head resting against your pillow as you allowed yourself to breathe. That was until, you were dragged farther down the bed, feeling his strong hands grasp your thighs, parting them. You glanced down in time to spot him plant a kiss against your slit, gasping from the sensitivity. “Choso—!” You cried out, his thick tongue parting your folds, gliding across your sensitive bud.

The man wasted no time on feasting away on you, collecting your mess as if it was the finest wine; moaning at your taste. His grip tightened when you attempted to run from the pleasure, driving his tongue into you and curling. It was too much, too soon; your back arching as your hands found his hair, gripping and ruining the messy buns. Cries escaped you, thighs wrapping around his head so tightly, surely cutting off his air supply. But the man didn’t care at all, continuing to thrust his tongue in and out of you, dragging it out every once in a while to glide across your clit before diving back in.

Knuckles balled, you shook as you came all over his face, pushing your pussy right into him which he welcomed happily. He wasn’t any more gentle cleaning you up, lapping your juices with a soft hum. You pushed at him, Choso finally releasing you from the torture and sitting up. Choso rose, lifting his shirt to wipe his face clean of your mess before pulling it off fully and tossing it to the side.

You panted as he crawled over you, leaning on a forearm as his free hand gently grabbed your chin. “Focus here, princess..” He murmured softly, grinning at the way your heavy lidded eyes landed on his face. Choso leaned, stealing your breath in a heated kiss, wasting no time in driving his tongue into your mouth. Your taste burned your tongue, hands grabbing his strong arms for stability. Soft smacks entered the room, the kiss deepening; a softer whine escaping you the moment his hand traveled to your throat, simply holding it. The man rose away for a moment, a swear escaping him as he took in your disheveled form.

“How long have you wanted this, (Y/N)? Weeks? Months?” Choso questioned, tutting the moment you attempted to turn away. His hand traveled, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he leaned down. “You’ve gone mute, sweet girl?”

You murmured softly, fingers trailing to his wrist, warming at the way his thumb pressed against your slick lips. “Months.. since I’ve met you.”

“Oh..” Choso could nearly come on the spot from that, listening to your sweet, shaky voice admit something so dirty. Watching your pretty eyes refuse to meet his gaze. You were so embarrassed.. as if you hadn’t just played with yourself infront of him. He would chuckle if he wasn’t scared of offending you. Instead, he leaned even closer, lips hovering above your own as your noses brushed against each other. “Yeah? Bet this isn’t the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me..“ He spoke, lips quirking as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You wanted me to catch you one day, didn’t you pretty girl?”

You quickly shook your head, watching as the man sat up, hands falling to your thighs. You breathed as he rose them, resting the back of your knees onto his shoulders while his cock brushed across your entrance. Choso tilted his head at you, thumbs tracing your skin. “I didn’t take you for a liar, (Y/N).”

Before you could defend yourself he was pushing inside, a sharp moan escaping you as he began to stretch you. His hands were firm on you, keeping you grounded and steady. His eyes darted between the two of you, watching the way you spread around his length so nicely; walls clenching with each push inside. Choso felt the way your legs shook, a soft whine escaping you before he reached between your legs, slowly rolling circles on your hardened bud. “Relax for me, pretty girl.. That’s it— I’m almost there.” He nearly groaned at the way you clenched from his words, pushing his hips and becoming fully seated inside you.

Choso allowed you a moment to breathe, watching for any discontent while his finger continued to gingerly rub your clit. When he noticed the pained expression melt away, he was pulling his hips back, driving them forward quickly. The moment you moaned, was when he lost restraint; thrusts increasing and soon fucking you into the mattress.

Your legs shook with each rock into your body, his cock bullying your insides, reaching far deeper then your fingers or any toy you owned. Your fingers balled up the blankets underneath you, back arched as cries escaped your throat. It was becoming too much, tears ready to spill as you twisted and turned from the immense pleasure. You whined as he suddenly leaned down, pressing your legs up against your chest while his hand gently grabbed your throat once more.

“Don’t run (Y/N).. Stay right here, take it.” Choso spoke, breath heavy as his weight was placed behind each thrust. He watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your bed, grinning to himself in enjoyment and pure pride. You were clenching him so harshly, refusing to let him go, sucking him back in greedily. He was in a daze, completely focused on nothing more than your reactions; your beautiful sounds, your twitches, how your hands rose to clench at his arms— hanging on by a thread, using him for stability.

“Choso, Choso, Choso!” His name fell from your lips in a desperate mantra, eyebrows pinched closed as you felt yourself getting closer and close. The band was tight, ready to burst as his cock rammed into you— slamming against your g-spot with no mercy. You finally broke, soaking the sheets under you, ruining them completely.

Choso released a groan at the sight and feeling leaning to plant a heavy kiss onto your lips, all while fucking you through your orgasm. You whined at the sensitivity, hand falling to his waist to which he easily caught, intertwining your fingers and pushing into the mattress. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

“Mm.. I—I can’t—!” You cried out, the man pulling back to glance down at you. You were truly a sight, bohemian braids spread out around your hair, edges messy while your lips were bruised and coated in your shared saliva. Eyes lidded, shirt damp with your sweat with your breasts pushing against the thin fabric. The man sucked in a breath, hand falling to your waist and lifting, fucking you at different angle just to hear you scream.

“You can.. been takin’ me so well princess, making me a mess.” Choso breathed, eyelids heavy as he felt his end growing closer and closer. Lip caught between his teeth his thrusts became hurried, ramming you into the mattress all while continuing to hold your hand.

Incoherent babbles escaped you, knees brushing your chest, stuck under his weight. The moment he reached between you two to rub tight circles onto your clit you were done, lifting up off the bed and creaming all over him; throat raw, voice abused.

Choso’s eyes rolled back to his skull, rising as his thrusts turned sloppy, vocal moans and praises escaping him. Soon enough he was painting your walls white, stuffing you full as the warmth caused you to whine. The smell of sex rested in the air, followed by your commingled breaths.

The man moved your legs off his shoulders, allowing them to rest at his sides before coming to lay on you. You groaned softly, hands traveling to his back. He wasn’t a light man at all, nearly placing all his weight on you. “Choso.. you’re heavy.” You whined softly, still trying to regain your breath. He simply breathed you in, free hand moving to travel up the back of your skull, fingers gliding across the parts of your braids.

“Choso!”

“One more minute. Then we can shower.”

You shook your head with a simple sigh, smiling to yourself as your fingers trailed his back. However, the man rose from his previous position, releasing your hand to place them on your waist. “On second thought.. one more round.”

Your eyes widened in horror, yet excitement brewed in your stomach. It seemed you wouldn’t be leaving your bed anytime soon.

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso #choso kamo

1K notes · View notes

lowkeyremi · 1 year ago

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Back off my man osamu x fem!reader

notes: I was only gonna write for tsumu but like it's osamu's bday too and i love him. Basically some girl doesn't seem to get the hint so u have to assert ur dominance. the tsumu ver is here

Content: slight language, fluff, little bit suggestive (just a past sexual relationship samu had, established relationship

"Are you free tonight, Samu?" She asks him with a smile on her face.

He's told her millions of times about his girlfriend, which is you. This girl is persistent though, and has told him many times she'll treat him better than you ever could.

Which pisses you off because you've been his girl forever and you don't understand why this girl thinks she can just come in and take your spot.

"I've already told ya, I won't be free for ya, ever. What part of that do you not understand?" He asks, setting down a plate of your favorite onigiri for you. The workload has been crazy this past week and Osamu will always do anything to make you feel a little bit better. You do the same for him on days when the shop gets crazy.

"I just don't understand Samu! You used to have time for me during culinary school when we-" He cuts her off sharply.

"That was over six years ago, I don't understand why ya hang on so tightly to something that was never meant to be! We fucked a coupla times back then and that was it. I found the one for me, so please drop it." His jaw is clenched and you can tell he's very irritated by this woman.

His fist is also balled up on the counter. You try to soothe him by grabbing his hand and rubbing circles into it. He breathes softly trying to calm down.

You can't just sit here and watch this woman do this anymore. You've tried to be nice to her, but she makes it so hard.

"But-"

"Listen, if Osamu wanted you he would have chosen you. Osamu is a smart man and he knows what he wants." You're good at keeping your voice level when you feel anything but calm.

She glares at you, and Osamu doesn't even say anything. He's trying to calm down some.

The woman gets up from the high top stool and stomps out of the shop.

"M'sorry ya had to see that, she just wasn't getting the hint." He says removing his cap and running a hand through his rich dark brown hair.

"It's okay, you look hot when you're mad." Even though it was a crappy joke it still gets a little chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Gonna go tidy up, are you heading to the house or stayin' here?" His look definitely says he wants you to stay, who are you to deny?

"Well duh! Who's gonna be DJ?" Nothing could bring you more satisfaction than the way his smile drops at the mention of you playing your music.

"On second thought, maybe ya should go home. Had a long day right?" Osamu is stuck with you, he should know this already.

You pretend to think about it for a second. "Hmm I think I'll stay."

"Okay, but don't play any of yer shitty music or I'll kick ya out." The crazy thing is that he's one hundred percent serious. You and Osamu are complete opposites except for the fact that you two both love food.

Your music taste has never really been his favorite. The same is true for his music. You always cover your ears and pretend gag.

"Hey 'samu?" You ask voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He returns.

"Do that more, okay? If anyone hits on you-"

"That was a one time thing cuz she kept asking over 'n over. Most people stop after the first time." Osamu disappears into the kitchen and you open your favorite music app to play your favorite artist.

"Womp womp, no more hot Osamu."

"The hell are ya talkin' about? 'M hot all the time." There's defensiveness in his voice like he was actually taking you seriously.

"I know, it was just a joke." You counter with a smirk.

"Ain't a funny one I can tell ya that." His large bulging arms cross and you can see his muscles flex.

"Go clean up! Stop looking like a thirst-trap all the damn time!" You whine in frustration. Osamu's deep laughter follows not too long after.

"Whatever ya say, sweetie."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu #osamu miya fluff #miya twins #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine

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floralcyanide · 3 months ago

Text

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

�� pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?”

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies.

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter.

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other.

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive.

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that!

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially.

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add.

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed.

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words.

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly.

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is.

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith.

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement.

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas.

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow.

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive.

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine.

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person.

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you.

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger.

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain.

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness.

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night.

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you.

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins.

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner.

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

#javier rivera #javier rivera x reader #javir ivera #javi rivera x reader #javi x reader #javier “javi” rivera #javier “javi” rivera x reader #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #twisters x reader #anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #floralcyanide writes

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

Note

This look is so intense, so don't-give-a-fuck. It does darker things to me... And the hair is a bit messy. It got my muse spiraling down a bit of a dirty course of thought.

Title: Parking Lot Chem Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 6.7k Summary: In a bit of a loser era, divorced, dirty, not giving much of a damn about anything, Bucky works a bit of an unconventional night shift that leaves him with a lot of time to kill.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture, explicit and rough smut, oral (male receiving)/deep throating, vaginal fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, objectification, naked vs. clothed imbalance, coercion, use of "baby" as a term of endearment, dacryphilia, praise, mild degradation (teasing/mean but not vicious), general dirty talk, slight innocence/ruining kink, implied cockwarming, cum play/marking, sex in a semi-public place

Author Notes: I moved to a new apartment in the spring, and I noticed kind of an interesting thing that happens on weeknights across the street from my place. It got my mind spinning, and months later, I'm finally playing with the concept.

Logistical Notes: My July entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the DEEP THROATING prompt and week 9 of Hot Bucky Summer using the WET AND MESSY prompt.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Fuck,” he whispers in the dark. Desire and adrenaline rev in his veins at the sight of your headlights parking just where he’d told you to, across the street from the business park complex, in front of the residential apartments.

Bucky’s been working this job for six weeks, and it’s a joke, but it’s a decent-paying joke of a job. From 10pm until 6am, all he has to do is periodically drive a pick up truck around around the large parking lot that services the two business buildings to the north and south of the lot, make sure no one from the apartments across the street to the east or west side park in the lot overnight, and ticket and boot any cars if a resident or visitor is stupid enough to roll the dice and try. Yellow-amber flashing lights affixed to the roof of the truck’s cab, it’s Bucky’s responsibility to deter and keep things clear so that the employees for the companies housed at this business complex can show up and park free of cars, at least one potential hassle eliminated from their corporate working routine.

Eight hours of paid nearly-free time, unbothered by anyone or anything, in the quiet of the night.

He won’t work this job forever, but it sure as shit beats some of the other unappealing options after getting fired from his last job.

He’s read a lot of books sitting in this truck’s cab. He’s played a lot of games on his phone. He’s started putting in a lot of applications for other jobs and even a couple of masters programs. He’s too caught up on news, memes, and social media.

A couple of weeks ago he decided to download a couple of dating apps again, fish and see what’s out there. He’s been divorced for two years now, and Steve and Sam have been dropping hints that he should try and put himself out there again.

Last week he downloaded an app he saw mentioned by a couple of people in chats on the other dating apps - this one known for being a thinly veiled “dating” app full of people who might not be looking for a date so much as a bit of unattached fun.

He started talking to you two nights ago.

There really were plenty of people who were trying to use this particular app for legitimate dating.

But there were subtle signs, particular turns of phrase, avenues of conversation that you could test the waters with to uncover someone else who just wanted to quench some thirst.

And here you were.

Bucky shifts the truck from idle, and drives down the row of parking spaces, turns left to slowly drive down the north side, looking like he’s making one of his routine twice-an-hour laps around the lot, and then takes another left when he gets to the end. He flashes his headlights, and then he smiles as he sees you push open your door and slip out of the car.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking in the first sight of you.

You hastily look both ways - confirming that no one is coming down the road at this godforsaken time of night - then cross the street and step up to the curb just as Bucky pulls up next to you.

He reaches across to push the door open for you - a friendly gesture, certainly not a gentlemanly one, as there is nothing gentlemanly about his intentions toward you tonight.

“Hi,” you say, almost a little breathless. He assumes you must be a little nervous.

That’s cute.

He’s going to ruin you.

If you took any notice of the way he leers at you as you climb up into the cab with him, you would know, and you might hesitate or rethink this poor decision.

But you don’t.

And now the wolf has his prey.

He won’t harm you, but he’s certainly going to have his way with you.

"Hey there," Bucky replies, his voice a low rumble. "Glad you could make it."

You settle into the passenger seat, your eyes darting around the cab nervously. The air feels thick with anticipation. Bucky drinks in the sight of you - flushed cheeks, slightly disheveled hair, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying your excitement.

He puts the truck in drive and cruises slowly through the lot, amber lights still flashing above. "So," he drawls, "first time doing something like this?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Yeah, I've never... I mean, I don't usually..."

Bucky chuckles. You might be lying, but he thinks it’s probably true that you haven’t hooked up on this app before. If you made a habit of it, this probably would’ve happened the first night you started chatting.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You’re safe with me." His hand leaves the steering wheel, landing on your thigh. You inhale sharply at the contact, but don't pull away. And he’s not lying. You’re safe, but he plans to thoroughly ruin you before sunrise.

He feels your muscles tense under his palm, but you don't push him away. Instead, you ease into his touch ever so slightly. Bucky smirks, knowing he's got you right where he wants you. But he will play this out slowly.

"So," he says, his voice low and husky, "what you're hoping to get out of tonight."

You swallow hard, your eyes fixed on his hand on your thigh. "I… I'm not sure.” Then your eyes flicked back up to his. “I just knew I wanted to meet you."

Bucky's thumb begins to trace small circles on your leg, inching higher with each rotation. "That so? Well, I've got a few ideas of my own, if you're interested."

He feels the tiny shiver roll through your body, and he bites back a groan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but tell me more about you. What’s a sweet thing like you needing a dating app for?” he asks, steering you into conversational waters. He wants you to get more comfortable with him, relaxed, so he can ultimately have you completely pliant for him.

You laugh nervously, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice. "Oh, you know. Work keeps me busy. I don't really get out much."

Bucky nods, his eyes still on the road as he steers the truck around another corner of the lot. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm in marketing," you reply, relaxing a bit as the conversation turns to safer ground. "It's interesting, but the hours can be long. What about you? Do you... always work nights like this?"

Bucky chuckles. "Nah, this is just temporary. Needed something to pay the bills while I figure out my next move."

His hand is still on your thigh, warm and heavy. He can tell you're acutely aware of it, of how his thumb continues its lazy circles, inching higher with each pass. Your breath catches as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot, and he stops with the circles, but leaves his hand there. He loves that you wore leggings. He can feel every movement of your muscles. You’re stupid for not knowing how intimate that is - or for underestimating how it would drive him wild. He continues to drive. He only needs to circle the lot every thirty to forty-five minutes, but he knows this driving is part of easing you further into this.

"So, marketing," Bucky muses, his voice a low rumble. "That must keep you on your toes. Always chasing the next trend, right?"

You give a small nod, your gaze flickering between his hand still resting on your thigh the unchanging view - familiar to him, but unfamiliar to you - as he continues to drive. "Yeah, it can be pretty intense. But I like the challenge."

Bucky hums in agreement, his eyes alternating between you and the road. "I bet you're good at it too. Reading people, figuring out what they want."

You laugh nervously. "I try. But clearly I'm not that good at reading situations, or I wouldn't be here."

Bucky's hand tightens slightly on your thigh. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think you read this situation perfectly."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with promise. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening.

"Just two people wanting to spend time together - nothing more complicated than that,” he reassures you. It’s not a lie. And then he leads you down a slew of safe paths of conversation. Your family, your roommates, where you went for college, places you’d like to travel, a bit about your social life. The more he asks, the more you open up. He clocks some of your responses, but he’s far more interested in how you’re feeling with him, the verbal and non-verbal cues he reads as the minutes turn into an hour. Twenty minutes into that hour, he’d been able to park in the middle of the lot, and you hadn’t batted an eye, completely at ease.

Occasionally your fingers fidget in your lap. Both of you have turned to angle your bodies toward the other. There’s no barrier between you - it’s a full bench seat across from driver to passenger side.

He decides to push things a little further.

"So, back to your marketing expertise?" he says, his voice low and smooth.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’m not an expert. If I were an expert, I’d be driving a much better car already,” you laugh.

"No, no,” Bucky laughs along with you. “But you said you do have a pretty good job in your firm. Must mean you're… let’s say proficient at selling things? At... persuasion?"

You giggle nervously, maybe a little surprised at the turn of tactic. "I guess you could say that. Why do you ask?"

Bucky's hand slides up your thigh, just a fraction higher. "Just wondering what it might take to persuade you to do something a little... risky tonight."

Your breath hitches audibly. "What... what did you have in mind?"

He smirks, loving how eagerly you've taken his bait. "Well, we've got this whole parking lot to ourselves. No one around for hours. Seems a shame to waste such privacy.”

Another soft nervous laugh falls from your lips, and your eyes dart around. “I don’t know how private this is. We’re in the middle of an open parking lot.”

“Trust me, I’m the expert in this area, and no one is going to even come close to the cab of this truck.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension flickering across your face. "I... I'm not sure," you stammer, but your body language tells a different story. You've leaned in closer, your breath quickening.

Bucky's hand slides higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns on the inside of your leg. "Come on, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice low and persuasive. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

You bite your lip, clearly torn between desire and caution.

His other hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Bucky’s easy smile grows to a smirk. A few more cautious moments, and he knows you’ll be his. His hand slides even higher up your leg, fingertips just barely brushing the junction of your thighs. "How about we start with a kiss and see where things go from there?"

Your breath catches audibly, and for a moment, Bucky thinks you might refuse.

"I don't usually do this kind of thing," you murmur, even as you lean slightly into his touch.

"I know," Bucky says softly, his voice a low rumble. The wolf inside him is clawing at his chest to claim you, to ruin you, but he knows he can’t pounce yet. He needs you to ease completely into his trap.

Then you nod, almost imperceptibly. "Okay," you whisper.

Bucky's eyes darken with desire as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips brush against yours softly at first, giving you a final chance to pull away if you change your mind. But you don't. Instead, you press forward, deepening the kiss.

He groans low in his throat, his hand tightening on your thigh as the other slides to the back of your neck, gripping gently. The kiss quickly turns heated, all pretense of hesitation melting away as your lips move against each other hungrily.

Bucky's tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you eagerly grant it. As your tongues tangle, he shifts closer, using his grip at the nape of your neck to tilt your head, allowing him better access.

You whimper softly into his mouth, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating between you. His hand on your thigh tightens, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. A soft whimper escapes you as his tongue slides against yours, and he can feel the last of your reservations melting away. Your hands, which had been fidgeting in your lap, now reach up to grip his shoulders.

As the kiss intensifies, Bucky's hand on your thigh inches higher, his fingers ghosting over your center through your leggings. You gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pushing forward to chase his touch.

He breaks the kiss, chuckling darkly. "Eager little thing, aren't you?" he teases.

"I... I'm sorry, I just..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Don't apologize. I like it."

Like is an understatement. He’s feral for it. For you.

He leans in again, this time pressing his lips to your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he trails hot kisses down to your collarbone.

"God, you smell good," he murmurs against your skin, his stubble scratching deliciously as he nips at your pulse point.

You moan softly, your hands sliding into his hair. The sinful sound sends a jolt of desire straight through him. His other hand, still resting high on your thigh, begins to move with more purpose. He traces the seam of your leggings, feeling the heat radiating from your core.

"Bucky," you breathe, shuddering under his bold touch.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continue their teasing exploration, tracing light patterns over the thin fabric of your leggings.

You whimper, your hips shifting restlessly. "I... I don't know," you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly, nipping at your earlobe. "I think you do know. I think you knew exactly what you wanted when you agreed to meet me here. You just need a little... encouragement."

His hand slides higher, cupping you through your leggings. You gasp, your back arching as he applies pressure. "Is this what you want?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you moan, apparently unable to cling to the rest of your hesitation. "Please, Bucky."

He growls low in his throat, loving that he’s got you right where he wants you.

You dart forward, desperate to kiss him again, and he’s happy to provide you that distraction. One hand petting your pussy while you pant eagerly into the eager, open-mouthed kisses, he uses his other hand to unbuckle his jeans, undo the button, and lower the zipper. You’re so drawn in by his mouth and his ministrations on your clothed pussy, that you don’t even notice as he finally frees his raging hard cock.

With your attention fully captured by his skilled fingers and demanding mouth, Bucky takes the opportunity to guide your hand to his now exposed length. You gasp against his lips, pulling back slightly in surprise.

"What's wrong, sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "Isn't this what you came here for?"

Your eyes are wide, darting between his face and where your hand now rests on his cock. "I... I didn't..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his free hand cupping your face. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." But even as he says this, his hips shift slightly, pressing his hardness more firmly into your palm.

You swallow hard, your breath coming in quick pants. For a moment, you hesitate, but then your hand wraps around him, stroking experimentally.

Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. "Right there. Just like that."

He draws your face back to his, and swallows you up in a wet kiss, his tongue fucking in and out of your mouth, stroking his tongue insistently against yours. He’s coaxing, reeling you back in, and he feels the fruits of his efforts as your hand strokes him with more fervor the longer he kisses you.

You’re lonely. He picked up on that, and he’s using it to his advantage. He’ll give you some of you want to get what he wants, as well.

Bucky breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to see you," he growls, his hand sliding up under your shirt. "Take this off for me."

You hesitate for just a moment before nodding, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt. Bucky helps you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darken as they roam over your newly exposed skin.

“No bra?” he chuckles.

You bite your lip and your eyes dart down, away from his face.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Bucky's other hand continues its teasing exploration between your legs, the friction of your leggings adding to the delicious sensation. You're panting now, hips rocking against his.

"I want you to touch me," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You nod, your hand reaching for his cock again, but he catches your wrist, stopping you.

"Not like that," he growls. "I want your mouth on me."

Your eyes widen, darting between his face and his exposed cock.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he says, but the endearment drips off his tongue with cloying condescension, and he knows it, “You came out here at two am to meet up with a strange guy you only started talking to the night before last. You want to be used. Stop pretending like you’re going to resist. You’re going to let me do whatever the fuck I want with this body.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a wounded look in your eyes.

He chuckles and caresses your cheek. “Aw, you want it, too,” he coos. “You didn’t wear a bra, and I know you didn’t wear any panties either. When I peel these leggings off, your pussy is going to be bared and dripping and so eager for me.”

Your eyes flutter closed, but you don’t argue with him, and he guides you, hand on the back of your neck, to lean down into his lap. "Go on, sweet girl," he encourages. "Show me what a slut you want to be for me.”

Your breath catches. Bucky's words have struck a chord, and he can feel the mix of anticipation and nervousness in the air. It’s a heady thing, and he takes a deep breath as if he could inhale it. It makes his blood run hotter through his limbs.

With trembling hands, you lean the rest of the way in, your face hovering over his exposed cock.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his hand still firm on the back of your neck. "Open up for me."

You part your lips, and he feels your hot breath hovering at the head of his cock just a moment before you finally take him into your mouth. Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly as your warm, wet mouth envelops him.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl. Just like that."

You move slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him, mouthing at the head of his cock. But Bucky is impatient, using his hand, he guides you down more, urging you to take him deeper.

Bucky groans, his head falling back against the headrest as you start to work your tongue along his shaft.

"Fuck, that's good," he breathes, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Take more of me."

You comply, and Bucky's hips buck slightly, pushing himself further into your mouth. You gag a little, but quickly adjust, hollowing your cheeks, and he loves the feel of your soft, velvety mouth around his raging erection.

Bucky watches intently as you work your mouth over his cock, your lips stretched wide around his girth. The sight of you, eyes closed in concentration, cheeks hollowed as you suck, sends a jolt of pleasure through him. He can feel the wet heat of your tongue as it slides along the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein there.

The wet heat of your mouth envelops Bucky, drawing a deep groan from his chest. Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before you take him deeper. The tight suction of your lips as you bob your head sends jolts of pleasure through his body.

Bucky's fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements. "Yes, baby," he growls. "Take me deeper."

You comply, relaxing your throat to take more of his length. Bucky feels the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and he hisses in pleasure. Your gag reflex kicks in, causing you to sputter and drool. Saliva drips down his shaft, making obscene wet sounds as you continue to work him with your mouth.

"Fuck, you're making such a mess," Bucky groans, watching as your head bobs up and down in his lap. "Such a perfect little cocksucker."

He’s watched a lot of porn since his divorce, and even more these past weeks in the middle of the night in this truck, and this is so much better, but surpassing even his own expectations. Too long since he’d been with a woman.

“Take me deeper." Bucky's grip tightens as he guides you further down his shaft. Your throat constricts around him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He can feel every swallow, every twitch of your tongue as you struggle to accommodate his girth.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips bucking slightly. "Swallow all of me."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag around him, but you don't pull away. Instead, you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder. Saliva continues to pool at the corners of your mouth, trickling down his length in glistening rivulets.

The sight of you, lips stretched wide and chin slick with spit, is almost too much for Bucky to bear. He watches, transfixed, as your head bobs up and down, your tongue swirling around his tip before diving back in. Your lips stretch wide around his girth, glistening with spit and precum.

Your nose brushes against his pelvis as you swallow around him, throat constricting deliciously. He feels the vibrations of your muffled moan around his shaft and it sends sparks of pleasure up his spine.

"Fuck," he growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. That, baby."

The pleasure builds, coiling tighter in Bucky's core with each bob of your head. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want to finish like this. Not when there's so much more he wants to do to you.

With a growl, he tugs your hair, pulling you off his cock. You gasp for air, lips swollen and glistening, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you to him. The sight nearly undoes him.

"Stand up," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

You comply, awkward and shaky on your feet in the confined space of the truck cab. Bucky's hands go to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings.

"These need to come off. Now."

You hesitate for just a moment, but the fire in Bucky's eyes brooks no argument. You shimmy them down with Bucky’s rough help, and true to what he said, you’re now fully naked and exposed to him. His smile is pleased, possessive, predatory as you sit back down on the seat of the cab.

Bucky's eyes rake over your newly exposed form, drinking in every curve and contour. He loves the sight of your pussy, bare, a thatch of curls, waiting and glistening with arousal. He licks his lips, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with lust. "So wet and ready for me already."

His hand slides up your thigh, fingers ghosting over your slick folds. You shiver at his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Please," you whisper, voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Please what, baby?"

You squirm under his intense gaze, cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I... I want you to touch me."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than touch you," Bucky growls, suddenly pulling you into his lap. You gasp as you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. "I'm going to ruin you."

His fingers find your clit, circling it with firm, deliberate strokes. You arch into his touch, a breathy moan escaping your lips. Bucky's other hand comes up to cup your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

"That's it," he growls in your ear. "Let me hear how much you want this."

You whimper, grinding down against his fingers. Your head falls back against his shoulder, exposing the long line of your neck. Bucky takes advantage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

His fingers move lower, teasing your entrance. You're so wet, his digits slide in easily, and you cry out at the sudden intrusion.

"Fuck, you're tight," Bucky groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You're panting now, rocking your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. The cab of the truck is filled with the obscene sounds of your wet pussy and your desperate moans.

Bucky's fingers work you relentlessly, curling and stroking inside you as his thumb circles your clit. You're writhing in his lap, gasping and moaning as pleasure builds.

"Ride my fingers, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

"Bucky," you gasp, "I'm so close..."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curl inside you.

"Please," you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder again. "I need more."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Roughly, he pinches your nipple, making you jerk and cry out.

Bucky's skilled fingers continue their relentless assault, pumping in and out of your dripping pussy while his thumb works your clit. Your body trembles, teetering on the edge of release.

"You want more?" he taunts, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I'll give you more."

Suddenly, he adds a third finger, stretching you further. The additional fullness makes you gasp, your back arching as he drives his fingers deeper. His other hand leaves your breast, sliding down to spread your legs wider.

"Look at how wet you are," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Your pussy's practically weeping for me."

His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand.

"I can feel how close you are,” he growls in your ear. “Your little cunt is clenching around my fingers."

His other hand returns to roughly knead your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple. The dual sensations send sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. You're trembling in his lap, right on the edge of release.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, your hips rocking desperately against his hand.

"Please what?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me what you need."

"I need to come," you gasp. "Please, make me come."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Oh, I'll make you come alright. I'll make you fucking gush for me."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as his fingers curl inside you, seeking that special spot. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching. Bucky's fingers continue to work you relentlessly, curling and stroking that spongy spot inside you as his thumb applies insistent pressure to your throbbing clit. He builds and builds his ministrations until you're a trembling, whimpering and writhing mess in his lap.

"Fucking perfect," he praises in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Your desperate grinding is torturous to his cock, and he could explode just from rutting against you like this.

But Bucky doesn't let up. If anything, he increases the pressure, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a frantic pace.

"Don't stop," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Keep going. I know you've got more in you."

You're gasping, your hips jerking erratically, and then suddenly the orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and there’s a surge of hunger that spurs him on. Your back arches sharply, pressing your breasts into his rough palms as you cry out, your voice echoing in the confined space of the truck cab.

Bucky only intensifies his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, harder, curling to hit that spot inside you with unerring accuracy. He’s seeking even more, pushing you impossibly higher, your body trembling uncontrollably in his lap.

"Oh god, oh god," you whimper and strain.

And still he works your body.

You try and squirm away, but he’s so much stronger than you, he easily keeps you in his lap. He moves his other hand down to your pussy so his right can focus fully on fucking in and out of your hole to molest your g-spot while his left zeroes in and demands more of your clit.

And then you cry for him from both ends, a sob escaping your mouth as your pussy gushes, spilling wetness over him, soaking his jeans and the seat beneath.

You slump, slack in his arms, but try to lean and move away and off his lap.

Bucky laughs, triumphant, and wraps his arm around your waist to keep you pressed to him. He presses a hot kiss to your neck. His other hand wipes the wetness over your thigh, making more of a mess.

“You’ve never squirted before, have you, baby?” he speaks low, directly into your ear.

“No,” you sniffle.

He nips the lobe of your ear and turns your head to face him. “Aw, did I make you cry?”

You close your eyes, and more tears trickle down your cheeks.

He slowly licks a stripe up your cheek, relishing the salty taste of your tears. It makes his cock twitch.

“I wonder what other firsts we can tick off for you.”

You shiver, and he squeezes around your middle. “It was overwhelming, wasn’t it?” he asks, and you nod, eyes still closed.

He kisses your cheek, and you let out a shuddery breath.

“But it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

You open your eyes and bite your lip, then a small nod.

“Such a pretty slut for me,” he praises, and then he’s plundering your mouth again, and you turn your torso more to him. He plays more with the wet mess of gush and slick over your thighs.

Bucky sears your lips with his mouth, his tongue delving deep as he tastes you. You whimper into the kiss, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. His hands roam your body, kneading your breasts, trailing down your sides, gripping your hips.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he sucks and nips at your pulse point. His stubble scratches deliciously against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs against your skin. "I could devour you all night."

His words make you shudder, and his chest rumbles in approval. Bucky's hands continue their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping between your thighs to tease your still-sensitive folds.

You gasp as his fingers brush your clit, oversensitive and swollen. He chuckles darkly, circling the bundle of nerves with feather-light touches that have you squirming again in his lap.

Bucky's hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he maneuvers you in the cramped space of the truck cab. "On your knees," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I want you on your knees for me."

You comply, your body still trembling from your intense orgasms. The leather seat is cool against your flushed skin as you position yourself on all fours, facing the passenger side door. Bucky's large hands run down your spine, making you shiver. He runs his hands over the curve of your hips, down to your thighs, spreading them wider.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "So eager for my cock."

You whimper in response, pushing your hips back towards him. Bucky chuckles darkly, one hand coming down in a sharp smack on your ass. The sound echoes in the cab, and you gasp.

"Patience, baby," he teases, soothing the flesh he just spanked.

Bucky's hands knead your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to get a better view of your glistening folds.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "And all mine for the night."

He positions himself behind you. His cock, hard and thick, brushes against your inner thigh. You shudder in anticipation. He groans behind you, and then he pushes the blunt head, angry head of his cock against your entrance.

"You ready?" he asks, teasing you with just the tip.

You whimper, pressing back against him. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky grips your hips, pulling you back slightly. The head of his cock teases your entrance, sliding through your slick folds. You moan, pressing back against him, silently begging for more.

"Eager little slut," he chuckles darkly. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

Without further warning, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Fuck," Bucky groans, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight.”

Bucky's hands control your hips, squeezing tightly as he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force of his thrusts rocks you forward, and you have to brace yourself against the passenger door to keep from hitting your head.

"Take my cock like the good little slut you are," he snarls.

Bucky leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he continues to pound into you. One hand snakes around to grope your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The other slides down to rub circles on your clit.

"You like that, don't you?" he pants in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Like being used like a cheap whore in the back of a truck?"

You whimper in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts. The angle allows him to hit spots deeper inside you, drawing a groan from his chest. Has he ever been this deep in such a perfect pussy?

"Bucky," you gasp, "oh god, Bucky..."

"That's right, baby," Bucky growls, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly. "Say my name. Let me hear how much you love my cock."

He reaches around to the front of your pussy, fingers work your clit faster, matching the punishing pace of his thrusts. You're trembling beneath him, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. The truck rocks with the force of his movements, the amber lights still flashing outside, casting an eerie glow over your writhing bodies.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Bucky groans, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me. Such a perfect little fuck toy."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and he loves the way his words affect you as much as his actions do.

Bucky's other hand leaves your hip, sliding up to wrap around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, just holds you there, a silent threat that sends your heart racing, and he loves feeling how your pulse jumped at that.

"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Gonna cream on my cock?”

You nod frantically, evidently unable to form words as he keeps pouring and overwhelming you with pleasure.

"Answer me," he demands, tightening his grip ever so slightly on your throat.

"Yes!" you gasp out. "Yes, I'm gonna come for you!"

"That's it," he growls, tightening his grip on your throat just slightly. "Let go. Come apart on my fat cock."

His words push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your inner walls clenching around him as you cry out his name. Bucky groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy milks his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his thrusts becoming erratic. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed.

You both stay there for a moment, panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. Bucky's hand releases your throat, sliding down to rest on your heaving chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, then slowly pulls out, eliciting a whimper from you at the loss.

He brings his hand down to your wet, messy folds, and you twitch at the feel of his fingers, clearly oversensitive. He hums, collecting some of the mixed spend slipping out of you, and he rubs it over your lower back. He doesn’t want you to forget what a dirty girl you’ve been for him.

Bucky helps you sit back up, pulling you onto his lap once more. You're both sticky with sweat and other fluids, the air in the truck cab heavy with the scent of sex. He brushes your hair back from your face, his touch gentle after the roughness of your encounter.

"You did so well, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Such a good girl for me."

You shiver at his praise, nestling closer to his broad chest, your naked form cocooning against him, still fully clothed, only his cock ever coming unsheathed during all of that. He’s edging on a little too warm, but the coolness of the middle of the night helps. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him. For a moment, there's just the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal and the faint hum of the truck's engine.

"We should probably get cleaned up," you say after a while, your voice slightly hoarse.

Bucky chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Probably," he agrees, but makes no move to let you go. Instead, his hand trails down your spine, making you arch into him. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby. The night's still young, and I've got plans for you."

You blink up at him, and he ducks in to peck at your lips.

“Let me just take another round of the lot, and then I’ll kiss you stupid, eat you out, and fuck you again.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he stops you with a quick kiss. He smiles when he pulls away and sees your eyes are falling hazy again. He strokes his hand up and down your spine, “Don’t worry, baby, you can stay right here in my lap while we drive.”

He leaves no room for protest, pulls the truck into gear, and goes for another round, looking forward to the rest of his shift.

Follow Up Piece: CAMARADERIE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

Hi. Still with me? We made it!

I doubt the person who does this across the street from my window five nights a week is anything close to Bucky, but true story, someone's in this truck with the yellow flashing lights, and my mind wants it to be a dirty Bucky that I'd make the unwise decision to jump into a cab with.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #hotbuckysummer2024 #babb2023 #female reader #aspen wrote something #deliciously debauched labor day weekend

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

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VICTORS SPOILS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

warnings: obsession, following/stalking, creepy behaviour, naive/younger reader, age gap, (reader is 19 and finnick's around 25), non-con touching and kissing, manipulation, bj mentions/insinuations, sex mentions, prostitution mentions, finnick lowkey preying on you - descriptions of brown reader (i was self indulgent since i’m indian 😁) condescending/nit picking mother and pushy parents!

summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

a/n: ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!! HERES A GIFT FROM ME TO YOU ❤️GUESS WHO MADE HER OWN LITTLE HEADER GAHH!! i tried my bestttt - ive been away for a littleeee!! sorry babes <33 it was like 3am and i cooked this up in my head before opening my brewing pot (notes app) and jotting it down - NOT PROOFREAD

the hall was so loud.

they always were at capitol parties. your mother and father always dragged you along, stating that a young lady should be getting out, meeting people, friends, becoming well versed and established in the capitol. and that they wouldn’t always be here. “you need to learn to be alone, fend for yourself and stand your ground. how are you gonna do that if you’re always trying to keep to yourself dear?” your mother sweetly smiled as she looked over you, “i think you still have time to change that dress, not the most flattering sweetie.”

you scoffed as she walked away ever so elegantly. you looked over yourself in the mirror, the green dress was gorgeous, to you at least. but the blue dress your mother had chosen was breath-taking, as much as you hated to agree with her opinion. so you bit your tongue and put the chosen dress on.

mother knows best right?

the sun was setting with an especially beautiful array of colours to which you figured no one would really notice you were gone if they were all focused on something else. there was probably a screen upstairs which you could watch something on. a few things to eat and drink then you’d head up there.

finnick was glancing over to you the whole night. you’d worn blue, and he’d taken it as an ode to him. you hadn’t looked over at him yet but your leaving of the party seemed like an invitation to him to finally introduce himself.

as you settled down on the plush couch you felt all your tensions melt away. but finnick wouldn’t leave you alone for long. “i’m sorry i didn’t know this was occupied.” finnick looked sad and you had no clue why, so being as nice as you are had you opening the room in invitation to him. “no, no! i just wanted to get away from the party. you’re welcome to sit with me finnick.” it felt odd to you for some reason, calling him by his name as if he was a friend. you’d only ever seen him through screens and from afar yet he looked as amazing as always.

“are you sure?” you nodded and smiled, moving down the couch to make room for him. he sat down, respectful of your space. he looked drained and you felt the same way. “tired of the party?” you asked as he smiled and nodded, “a lot of people asking a lot of questions.” you spoke, “everyone has something to say or ask. my dad told me he got three men asking for my hand. we haven’t even been here for two hours. it’s like being in a room with vultures. and if i do accept i’ll just be, nothing. someone stuck to the side of some ugly guy who just wants a pretty face.” you didn’t know what it was about him but you felt as if you could tell him anything.

and he sat, and listened. nodding his head and adding it where appropriate. it felt, nice. having someone actually listen to what you said rather than just asking what you were wearing. he was nothing like what you expected. you’d heard the whispers. that he was a playboy, he was with and had been with multiple women and men over the years. and that he liked it, the gifts, the people, the uhm, other aspects.

“but you, i’m sure you have people to meet, scope out.” you wanted to curl up and die as soon as the words left your mouth. “no! oh my god, i do not mean it like that. you- i- you should not feel ashamed of what you like. i am so sorry- i didn’t mean to imply-” god would you stop droning on? finnick pressed his lips into a thin line, “hey it’s okay. you’re fine. in all honestly, i know everyone has mis-conceptions of me.” you took his place in attentive listening as he explained the truth.

the threats, the people pawing at him, him being sold from fourteen.

you were crying. it all sounded unbelievable and unbearable for someone to go through at such a young age, his life was ruined all because he was pretty, desirable. no child should even have to think of such things let alone experience them. and rather than you comforting him, he was sitting with his arms around you. he was too good to be true.

“i- no i’m so sorry that happened to you finnick. i had no clue, no one does. you are such an amazing person, from the little time i’ve known you. you don’t deserve any of this. how could you get away from this? we could- we could expose snow we could-” finnick cut you off with teary eyes, “there’s nothing we can do. trust me, if there was i would have tried. but i think, if i got married perhaps. i’d have a reason to stay away from the captiol. we’d live in district four, in peace.”

the idea was pretty decent, you’d give him that. and you couldn’t help your heart running a little faster at the prospect of potentially marrying him. you were already fast friends, at least you’d marry a friend? even if he potentially loved someone else or you loved another.

“what if- if you married me?”

he’d hoped you’d say that.

“you’d do that for me? seriously?” finnick faked shock as you nodded, “we’re friends, i’d much rather marry you than anyone else here to be honest. we could be happy.” you smiled as he wiped away his last tear. “y/n, that’s an amazing idea.”

your wedding was marvellous.

your parents pushed out buck after buck, no expense spared for their little girl. as if they actually cared for you. your wedding dress was white and pristine, courtesy of snow. your brown hair in curls and your brown skin glistening. but you added blue accents for finnick, or you thought you did. it’s not like he pushed for you to wear the things he bought by incessantly reminding the makeup artists and helpers that you were marrying the finnick odair, his wife deserved nothing but the best.

you stood infront of a friend, smiling, happy to be marrying a kind soul.

he stood in front of the object of his affection, his desire and love.

in the first few weeks you were undeniably happy, finnick was as sweet as ever and respected you. it was your best outcome. but overtime you seemed to notice changes in his behaviour. when you’d want to go out into town for dinner he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve.

“there’s roadworks towards your favourite restaurant honey. maybe another time?”

“apparently they’re all booked out, maybe in a few weeks time?”

“wouldn’t you rather have a home-cooked meal? i made your favourite sweetheart.”

it began to annoy after the sixth time. “it can’t always be busy can it? we use to go all the time, and it’s not like they’d refuse you finnick. what’s going on?”

“i give you everything you could ever want. why the hell do you want to go out so much? am i not enough? are you- are you seeing someone?” finnick slumped in his seat.

your eyes widened as you rushed over to him, settling on your knees as your hands were placed on his thighs, “finnick how could you say such a thing? i would never do that to you. i swear there’s nothing going on, i just, i’m bored. i’d like to go out with you, explore your district with you, meet new people with you.” finnicks eyes burnt into yours. this is certainly not how he first wanted to see you on your knees, but at least you were whining.

“yeah? you like me? you promise there’s nothing going on?” you nodded dumbly, “yes yes! nothing i promise.” finnick looked down at your hands in his lap, “how do i know you’re not lying?” your hands were on his knees as you straightened your back, coming closer to his eye level, “i promise finnick. you are my husband, i’m with you. i’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

finnick was fighting off every muscle in his cheeks to not start grinning whilst the sad look on his face was breaking your heart, “yeah? anything?” oh this was going to be good. your cheeks were flushed as you heard the words come of out his mouth, “undo my belt sweetheart, show me how much you mean it.” wavering hands hovered over his belt buckle as finnick relaxed into his seat, it couldn’t get better than this right?

wrong.

every time you asked to go out, to meet a friend, to go to the capitol he’d always sulk. and the night would end with you on your knees, him on his to make you forget, or the two of you tangled in sheets.

finnick was finally happy, he had the girl of his dreams after such a long period of sadness, of exploitation and terror. fake smiles and lingering eyes.

he finally got something out of the games.

and his gift?

the victors spoils.

#dark!finnick odair x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader #hunger games x reader

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wandanatsgf · 9 months ago

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Sugar, Sugar Part 1

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After losing your job, you are desperate to come up with some money. Your best friend Kate signs you up for a sugar baby app where you meet Wanda and Natasha, who eventually become your sugar mommies.

Authors Note: I've been reading so many sugar mommy!wandanat x reader fics that I wanted to make one myself. I know the beginning is a bit rough, but I'm just trying to set everything up. I promise it will get better!!!! There will also be plenty of smut in the upcoming chapters, this is just a warning for that now. And I plan on making many parts to this. I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2 Part 3

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you dramatically exclaim. You drape yourself across the old and slightly musty couch in your small two person apartment. Your work uniform rides up your body a little as you lay down, which you quickly pull down, covering yourself again. You pull your right arm over your eyes, trying to block out the light and the horrible day you just had.

Your best friend and roommate Kate laughs sympathetically at your dramatics. “I know getting fired sucks but there’s tons of ways to make money.” She moves your legs and sits down next to you, placing your legs on top of her.

“Like what?”

“Well you could mow lawns, dog sit, babysit, just until you find another job,” Kate suggests.

“I guess I could but I just don’t know if that would be able to cover my bills and let alone rent.”

“Well there is another thing you can try.” The tone in Kate's voice has you sitting up, removing your arm so you can look at her.

“You remember my friend Darcy that I told you about?”

“Yeah the super rich, successful one.”

“Well when she was in college she was a sugar baby,” Kate says before she cuts herself off to scold you. “And y/n don’t give me that look just hear me out!”

“Ok fine, keep talking.”

“Well she got a whole bunch of money from it. She was able to pay off her student loans and she had some money leftover that she invested and y’know now she’s rich and super successful and hot and amazing. But that wasn’t the point.” Kate shakes her head at herself, scolding herself for getting off topic like she always does. “Anyway maybe you should try being a sugar baby.”

“I don’t know Kate.” Sure this would be a great opportunity for you, if you find someone that is, but do you really want to use your body to get money?

“You could just look and see what’s out there. You don’t have to accept any sugar daddy or sugar mommy proposals,” Kate says and you’ve got to admit that she’s got a good point.

“Ok what the hell,” you say, agreeing.

“Let me just get the sugar baby app name from Darcy and we can do this.”

A few minutes later the app is downloaded on your phone. You feel nervous but also excited. This could be a way for you to not have to worry about money, at least for a while. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of.

“Ok it’s downloaded, let’s set it up.” The two of you create your profile and pretty soon you’re looking at sugar mommies and sugar daddies.

“What about this one?” You ask Kate. You pass her the phone, and from the look on her face you can tell that it’s a no go.

“Definitely not,” Kate says, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Why not?”

“I know you, and that’s not what you want.” You have to admit she is right, you don’t really want some 50 year old with a penchant for “parading his girls around” as he called it, but you’re desperate and he is the best looking person on there so far.

You continue to scroll through the men and women, none of them really catching your eye until you see the profile of a beautiful red haired girl and an equally beautiful auburn haired girl. You would recognize their faces anywhere, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the owners of the country's best security company.

“There’s no way this is real,” you say. “This has to be some sort of joke or something.” You pass her your phone and watch as her eyes go comically wide.

“There’s no way the Natasha Romanoff and the Wanda Maximoff are looking for a sugar baby,” you say. You practically scoff at the idea, but there’s still that little voice in your head that wonders if maybe the profile is real.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Kate says. She still has your phone in your hands and you watch as she types, until finally she stops.

“Katie what did you do?”

“I just messaged them,” Kate says innocently. You glance down at the message and it says, “Hi my name is y/n and I’d love to get to know you both and see if I’m what you’re looking for ;),”

“Did you have to add the wink Katie? They’re gonna think I’m like a whore or something now,” you whine.

“Oh relax you big baby. It’s fine. And besides maybe a whore is what they’re looking for,” Kate says, giving you a wink.

“Kate!” You exclaim. You lightly slap her on the arm.

“Owww y/n. You’re very feisty for such a tiny person.”

“Serves you right,” you mutter underneath your breath. The two of you continue to scroll through the app when you see a notification pop up.

Natasha and Wanda had replied to your message.

“Oh my god,” you say. You can feel yourself freaking out, even when you’re going into the texting part of the app and opening the message.

“Hi darling, we’d love to get to know you more too! We’re Natasha and Wanda, we’re both sugar mommies who are looking for a sugar baby to share. We work quite a bit, but we promise that we’ll still have time for you if things work out between us. Can’t wait to hear back from you,” the message reads. You show the message to Kate who responds with excitement.

But you can feel yourself freaking out on the inside even more now. However your doubts from earlier creep in and calm you down. There’s a big chance that this is just a catfish, but you still want to take the chance. Who wouldn’t want an opportunity to be with Natasha and Wanda?

“Help me come up with a response,” you tell the girl sitting next to you. After a few minutes of back and forth, the two of you come up with what you think is the perfect response.

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I’m y/n, a sugar baby who is currently in college trying to pay off my loans. I normally have plenty of time on my hands and would be able to be around whenever you need.”

You cringe at the last part of the message, which was all Kate’s idea, but clearly it worked because a few minutes later you have a text inviting you out to get some coffee tomorrow afternoon and you say yes.

“You have to come with me though, just in case it’s like a catfish or something,” you tell your best friend.

“Of course, I’ll sit in the cafe and just text me if you need me,” Kate says reassuring you.

The next day comes too quickly and before you know it you and Kate are sitting in the cafe waiting for Natasha and Wanda. You’re sitting at a table in the back, while Kate is sitting at a table across the room from you. The minutes seem to drag on forever, making you even more anxious than you already are. Everytime the bell above the door goes off, you glance up, hoping it’s one of the girls walking through. You’re just about to lose hope when you see Natasha and Wanda walk in. They look so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi Y/n,” Wanda says, being the first to greet you. She towers over you as she envelopes you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocate.

“Hi,” you say back. It comes out quieter than you meant it to. You can feel your cheeks heating up, but gladly both women ignore it.

“And hi I’m Natasha,” the red haired girl says. She also towers over you, but you like that about the two women. She also envelopes you into a hug. She smells like vanilla and smoke and it gives you a sense of comfort. The three of you sit down and the two women get straight to the point.

“So as you know we’re looking for a sugar baby,” Natasha says, her voice a low tone. “We just wanted to meet with you today to go over some things and see if we’d get along,” she explains.

“Ok that sounds good,” you agree.

“Have you ever been in a dynamic like this before?”

“No I haven’t,” you say, your blush coming back. You can feel your nerves getting worse as well as you fidget with a ring on your hand.

“It’s ok to be nervous baby, we won’t bite,” Wanda leans in to tell you. She places her hand on top of yours, stopping your fidgeting. She places her hand in yours, which you gladly hold.

“That’s alright, we’re pretty new to this too. But there are a couple of things we wanted to go over today. First, when do you have class?”

“Well Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have class until 11am, but besides that my days are wide open.” This answer makes Natasha smile, which in turn makes you smile.

“What is it that you need help with?” You appreciate that Natasha is getting straight to the point, it’s doing wonders at calming your nerves.

“Mostly rent and some bills. I, uh, just lost my job and it’s been hard to stay afloat.”

“Well that won’t be a problem now that we’re here,” Natasha tells you, sending you a wink. The action sends a blush across your face, turning it a shade of pink.

"I know this isn't exactly normal," Natasha says, "But we promise if today works out, which I think it will, we'll take care of you darling." Natasha's words make you smile. Normally you were never so shy around people, but the two women next to you really bring it out in you.

“Do you have any questions for us honey?” Wanda asks.

“Yes actually. What is it exactly that I would be doing?”

“You would keep us company, go to some company functions with us, and,” Natasha says, her voice dropping low as she says the next part, “have sex with us when we want it.”

“But obviously we would work up to that part,” Wanda adds cheerfully.

“Ok,” you say, taking all of that information in. You knew going into this that sex would be on the table, but it shocks you that these two beautiful women are wanting to do it with you.

“I’m sorry if this is a weird question, but aren’t the two of you together? What exactly do you need me for?”

“Yes we’re together sweetheart, but we’re not the most compatible in the bedroom.”

“What Wanda means is that we’re both pretty dominant and we need someone submissive to fulfill our needs,” Natasha says. Wanda slaps her on her arm and lightly scolds her, making you giggle.

“I can do that,” you say, letting both of them know that you want this. The thought of being submissive for both of them stirs a longing within you. You can feel a slight dampness in your panties and you cross your legs, hoping Wanda, who is still holding your hand, doesn’t notice. But of course she does.

“You already feeling a little needy, baby?” Wanda whispers, her cockiness coming out of nowhere, but god does it turn you on. Her lips ghost on the outer shell of your ear, causing your breathing to become ragged.

“Mhm,” you manage to get out.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy. I can’t wait to see just how needy I can make you,” Wanda says. She leans away from you, but not before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, making you go pink.

“Don’t kill the poor girl Wanda,” Natasha scolds.

“I can’t help it, she’s just so cute,” Wanda says, like you aren't there, which just turns you on even more.

“Yeah she is,” Natasha agrees.

You don’t know what to say, too absorbed in your own lust, when Natasha speaks again, snapping you out of it.

“Here are our phone numbers,” she says, slipping you a piece of paper. You take the pieces of paper and program their numbers into your phone and you give them your number and they do the same.

“We’ll text you tomorrow to work out the details and set up a contract, assuming you still want to do this?” Wanda questions.

“I do,” you reassure her.

“Then we’ll talk to you tomorrow, detka,” Wanda says. The two women get up, both hugging you goodbye. You watch the two women walk out, having forgotten that Kate was also at the cafe until she comes up to you.

“Oh my god,” Kate says.

“I know,” is all you say.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get two sugar mommies.”

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #marvel #mcu #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sugar mommy!wanda #sugar mommy!natasha #scarlet witch x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #wanda x reader smut #natasha x reader smut

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queen-of-deans-booty · 19 days ago

Text

Nice To Nerf You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: When a new neighbor moves in across from you, you two start what looks to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Square Filled: kiss cam (2020) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: i came across this video on tiktok and it's so wholesome and cute. thus this fic! here is the video!

The best thing about living in the apartment at the end of the hallway is that you’re far enough away from the other neighbors that you hear them. There is an apartment right across from you and one to your right which is at the very end. To your left is the stairwell as well as one to the right of the apartment across from you. So, besides those two apartments, there are stairs separating you from everyone else.

No one lives in the apartment across from you, and you’re pretty sure the person to your right is dead. You never hear him inside his place, and he never comes out. He must have his groceries delivered because you once saw someone drop them off, and the next hours or so, they were gone. It’s been quiet for nearly a year, and you hope it stays that way.

You’re sitting at your desk at work playing a game on your phone when you get a notification from your Ring doorbell. Movement. Out of curiosity, you open the app to see who might be in front of your place. Maybe it’s your Amazon package you’ve been impatiently waiting for.

It’s not Amazon, but it is a man you’ve never seen before. He’s bringing boxes into the apartment across from you.

“Huh, someone finally moved in,” you say.

“Is he hot?” your coworker who sits next to you, asks.

“I don’t know. All I see is back. It’s a hot back.”

“Let me see.”

Emily scoots her chair closer to you, and you angle your phone to show her. Her eyes widen and a smile breaks out on her face.

“Hubba hubba. That guy is hot.”

You look at your phone to see the man facing your camera. Hot doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s not too bulky but not too lean, he has a trimmed beard, he’s tan, and he has cute bow legs. He’s going to be your neighbor? A taller man with shaggy hair steps out of the apartment and grabs the last box to bring inside.

“There’s two of them,” you smirk.

“Lucky bitch. My neighbors are either too old, married, or children.”

You’ve never wanted to get home as much as you do than in this moment. At the end of the workday, you practically jog to your car. You check the Ring Doorbell and see that the hallway is cleared of all boxes which means he’s all moved in, at least for now. You start your car and open your music app to pick a playlist when you get a notification from Ring.

You open the app to see the mysterious stranger standing in front of your door holding a Nerf gun. You press the button that allows you to talk to whoever is at the door. The stranger looks even more beautiful up close.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. My name is Dean Winchester, and I just moved in across the hall. I have this tradition where I play Nerf wars with my neighbors. I’m just going to leave this here. Feel free to shoot me at any time.”

Dean sets the Nerf gun on the ground and walks to his door. He waves goodbye before entering his apartment. Okay, that’s a new one. It’s such a wholesome way to get to know your neighbors, so you’re not not liking it. You try not to speed the rest of the way home, and the Nerf gun is on the ground where Dean left it.

“This is so weird,” you mutter with a smile.

You pick up the gun and walk inside your apartment. As weird as this is, this is going to be fun. You’re very competitive. It’s Friday which means you can sleep in tomorrow because you don’t have to go back to work until Monday. You have forgotten about the Nerf gun until you see it on your kitchen counter. You walk over to the door and peer through the peephole, but there is nothing in the hallway.

You walk away from the door with a smirk, already forming a plan inside your head on how to get Dean. A few hours later, you’re sitting at your computer playing some games when you get a notification from Ring about movement at your front door. You open the app and see Dean approaching his door. You jump out of your seat and grab your Nerf gun on your way to the door.

There’s no better way to do this than to just go all in. You yank the door open and start shooting at him, and he jumps from the sudden intrusion. He finches back as if the bullets actually hurt, and he struggles to get his key in the door.

“Surrender! I’ve won this round!” you laugh and continue to shoot him.

He manages to pry his door open and grabs the Nerf gun sitting by his door. He turns and shoots at you but misses both times. You jump back with another laugh and run back into your apartment. Not only is Dean shocked at how beautiful you are, but he’s also surprised he actually got you to participate. Usually, his neighbors aren’t into this kind of thing.

You lost most of your bullets but it was worth it. He can hear your laughter come from inside your apartment, and he knows you’re watching him from your Ring doorbell.

“Alright,” he laughs. “Game on, sweetheart.”

Every time you and Dean get home, the other starts shooting. You bought a bunch of bullets from Amazon to keep your supply stocked, but you also grabbed the strays from your battles. This has been going on for weeks, and it’s honestly the highlight of your day. You’ve got some letters from the neighbor to your right about the noise, but you don’t think you’re being that loud. Plus, the police haven’t been called yet so you’re going to continue to have fun with Dean. One Friday night, you leave the apartment with your trash in hand. The only reason you’re going out is because you know Dean has his brother over.

You don’t think he’d interrupt his evening with his brother to get you, but you’re about to be proven wrong.

Dean’s door opens and he steps into the hallway with a gun in hand.

“Y/N!”

You barely have time to turn around before he’s shooting at you. You squeal and try to run away but think better of it and turn back to Dean. You swing the trash bag around to try and deflect some of the bullets, but most of them hit you. Dean jumps back into his apartment when you run after him.

“Not fair, Winchester! I’m unarmed,” you laugh.

Dean opens the door but holds up one hand to show you he’s calling a truce right now.

“If I win this next round, you gotta go on a date with me.”

“What if I win?”

He smirks and leans against the doorframe. “You’re not gonna win.”

“You’re going to feel bad when I do.” You turn to leave when Dean shoots your ass. “Oh, it’s on!”

You take the trash out and are on your way back when you spot Dean in front of the elevator when it opens. You didn't know that the next round would happen now.

“No, this isn’t fair!” you squeal.

He lunges at you but you dodge his attempts to hit you. You take off running down the hallway while laughing, and he runs after you. The logical thing would be to go inside your apartment, but you’re not thinking clearly. All you’re thinking about is getting the hell away from Dean. The first thing that pops into your head is to go inside his apartment.

“Why are you in my apartment?” he laughs. He opens the door and walks inside. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Truce, Dean,” you laugh.

“Okay, fine.”

You come out of hiding. “Really?”

Dean smirks and shoots you once in the stomach. “Nope. I win.”

“No, you cheated! That’s not fair!”

“There were no rules, sweetheart. So, I guess I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven for dinner. Sounds good?”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s making it so damn hard to be mad. Not like you were ever mad.

“Fine. Seven.”

Dean watches you enter your apartment with a smile. He can’t wait for tomorrow night. It’s all that’s going to be on both of your minds. Tomorrow comes faster than you think, and you’re just about ready for the date. You’re putting the finishing touches on your hair when you get a notification from Ring.

“Hey, I’m almost ready. I’ll be out in a minute,” you say into the app.

“I told you I was going to win,” he smirks.

You shake your head with a smile and pin up the last piece of hair. You’re dressed in a pastel pink silk shirt with black jeans that don’t look like jeans. You barely have on any makeup because it’s hot and you don’t want it to melt under the humidity. You grab your purse and join Dean in the hallway who takes a step back from shock at how good you look.

“You look… beautiful. Wow.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Winchester,” you smile. “Where are going?”

“Somewhere woodsy.”

“I wore my good silk for this. Should I change?”

“We won’t be getting out of the car.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead the way when you feel something hit your back. You gasp and turn to see Dean holding a smaller Nerf gun he must have been hiding in his jacket pocket. You lunge at him to playfully fight when Dean puts his hands up in defense.

“Shh, shh.” He points to the neighbor at the end of the hallway with his gun. “This neighbor fucking hates us.”

“He’s written me so many letters about us,” you chuckle.

“That wasn’t him. That was me.”

“You bitch,” you laugh.

Dean escorts you to the parking garage where a beautiful ‘67 Impala is. Normally, your dates are spent in a movie theater, a restaurant, or someone’s house. Never have you ever gotten takeout food and eaten it on a cliff overlooking the city. Dean is a lot of things but boring isn’t one of them. He’s nothing like your ex-boyfriends, but maybe that’s a good thing.

“So, I’m assuming that tall man I see you with is your brother?”

“Yeah. His name is Sam. We’re retired. He has a family while I’m just trying to keep busy.”

“Retired? You can’t be more than thirty-five. What did you do before?”

“Thirty-seven, actually. We traveled the country and helped people who needed it. You know, pests and stuff like that. We got a hefty inheritance from our family, so we are able to live on that.”

“You don’t have any hobbies or anything?” you ask and take a bite of food.

“I like working on cars. I got a job as a mechanic. What about you?”

“I work at a law firm as a criminal attorney. Or I’m trying to be one. I’m still in my internship at the firm. You know, shadowing people and getting to know the ropes. I just got my degree even at thirty-four.”

“It’s never too late to pursue your dreams.”

“You got that right.”

This date has been more interesting than any of the ones you’ve been on in the past because of Dean. You connect more with him than you have in all of your relationships. The date only lasts an hour, and Dean takes you back home. It’s nice living across the hallway from your date, but you hope the relationship doesn’t tank. It’ll suck if you have to see him when there is heartbreak.

“That was fun,” Dean grins.

“It was. I had a good time with you.”

You stand in front of your Ring camera and look up at Dean through your lashes. A moment passes before Dean pulls you in by your waist. He doesn’t have to ask permission to kiss you because you’re already leaning in. Sparks fly is such a cliche thing but it’s exactly what’s happening. Something awakens inside of you, something you’ve never felt before.

Part of you is glad you did this in front of your Ring camera so that you can replay this moment over and over again.

Though, the night wouldn’t be complete without a bit of sneaky fun. As you’re kissing him, you carefully take out the small Nerf gun you stored in your purse for this exact moment. You aim at his chest and fire, and he freezes when he feels the foam bullet. He pulls away with a shocked look on his face.

“You’re not winning the next round.”

Dean can’t help but laugh. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes.”

He kisses you once more before opening his door for you. You can see this relationship lasting a long, long time.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural fiction #supernatural fan fiction

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vanteguccir · 9 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗚𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗫𝗬 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

　　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt has a crush on Y/N, an influencer extremely well-known in the USA, but when she goes to the Zach Sang Show, Matt discovers that she also has a crush on him. When the two meet at a party, how will Matt react?

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Hi beautiful people! I'm Zach, and that is Dan, and welcome to the studio for the first time after many requests, Y/N!" Zach began with his standard intro, the camera moving away from him and onto Y/N, who was sitting comfortably on the couch facing her microphone.

"Hii, wow... I've lost count of how many nights I've spent hours watching your show, Zach, so being here is an honor! Thank you so much for having me." Y/N spoke with a smile on her face, her eyes shining with excitement.

"It's amazing to have you here too. Believe me, the honor is ours." Zach replied, smiling just as much. "But tell me, how is life? Crazy, I imagine." He asked with a smile, taking in Y/N's features.

"Don't remind me, literally crazy! As I have Instagram, Tiktok, and YouTube to manage and post content every day, at least in one, I haven't had time to stop much, you know?" Y/N spoke while gesturing with her hands. "But it's been incredible. Over the past five years, I've loved every moment of it."

"I can only imagine, especially since you have a knack for fashion too, right? I see you a lot at events." Zach commented, taking a sip of his water.

"Yes, exactly. My content is a little bit of everything: humor, fashion, relationships, makeup, Q&A, day-to-day life, etc. I like this really mixed stuff." The girl let out a laugh when she finished.

"Yes, I think that's what attracts so many audiences to you too, right? You have subjects that cover all audiences." Zach commented, receiving a nod from the influencer. "And tell me a little about how it all started, from the beginning."

"Well, I've always been a person who loved to talk, my friends at school joked that if I sat next to an unknown person for ten minutes, within the first minute I would come up with a random topic and start a conversation." Y/N smiled when she heard Zach comment that that was something super interesting and traits of an extroverted person. "Plus, I've always liked having an audience and social media. I had Musical.ly many years ago, where I posted short makeup and hair videos."

"Wow, Musical.ly, I completely forgot it existed." Dan commented, laughing along with the other two.

"Yes, it looks like it was a crazy dream." Zach nodded, glancing briefly at Dan before returning his gaze to Y/N. "I saw some videos from that time. You once mentioned that you took makeup courses, right?"

"Yes, I took makeup courses at Make-up Forever Academy while I was at school. It's always been my favorite hobby." Y/N said, as she stirred her Starbucks coffee cup, her drink still warm. "And on Musical.ly, I only posted that, but over time, the app lost popularity, and people started looking for me on Instagram. At the time, my Instagram was pretty empty, I didn't post almost anything there, just some also makeup things. But then, I needed to change that since Instagram gave me a lot more tools to create more expansive content. It was the moment that I completely lost my shyness with cameras, you know? That's when I started talking about other things besides makeup and hair, and the audience grew. Famous people started following me as well, I remember I panicked about that." She paused, laughing, accompanied by Zach, who was listening intently.

"And my followers started asking for a YouTube channel, where I could make longer videos and each one about something specific. I thought a lot about it, but I took courage and created my channel, and it totally exploded, almost all of my followers from Instagram started to follow me there, but on YouTube the number of people doubled."

"It caught the attention of the public who only used YouTube, right?" Zach commented, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly! And I was just with this two social medias for a few years, until I discovered Tiktok, that's when I discovered that it was like an improved Musical.ly, and that a lot of people made content just on it. I remember thinking: why not? I was already fully on the Internet, and it wouldn't hurt to have another social network. The audience continued to grow, and there were shares all the time, likes, and comments, and with that, we reached 16 million subscribers on YouTube and 6 million followers on Tiktok and Instagram." Y/N finished, her face showing a smile as she momentarily remembered her long journey there.

"Your history with the Internet is truly incredible, you are one of the biggest influencers in the United States and well known all over the world, having started at 15 years old and fighting to grow and gain your own space." Zach praised, clapping playfully as Y/N waved her hand like it was nothing, her face turning red in embarrassment. "But you mentioned a subject I wanted to bring up: celebrities." He said, laughing when he saw the girl take on a fearful look.

"Jesus, what are you going to say?" Y/N asked with a smile on her face, she had already opened up her life and tastes so much to her audience, that she knew she would definitely have said something about celebrities that she didn't remember at that moment, but that Zach would bring up.

"There was a video on Tiktok where you were answering a question from a fan, who had asked what your favorite YouTube channel and your celebrity crush were." Zach began, approaching the microphone to his face. Y/N widened her eyes, taking a sip of her drink to hide her expression, vaguely remembering the video in question. "And you answered that your favorite channel was the Sturniolo Triplets and that your celebrity crush was Matt Sturniolo, is that correct?"

"Oh my God." Y/N muttered, hiding her red cheeks in her hands. "Yes, it is." She let out a nervous laugh. "The triplets are super funny, I just love their content! I'm not going to lie, I've never missed a video of them. I saw that Chris came here this year, right? I think their journey with YouTube is incredible." She said, Zach nodding as he confirmed that Chris had been on the show recently.

"They really are incredible people. Their content is gold. But, is Matt still your crush?" He asked again, looking at her with a smile on his face.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Y/N asked as she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, he's still my crush. I mean, have you seen that man? He's hot, has an incredible sense of humor, and is kind! Just perfect, just no more than Harry Styles." She counted the characteristics mentioned with the fingers of her right hand, laughing when she mentioned the British singer, trying to take all attention away from her admission about her crush.

"Yeah, guys, it seems like if you're not Matt, or Harry, you don't enter Y/N's list." Zach joked, looking at the camera, receiving laughs from the other two there.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The triplets were lying on the sofa in their home, each in a corner of the space, while using their phones. Sounds of tiktoks and reels echoed through the walls.

Nick was on his tiktok, browsing his For You, watching the millions of edits that his fans made for them, some videos of other subjects appearing from time to time. The boy let out a laugh when he saw an edit of himself with clips taken from the last car video, double-clicking on the screen to give it a like before scrolling his thumb up, Y/N's voice suddenly sounding from his phone.

Nick took his thumb away from the screen momentarily, paying attention to what one of his favorite influencers was saying, smiling as he heard her tell a little about her history with social media.

His smile was replaced by wide eyes seconds later when the girl's comment about his channel with his brothers and about Matt sounded.

"What?" He asked loudly, catching the attention of Matt and Chris, who had confused looks on their faces.

"What what?" Chris asked, locking the screen of his phone and tossing it to the side.

Matt only looked up from his own phone screen momentarily, returning his attention to his Instagram feed.

"You know Y/N?" Nick asked, his eyes darting from Matt to Chris quickly.

"That super famous influencer that Matt has had a crush on for years? Yes." Chris agreed, nodding his head as he adjusted himself in his seat, receiving a slap on the arm from his brother, who lowered his cell the moment the girl's name left Nick's lips.

"She knows who we are, and not only that, she talked about us on Zach's show." The redhead said with wide eyes.

"Zach Sang?" Matt asked, receiving a nod from Nick, who got up and walked closer to his brothers, sitting between the two and raising his phone, increasing the screen brightness and volume before hitting play on the tiktok again.

The video was a compilation of the show's favorite moments with the influencer. The triplets watched in silence until they got to the part where Y/N talked about her channel, also confirming her crush on Matt. Chris quickly turned his face to Matt with his mouth open in shock.

"Matt, THE Y/N has a crush on you." Nick reinforced, pausing the video and turning to his brother, who had wide eyes as he looked at the phone that had Y/N's face on the screen, a disbelief look on his own face.

"That's crazy." He muttered, shaking his head in denial. "It's not possible that my longtime crush has a crush on me, too. That only happens in movies. Right?" Nick rolled his eyes at the comment.

"It might be crazy, but it's not a lie. She wouldn't talk about our channel and reveal her crush on you if it was a lie or a joke." Chris commented as he fixed the hood of his sweatshirt, earning a nod from Nick.

"Next week, there will be that huge and super chic party for the biggest influencers and YouTubers in the United States here in LA, and we received an invitation. I'm absolutely sure she will be there. It would be a great opportunity to make contact with other YouTubers and get to know her, maybe even ask her to participate in a video with us." Nick reminded his brothers of the invitation, locking his phone screen and looking at the two.

"Are you sure about that?" Matt asked, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Out of the three, he was the least fond of parties, although none of them were very fond of it either.

"It would be great for the channel, Matt." Chris reinforced, shrugging. "It wouldn't hurt to try. If we don't like it, we can leave right away. But meeting Y/N seems amazing to me right now, and it would be a great opportunity for you."

"Okay."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you guys sure about this?" Matt asked after turning off the key in the ignition, keeping his hands on the wheel as he looked ahead, his ears picking up the loud sound coming from the party.

"Matt, it's just going to be a test, okay? It's interesting for us to make more contacts." Nick responded from the backseat, resting his hands on the sides of the front seats as he looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for Matt to look back.

Matt looked up, focusing on Nick through the mirror, who had a neutral expression. The boy shifted his gaze to Chris beside him, who was already looking at him.

Chris offered a reassuring smile, taking his left hand to Matt's right shoulder, squeezing the area.

Matt exhaled deeply as he mentally prepared himself. It had been years since he had attended such a big party.

It didn't take long for the triplets to get out of the vehicle. Matt locked the doors before they started their walk to the mansion where the loud sound of pop music was coming from.

Nick quickly pulled from the pocket of his jeans the invitation he had received in the mail that stated his and his brothers' names on expensive-looking paper and beautiful writing, holding it ready to present to the security guards at the front.

After being granted entry, the three entered the house, stopping for a few seconds at the beginning of the living room while their eyes traveled over the people there, recognizing some of their social media.

The mansion was extremely chic, decorated with golden tones and diamond chandeliers, long marsala red curtains covered the huge windows and columns that resembled those of Greek temples were spread throughout the space, along with two staircases in each hemisphere of the room with wooden handrails and a red carpet that led upstairs.

Youtubers, influencers, and celebrities filled the space, talking or dancing, some drinking, dressed in extravagant and expensive clothes.

Chris surreptitiously pointed to a specific point, making his brothers look there.

"That's Y/N, right?" He asked, earning a nod from Nick.

To Matt, the earth seemed to have stopped spinning, and the world seemed to have become static. The celebrities in the room suddenly stopped, the sound became muffled, and the smell of drinks and perfume disappeared. His breathing seemed to catch, and his throat felt dry.

Y/N looked perfect, having opted for an all-silver outfit: a mid-length skirt with a thigh-high slit from Diesel draped in synthetic silver along with a white crop top also from Diesel adorned her body. A pair of thin silver high heels decorated her feet, complemented by a silver Diesel bag and jewelry in the same color.

She looked like she came out of one of those galaxy movies, but much prettier than its characters.

Matt could have watched her from afar for seconds or minutes, just admiring her beauty and every detail of herself, but it still seemed to be too quick for his liking. Nick woke him from his hypnosis with a weak slap to his chest, getting his attention.

"You definitely don't know how to disguise it." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Nick." Matt responded quickly, frowning and briefly looking at Y/N again, before turning to his brothers. "I'm going to get something to drink, are you coming?" He asked, needing a cold soda at that moment.

Chris nodded, answering for himself and Nick, following his middle brother to the bar that was in the separation between the kitchen and the living room.

The space was extremely chic, a circle-shaped bar with a gold colored counter decorated with details in yellow and navy blue tiles, giving an air of wealth. At the front there were stools with synthetic gold upholstery and at the back, after the space where the bartender circulated, there was a large circular and high table filled with all types of drinks, including the most expensive ones.

Matt leaned his hips against the counter, choosing not to sit down, and glanced briefly at the bartender.

Nick sat on the stool next to him and Chris sat next to Nick, the two starting a conversation about a subject that Matt didn't pay attention to, his attention focused on the people around him, or rather, on one specific person.

His blue eyes went back and forth to Y/N's silhouette, admiring her from afar as he wished to be by her side, accompanying her and being the person she was talking to.

The girl next to Y/N and who had been talking to her since the moment Matt entered the room walked away, saying something while blowing an air kiss to the influencer, who smiled in response and turned around, facing where Matt was, but not looking directly at him, running her eyes around the people while taking sips of her drink, probably alcoholic.

Matt took a deep breath as he gathered his courage, straightening up and starting to take long steps towards the girl, crossing the room and passing among the famous people there.

"Matt, what do you want to- Matt?" Nick began, turning to where Matt was and stopping mid-sentence when he saw that his brother was no longer there.

"He's on his way to get his pot of gold." Chris commented, poking Nick with the index finger of his left hand and pointing at Matt, who was already approaching Y/N.

The brunette stopped next to Y/N, turning so that he was also facing the people around and shoulder to shoulder with her, a few centimeters between them. His hands were in the front pockets of his jeans as he breathed slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

And then her voice sounded like it was the easiest thing she'd done all day. Her voice was silky in person, so inducing that it sent goosebumps across Matt's skin.

"You were working up the courage to say hi..." She lifts the glass, taking another sip, her lips shiny with gloss and bright red lipstick, her tongue escaping her mouth momentarily, licking the residue of the drink there. "Or would you just stare at me all night?" She turned around, facing him.

Matt almost choked on his own saliva as he heard Y/N confirm that not only had she noticed he was there, but she had also noticed that he had been looking at her this entire time. A weight settled in his chest. Perhaps it was shame or lust due to the way she said that without reservation.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You seemed quite engaged in your conversation." He made up an excuse, knowing full well that he could have gone to the girl from the moment he arrived, but his fear of what would happen held him back.

"Engaged? In a conversation about who here has the most money and fame?" Y/N threw back, furrowing her eyebrows.

Matt looked around them, stopping his eyes briefly on the girl who had previously spoken to Y/N and who was now watching the people with a gaze torn between judgment and desire. A loud laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head in denial, the pettiness of some people impressed him.

"For what it's worth, you're the only famous person here that interests me." Matt commented, his blue eyes focusing on Y/N's face, analyzing her closely. An expression of satisfaction came over his face as he saw a red color take over her cheeks.

"You flatter me, Matt." Y/N looks back at him, their eyes meeting for a few long seconds, before hers travel across Matt's face, mentally taking note of every detail she could notice in the few seconds.

The boy smiled arrogantly when he saw her eyes on him, receiving an eye roll in response.

"Do you like what you see?" He asked, his voice taking a deeper tone and his pupil dilating as his lips stretched into a smirk.

"Don't let it go to your head." Y/N responded as she scoffed playfully, allowing the beginning of a smirk to emerge on the right corner of her lip.

At that moment, Matt felt like he could do something, anything, that would make her smile like that again or smile a bigger smile. He thought of a million possibilities of what he could say to cause that reaction in her, longing to feel the butterflies in his stomach again.

"You look beautiful tonight." Matt praised, his blue eyes traveling over Y/N's body momentarily, returning to her eyes. "Not that you just look beautiful tonight. You always look beautiful. But today you..." The boy tried to justify, getting caught on his words. "Look perfect."

A sigh escaped his lips, an apologetic look taking over his eyes as his right hand scratched the back of his neck lightly, feeling like a complete idiot for getting tangled up in front of the girl he has a crush on.

"I'm sorry, this isn't how I pictured myself meeting you." He groaned, looking at the ground in shame, hoping something would surge and save him.

"So you imagined meeting me?" Y/N smiled, feeling arrogant. She bit her bottom lip, feeling smug as she watched Matt blush and his eyes widen. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful tonight, too." Y/N let out a low laugh, returning the previous compliment, running her tongue between her lips, wetting them as her eyes traveled over Matt, pausing lingeringly on his exposed collarbone with the tank top he was wearing, the necklaces that decorated his neck made her mouth water.

Before Matt could even open his mouth to answer her, the sound of footsteps approached, catching both their attention. Y/N tore her eyes away from Matt's blue ones and looked ahead, seeing the same girl from before approaching again, holding herself back from instantly rolling her eyes.

The boy realized that the conversation would change direction and that, perhaps, he would no longer be included in it. A subtle sigh escaped his lips, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans again, looking at Y/N briefly, realizing that she was already looking back.

"I'm sorry." She asked, pressing her painted lips into a thin line before a beautiful, wide smile replaced it. "Text me on Instagram. You will be my priority to respond." Y/N spoke before being gently pulled away by her "friend", turning her face back quickly and sending the brunette a wink before looking forward again.

Matt watched her from behind as her high-heeled legs took long, quick steps away from him, a goofy smile taking over his features. He would definitely send that text.

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tropes-and-tales · 1 month ago

Text

Opportunities

(Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

CW: Light angst; idiots in love; mutual pining.

Word Count: 3216

AN: This is a sequel to this, and it was requested by both @nuvoleincielo and @yyiikes

In the end, it’s exactly as Benny says. They are, after all, highly trained soldiers. They’ve been trained at all the skills necessary for subterfuge, and Pope kind of likes it — using those skills for good. For once.

The plan is this:

Benny and Will’s parents are snowbirds. They have a home in Maine and a home in Florida.

Lately, though, because of the mild winters, they’ve been spending more time in Maine.

But for the holidays, they plan to go to their Florida home. From the second week of December until after the New Year, their little cape tucked into the Maine interior, remote and overlooking a placid blue lake, will sit empty.

Technically, it can stay empty with no intervention. Their thermostat can be controlled from an app (Benny manages it for them), so there’s not much concern about the heat going out, pipes bursting, or the like.

But both you and Frankie don’t need to know that.

“My parents said you could have the place,” Will tells you all over beers one night. “Might be cool, having a holiday with actual snow.”

Which is how they sell it: a nearly free opportunity for a white Christmas for you and Pope and Frankie. You are currently low-contact with your family. Pope’s divorced parents are on either end of the country, and he finds that instead of pissing off one, it’s easier just to piss both off at the same time.

And Frankie? Well, Frankie is on his family’s proverbial shit list, so it’s best for him to just lay low.

Pope’s the one who sells it best, though. Separately, he approaches both you and Frankie. With you, he lays it on thick: how lonely the holidays are for him, how much he needs his best friend and his brother-in-arms. He sells it so well your eyes fill with tears, and your voice gets a watery edge as you throw your arm around his neck and tell him yes, of course you’ll spend the holidays with him and Frankie, anything he needs.

With Frankie, Pope takes a more staid approach. Plays morose. Just want to get away, he tells Frankie, and the man nods thoughtfully, says he’s there for him, says he’s never been to Maine and it might be nice.

The three of you drive up in Pope’s truck. It takes two long days on the road, and each time Pope glances over at where you’re settled between him and Frankie, he knows he’s doing the right thing.

Because your knee is always pressed against Frankie’s, and sometimes he catches the two of you touching—sweet little movements. Your head on his shoulder as you rest. His hand resting lightly on your knee. Fingers touching as you pass each other snacks from the rest stop, sour candies and chocolate bars and energy drinks.

Because Pope, if he had to guess, would say that neither of you are even aware of how touchy you are with each other. Stubborn, blind, stupid, or all three: neither of you seem aware of the goddamn sexual tension the two of you create, like two storm fronts pressing against each other and creating your own weather.

-----

Frankie is the one who first notices how wrong everything is. His gut has been pinging on a low frequency for the past two days, but he ignored it…and now?

Now you and Frankie are stranded in a little cape tucked into the Maine interior, remote and overlooking a placid blue lake. Pope unloaded his truck—his luggage, yours and Frankie’s luggage—then made a paltry excuse to drive into the nearest town for provisions. No backwards glance, and that was an hour ago.

Pope’s phone goes straight to voicemail each time Frankie tries him. His texts are delivered, then read, then ignored. Same for Benny, then Will.

You notice Frankie’s discomfort first, but then you start to put it together. You note the time, make a joke about Pope getting lost. Then you open up the refrigerator and see that it is fully stocked: orange juice and milk, eggs, fresh fruit and vegetables. A pack of chicken breasts, two cod loins wrapped in butcher paper. Butter, cheese, creamer for coffee. You frown at the largess, shut the door gently, then open up the freezer.

More food. Two more packs of chicken, frozen ground beef, frozen pasta, frozen waffles. Two cakes, the kind that you set out on the counter to thaw, then eat.

You frown deeper, check the pantry, and it’s stuffed with staples too. Fresh bread. Muffins. A pound…no, five pounds of whole bean coffee, ready for the grinder.

“Why did Santi go into town again?” you ask Frankie softly, and he can tell from the look on your face that you know something is up, but you haven’t put it together yet because you always think the best of people.

Frankie hates to be the one to break it to you, but he sighs, swipes his baseball hat from his head. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging against the knots in his curls, then spits out, “they set us up, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, and your face twists into an expression of confusion.

“Huh?” is all you can say, and Frankie hates that this becomes your first fight as the guys’ treachery has foisted everything to the forefront.

-----

The fight is this:

Frankie prowls the house for more instances of treachery. You follow in his footsteps, anxious, chirping about how you don’t understand, asking him to explain, and how can he? How can he admit that Santiago Garcia, supreme asshole for the ages, is trying to force him to admit his feelings for you? That Benny and Will are in on it? That he walked right into this goddamned trap despite the weird queasiness in his gut, and you’re too goddamned sweet to even realize that you’re a victim to this plot too?

Further instance of treachery. The house has only two bedrooms, and one has been recently dismantled. Frankie can see the indents on the carpeting where the bed frame used to be. The room stands half-empty: no bed, but a dresser and two nightstands.

Super fucking obvious, he thinks bitterly. Will or Benny or both must have come up days before and taken the bed apart, stashed it somewhere.

Leaving only one bed.

There’s a couch in the living room, but the living room has high ceilings, big picture windows…and it is cold. Frankie has tried the thermostat a few times, but it’s locked. It’s set at a cool 60 degrees. Not enough to kill anyone, but enough to make people uncomfortable. Make ‘em more willing to snuggle up, to share that one bed at night, to seek out each other’s body heat—

“Fucking asshole,” he mutters, but a beat later, he catches a surprised, wounded look on your face and amends, “no, not you. Pope.”

And that’s the start of the fight. The first fight he’s ever had with you, and it makes the queasiness in his gut intensify. You want an explanation, an answer to why, and Frankie can’t—won’t—give it.

“But it doesn’t make sense that he’d abandon us,” you point out reasonably. “Why would he do that?”

Frankie grits his teeth. “I don’t know.”

“Let me try to call him. He’s probably just lost.”

Frankie watches as you tap your phone. Listens to it ringing, then going to Pope’s voicemail. He listens as you leave a message (hey, not sure where you are, hope you’re not lost, ha ha). Watches as you end the call, then look at him, those big trusting eyes on him.

“Maybe you should try to call,” you tell him.

Grits his teeth more. “I already did.”

“Try again, maybe?”

“He’s not lost. He’s not in a ditch somewhere. He left us here on purpose.”

You lift your hands helplessly, let them drop. “But that doesn’t make any sense!”

Frankie crosses his arms, shakes his head. “That’s what it is.”

“But why?”

He doesn’t answer. He tries to school his expression and give nothing away, and he must not, because you watch him for a second, then pull your phone out of your pocket again.

“I’m going to try him again.”

It goes like this for a torturous hour. You sounds almost like a child with the constant “why’s” and you refuse to believe that you could be the victim in a set-up like this, and something in Frankie snaps.

He’s tired from two days on the road, tired of being so close to you for two days and not having the courage to say something, to make a move. He’s tired of being so weak, but he knows he’s not good enough for you. He had nothing to offer you. And now he's furious that it’s all been dragged into the light regardless of his wishes, and you’re too damned sweet to catch what’s really going on.

“Pope had no intention of staying,” Frankie finally barks at you, and he marches over to where Pope’s duffel bag sits. He kneels down and unzips it violently, tears the damned thing open and dumps out its contents. A set of dirty clothes that Pope wore the first day of the drive up. A travel sized toothpaste. A cheap toothbrush. A tiny stick of deodorant. Nothing more. No extra clothes, no phone charger, no book for when he got bored at night and couldn’t sleep. Frankie guesses that he had a second bag stashed somewhere in the bed of his truck, and he’s probably either flying back to Florida by now or posted up in some hotel while you and Frankie…do what, exactly? Admit your undying love for each other? Bare your hearts to each other? Set a wedding date and start thinking about seating arrangements for the reception?

“It doesn’t—” you start, but he snaps again, cuts you off.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he mimics in your voice, and you look stung. You recoil a fraction, and Frankie keeps going, leans into the bubbling bad feelings coursing through him.

“Of course it makes sense,” he continues. “The guys? They think we should be together. This is their fucking stupid way of pushing us together. Fucking matchmakers! They probably planned it for weeks, oh let’s get the two of them together in the middle of fucking nowhere, make sure there’s only one goddamned bed!”

“That doesn’t,” you start, but you catch yourself, and he sees the way you swallow hard, shake your head. Frankie swears he can feel the “why” creeping up your throat, but you press your lips together in a thin line and say nothing.

The silence between you builds too long, and the feelings are too unbalanced. Frankie’s anger, your confusion. He watches you, wary, and you stare down at a spot on the floor, and eventually you shake your head again, turn away from him, and disappear into the bedroom that has no bed.

He should follow, he knows, but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes to the bedroom with a bed, and he perches on the edge with his head in his hands.

How did he fuck this up too? He’s fucked up everything good in his life: his career, his first marriage, his relationships with his family.

He could have taken a breath, calmed himself. He could have gone to the bathroom and worked through his mindfulness exercises he learned in group. He could have pulled himself together, then talked to you. Laughed about it. Could have put you at ease.

Because what he did? He snapped, he lashed out, and worst of all: he acted upset at the prospect of the two of you as a couple, and he knows that you’re sitting in the other room right now, embarrassed. Probably even hurt that the idea of the guys setting you up made Frankie so angry.

-----

He pulls himself together long moments later, and when he leaves the room, the door to the guest room is open and the room is empty.

Frankie finds you in the kitchen. You’re pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. You don’t turn to greet him, but you must know he’s there because your shoulders hunch a bit, like you’re expecting a blow.

Frankie can’t remember the last time he’s felt like such a piece of shit.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but you get your words out first. Back still to him, the clink of your spoon in the bowl as you stir in the milk, you tell him that you have a plan. That you’ll be out of his hair first thing in the morning.

“I have a friend in Portland,” you say. Your voice is curiously flat. “She can come and pick me up tomorrow. Once I’m situated elsewhere, I’ll shoot a text to Pope.” A beat. “I know he’s reading them, so maybe once he knows I’m gone, he’ll come get you too.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No.” You shake your head hard. You turn around and look at him, and your gaze is flat too. Emotionless. You’ve slipped a mask on to cover the hurt, and Frankie’s never seen you so unlike yourself.

“This is my fault,” you tell him. “Pope knows I had a thing for you, and he must have thought he was doing me a favor. He clearly misread it, so please don’t be mad at him. Just…let it go, okay?”

Frankie’s heart does a dangerous stutter step in his chest, a fluttery sensation like a trapped bird. You have a thing for him? Since when? No, you’re reading it all wrong. You must be.

“Sweetheart—”

You cut him off again, and the mask slips just a little. Enough for Frankie to see the hurt there when you hiss, “don’t. Don’t call me that.”

“But I—”

“The thought of being alone with me is suddenly so awful—”

His heart is racing now; he feels sick to his stomach, dizzy, like his blood pressure is shooting up or dropping, he can’t tell, but he feels sick that he’s got it so damned wrong, that you both have, and he takes a step towards you. You try to back away but hit the counter behind you, and he grasps your upper arms gently. He holds you still and stares at you as you struggle to keep the mask on, to stop from crying in front of him.

“Stop. Sweetheart, stop. Pope did this for me. Not you. He…I…shit.” He drops his head, drops his hold on you. “I got drunk one night when my ex and I had just gotten divorced. Pope took me out, got me wasted to drown my sorrows, and I…it just came out. I never meant to tell him. I know I could never deserve someone like you, but I was single and you were single, and you were….you are always so nice to me. You never make me feel like a failure, and I was drunk and rambling about how I wanted to be a better person, a better man, maybe become someone who could deserve you, and Pope…I made him swear to never say a word, but he…I mean, you know him. You know what he’s like.”

It makes a smile, tremulous, creep across your face. “He’s like a dog with a bone.”

“He never fucking lets anything go.” Frankie sighs, scrubs his face with his hands. “And now this. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’ve messed it all up…”

He trails off, shuts his eyes. He can’t bear to look at you. You must be so disappointed in him. You’ll leave in the morning with your friend, and he’ll eventually see you back in Florida probably, but it will never be the same. It’s ruined, all of it—your friendship, any future opportunities he might have had to make it more—

“Do you want a bowl of cereal?” The mundane question cuts through his maudlin spiral, and when he opens his eyes, you’re gazing back at him. The mask is gone, and you’re smiling at him.

“Seriously?”

“Lots to choose from. Lucky Charms. Cap’n Crunch. Cocoa Pebbles. Corn Flakes.”

Frankie snorts softly. “They really stocked the place up for us.”

“We’d never eat this much in a month, let alone a couple of weeks.” Your smile slips a little, and you add, “their hearts were in the right place.”

He hates to admit it, but he nods. Agrees.

“Will you stay?” he asks you. “Call your friend and tell her not to come? It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can pretend this never happened, this fight. But I’d like you to stay.”

“I don’t think I can pretend it never happened, Frankie.” You pause, study him. “What you told Pope when you were drunk. Do you still feel that way?”

Frankie nods again. He can’t say it, because once he starts, he won’t be able to stop himself. He’ll go on and on, creep you out by admitting that he thinks about you all the time, that he dreams about you. That sitting beside you from Florida to Maine for the past two days was the most exquisite torture, that the motel in Pennsylvania held him for an entire sleepless night as he tossed and turned and imagined you in the next room. That he loves you, and the fact of his love for you scares him because he’s never felt like he had so much to lose, and you’re not even his.

But maybe you could be his after all, because you smile at him. You tilt your head and reach out to take his hand in yours—his hand clasped between both of yours, and your fingers are cold, so he lifts his other hand and cups both of yours instead to warm you up.

“Pope always told me I had you all wrong,” you admit. “He kept pushing me to make a move and I always said I wasn’t your type.”

Frankie grins at that. “What’s my type, exactly?”

A shrug, a rueful smile. “I think it was just a way of protecting myself. It’s scary to put yourself out there. Felt safer, I guess, just pining in silence.”

“While I pined in silence too.”

“We might be stupid, Frankie.”

He chuckles. “Possibly.” He studies your face; he sees the blatant hope in your expression and his stomach does a terrific flip-flop because he knows, all at once, that this is it. So he presses his earlier question, asks if you’ll call your friend to cancel your ride and stay with him instead.

You grin at him, nod. Say you’ll text her in a minute. Frankie—possibly stupid—starts to think why not text her now, but he doesn’t get to ask you because you’re already moving towards him—rocking onto your toes, tilting your head towards his, and when your lips find his, when you slot your mouth over his and finally kiss him, Frankie knows he’ll never be mad at Pope or the Miller brothers, because they worked out this golden opportunity for the two of you to finally be together.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes and tales #francisco morales #frankie morales #francisco morales imagine #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x you #triple frontier

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 4 months ago

Text

I have a deep dark desire to write a Spencer Reid x young! bau agent but she’s like freshest of the fresh meat at the BAU and they’re going undercover at a university as a married couple.

Like I’m not a writer but the little gremlin in my brain is really fussing about this one.

Here’s the roughest of rough rough drafts/ brainstorms lurking in my notes app. Thoughts, prayers and notes are appreciated lol

CW: age gap (Spencer is in his 40’s, reader is 24-25)

UPDATE!! It’s begun! You can read the first two chapters now: The Albatross Series

Spencer Reid sits perfectly still his breath caught in his lungs as he watches the young woman in front of him sign her name on the dotted line. It’s official, Doctor Spencer Reid is a married man— sort of.

She glances up at him, offering a small smile as she closes the pen. “So…” It’s an attempt to break up the awkward tension though, if anything it only adds fuel to the fire.

Spencer clears his throat, eyes raking over her as the voice in his head tells him once again that this is an awful idea, that she is too young, that she has no field experience and there are far too many variables and ways this could all go south. He tries his best to shake them off,

“If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t mean this to be rude, I was a young agent- actually one of the youngest agents the bau has ever—“ he catches himself in his ramble, his eyes searching her face for any kind of discomfort before blinking harder than necessary in an attempt to focus. “Sorry- uh, how old are you…if you don’t mind me asking…?”

“I’ll be twenty-five in October…so twenty-four.”

He mouths the number nodding to himself. When he was twenty-four, he’d already been an agent for three years, he was already the team’s resident boy genius by twenty-four.

“Right…” he chuckles shaking his head “that means...w-when you were born I already had two PhDs and was nearly finished with my third…”

She groaned a slight blush covering her cheeks as she fought the embarrassed grin threatening to consume her lips. “Doctor Reid-”

“Spencer.” He cuts her off, offering a tight-lipped smile “Y-you can just call me Spencer…I don’t think most married couples use such formality when they’re addressing each other…”

“I guess you’re right,” she say offering a little nod “Spencer,” his name feels too personal on her lips “I-“ a rosy blush creeps up her neck as her mind goes completely blank, every thought she’s ever had melts away in the warm glow of his golden eyes.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds posting #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine

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lou-struck · 3 months ago

Text

The Pickle Theory

Diavolo x reader

~While on a trip with you in the human world, Diavolo finds himself at the mercy of his worst enemy.

W.C- 2.6k

a/n: This was one of those prompts that I think of in the middle of the night and write it down in the notes app thinking that It would make sense in the morning... But I don't think I did Late Night Liza justice.

"Thank you for accompanying me on this little trip to the human world Mc, I would never have been able to figure out the intricacies of Human World Public transportation without your expertise." The Prince says warmly, his eyes alight with curiously as he takes in every inch of the sparsely populated city bus the two of you elected to ride.

Sure, there is enough room on this bus for each of you to have your personal space, but the demon is sitting shoulder to shoulder with you in the tiny two-seat row, and you certainly would not have it any other way.

"It was no problem at all," you beam, finding humor in how strange it is to see such a large and gorgeous man trying to politely cram himself into his seat. "I hope that you were able to find something here that you want to incorporate into the devildom. Besides, you know me. I love a reason to get out into the sun with you."

His smile is just as blinding as the sun as he takes in every inch of your elated features, and he lets out a chuckle. "This trip of ours definitely has been useful, but more than that, I am delighted to have had an excuse to whisk you away to the human world without any of our usual distractions."

"It's nice to be able to spend some time alone with you," you say in agreement as the bus comes to a stop. Despite years of etiquette training, you see the pout on his face as he realizes that the errand that brought the two of you together is coming to an end, and the two of you will have to go back to the Devildom so he can get back to fulfilling his royal duties.

"It seems we have reached the final stop on our route," he murmurs as the remaining passengers trickle out the doors. Through his shades, you can tell the driver is staring you down in the mirror. He clearly wants the two of you to get off his bus, but he's not gonna try and get snarky to someone of Diavolo's size.

Which is more than fair

You stand, and he follows suit, walking off the bus and onto the cobbled streets of an unfamiliar city. Your mind is fixated on what you can do to prolong this errand date. You want to spend more time with him, but as the Prince of the Devildom, his time is priceless. Much to your surprise, your thoughts are interrupted by the ferocious growling of your stomach growls ferociously. Your eyes widen as you look over to Diavolo in embarrassed shock.

Amazedly, the Prince only tosses his head back in laughter. "What a wonderful idea, Mc. We simply could not return to the Devildom when we are in such a state of hunger.

"Right. That was my plan," you chuckle, deciding to roll with his easy compliment. The sun is high in the sky, warming every inch of your exposed skin. Closing your eyes, you stop in your tracks to enjoy the sensation. You can feel his golden gaze even before you open your eyes.

His expression is radiant as he takes in your look of contentment. But there is something else behind it that you can't quite place.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," he replies, a faint smile on his lips. "I simply wish to see that pleasant look on your face as much as possible."

There is a deep feeling in your gut that there is more he is not saying, but you choose to not push him further. "Aren't you charming? But don't forget that you are the one who makes me smile so much," you say coyly as the two of you resume walking the narrow path, drawing your bodies closer and closer to each other until you are walking side by side. The light accidental brushing of your hands sends flustered shivers up your spine.

As the butterflies in your stomach threaten to carry you away, you take a peek at Diavolo's face to see if he is anywhere near as flustered as you, but the Prince's face is a mask of nonchalant charm. Looking at him was definitely the wrong thing to do in this situation because he looks even more stunning in the light of the day. Sunlight radiates off his hair, giving it a rich, coppery glow, and his dark skin seems to shine with an otherworldly beauty.

Men and women alike misstep as they catch a glimpse of his inhuman good looks, but his eyes remain focused on the path ahead. You can't tell if he is oblivious to the way his regal features draw attention or if he is so used to it it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

You become painfully aware of just how clammy your hands have become in this sweltering heat and try to not bump him again.

Clearly, he isn't trying as hard (at all) as his hand brushes yours once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you just see a flash of a smirk grace his lips. "Perhaps we should hold hands, Mc."

"You wouldn't mind?" you ask, subtly wiping your hand on the fabric of your shorts.

"Certainly, it's only natural for human couples to want to hold hands when they are on a date."

You smile as his logic wins over your insecurities; when he takes your hand, you aren't sure if it's your time in the Devildom rubbing off on you or if it's your inner pettiness, but the dejected looks that appear on strangers' faces when they see that he is taken brings you joy.

With his hand in your, it's easy to lose track of time. You aren't sure how long you have been walking until he stops abruptly. "Oh my, what is that smell?"

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in. Even with your inferior sense of smell, you are able to pick up the warm, comforting smell of freshly baked bread. "That smells amazing," you say, covering your mouth with your hand to hide how much you're drooling.

"It does smell wonderful; how about we stop here for a quick meal?" He offers you don't have to be a mind reader to know that he would be over the moon if you said yes.

"I would love to," you smile, walking under the painted archway and into an adorable-looking cafe. Large, thriving potted plants outnumber the number of patrons in this thriving business as you scan the dining area for a place to sit. In the very corner, you see a perfect little booth for the two of you to grab.

"let's head over to that table real quick; once we're seated, we can order our lunch at the counter and enjoy ourselves." You walk confidently, knowing that Diavolo will follow.

"Everything here looks wonderful," Diavolo says as he scans the menu, "Do you know what you would like to get?"

You furrow your brow and read it yourself but find yourself unable to narrow your options down. "Not yet, I can't decide." You whine, "COuld you choose for me?"

"Of course I can," he laughs, standing to his feet. "I'll go up to the counter and make it a surprise."

There is a spring in his step as he steps up to the counter. He learned how to order food at restaurants on your last visit, and he is extremely eager to show off what he has learned. When he comes back and slides into the booth, he looks very proud of himself.

"Did you do it?" you ask.

He nods and places a white-numbered flag on the tabletop. "I did; this little date of ours has made me want to host a human world café event at RAD so everyone gets to experience this. "That would be such a great idea," you agree, already wondering what kind of trouble awaits the lot of you when the event goes underway.

The Prince's excitement is contagious, and the two of you chatter excitedly about the semantics until nature calls for you to go to the restroom. You excuse yourself politely as you try to figure out where in this swanky place the bathroom is.

As Diavolo stares across the booth at your empty seat, all he can think of is how much he cares about you.

Getting to spend time with you away from everyone else is more valuable than any of the crown jewels in his palace. You are fascinating to him, even more so than the world in which you hail from.

But seeing how comfortable you are out in the sun sends pangs of guilt into his heart. He can't help but feel guilty for pulling you to the Devildom, away from everything, but he knows deep down that neither of you would change it for the world.

He is so lost in thought he barely notices a shy server sliding two plates of mouth-wateringly delicious-looking sandwiches onto the table before scurrying away from the gorgeous yet intimidating demon.

He eyes his sandwich hungrily. The bread smells even better now that it's fresh and inches away from him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, breathing in the aroma. All of his manners scream at him to wait just a moment longer for you to come back, but he can't help himself.

He reaches for the first half of the sandwich but stops just shy of the crust when he spots something that makes his blood run cold.

It's Slimy…

It's Disgusting…

It's the very bane of his existence…

"Pickles," he breathes, staring down at the lumpy green vegetable sitting inconspicuously on the edge of his plate. Now that he has seen it, its slimy, pungent aroma that so many others adore invades his senses.

He can't look away from it, even as he feels his stomach twist with hausa. It's almost as if he had just eaten one of Solomon's Mystery soups the sorcerer sometimes brings to the castle to share.

What should he do?

Years of etiquette classes have taught him that, as a prince, it is rude to refuse to eat something on his plate.

Even if he hates it.

Even if looking at that particular something makes him feel as if his skin is turning green.

He gulps nervously as he is faced with the severity of the predicament he finds himself in. He is representative of the Devildom; it would be rude to show up to the human world and refuse the food that he has been given.

"Wow, it's here already?" your sweet voice pulls the future king of Hell from his brine-filled thoughts. His golden gaze shoots up at you quickly, watching intently as you slide into the red leather booth. You look down at your plate with a smile before glancing up at him. "It's not much, but for some humans, going to the bathroom at a restaurant and coming back to see that their food has been delivered is the closest thing they will ever get to magic."

"What a wonderful outlook," he exclaims. "Human creativity has no bounds. I find the more I learn of them, the more I am inclined to admire them."

"You give us far too much credit," you laugh, but he can tell that your attention has been taken by the beautiful sandwich in front of you. You look up quickly, and he sees the cute way your features twist in embarrassment. "Sorry, I got a little distracted. This sandwich you got for me looks so delicious it would be a shame to not eat it."

"Then please, dig in." he chuckles, gesturing to the plate. But to his surprise, you don't eat yet. Instead, you look at him with wide eyes as if you are waiting for him to eat his own meal.

But he can't…

Not when that thing is on his plate.

"Diavolo, is everything alright?" you ask, surely noticing how tightly he is clenching his fist.

He feels his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, and he tears his gaze away from the dreaded pickle. "It's nothing."

Suddenly, your body shifts in your seat, and he feels a slight tap on his shin. It take him a moment to realize what exactly just happened. "Mc, did you just…Kick me?"

"I did," you admit bashfully as if you just remembered that you have assaulted the ruler of the Devildom with your Skechers. "But only because you weren't telling me what's bothering you."

This unfamiliar sensation of being playfully battered fills his only-child heart with warmth, and he bursts out laughing. "you truly are gifted when it comes to getting someone to open up, Mc." he caves and spins his plate towards you so you can see the accursed pickle.

"oh, your sandwich came with a pickle. I understand now." And just like that, you reach across the table, grab the pickle, and eat it like it was the easiest thing to do in the world.

"what did I do to deserve you? "He asks when you finish disposing of the problem.

"It's just the pickle theory." You say with a laugh; he feels very confused and looks at you to continue. "Some people say that a relationship is perfect when one person hates pickles and the other loves them. That way, you'll always have someone who will eat your pickles, so you don't have to. It's not just pickles, though; it's olives, onions, and anything else that you can think of. But it's fate that we are here today, and you happen to hate pickles."

Although your explanation is ridiculous, Diavolo lets out an unrefined snort of laughter. Quickly, he covers his mouth with his hand, a practiced gesture he's done frequently under the watchful eye of his trusted Butler. Instead of wanting to scold him, you let out a hearty laugh of your own. The sound is not beautiful in any way, but it makes his heart thump wildly in his chest as he stares at you.

"So this is Fate?"

"I think so," you murmur, looking at him with an expression he cannot quite place.

"What's with that look?" He asks, raising a brow.

" It's nothing; I just like getting to see the side of you. I hope to see it more," you say earnestly.

He reaches across the table to grab your hand, and he stares deeply into your eyes with the look of a man in love as he makes a promise to you. "Whatever world we are in, I will do my absolute best to give you whatever it is you desire, Mc.

Your eyes are full of tender emotion as he looks at you. "Would you really do anything for me?" you ask in a sweet voice and he finds himself nodding naïvely, he is completely under the spell of your charm. It's almost as if you are the demon who is corrupting the mortal.

But he knows you and rightfully trusts you with all his heart. One of the reasons he finds himself so drawn to you is that you would never in a million years take advantage of his love.

"Even though I just had a pickle, would you kiss me?" you ask, an endearing little smirk on your lips that has the Prince subconsciously leaning over the table towards you.

"If that is what you want, then nothing would deter me from granting such a request." he smiles, capturing your lips with his, not caring about anything other than the taste of you.

Tagging; @sleepyyshroom, @i-need-to-go-like-mangogo , @starbbyy, @sarah22447, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf , @ourfinalisation, @anjodedesgostoeerros, @isaacdaknight @qardasngan

#obey me!#obey me nightbringer #x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo

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