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xprakzif · 2 months

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puppy love

chris sturniolo

pairings: chris x fem!reader (unestablished)

warnings: fluff/angst, cursing, none really

summary: chris doesn’t know how to express his feelings and now she thinks he hates her.

chris always seemed to have that narcissistic persona. any girl who came across him knew better than to try it, even if they attempted to get at him, he was quick to let it known he was uninterested. so why was he acting like this with her?

he didn’t even know. nick was great at making new friends, and she just happened to be at the same beach at the time they were. the triplets, along with nate, traveled to a smaller town that was typically quiet but had beautiful views and landmarks.

they were driving around until they spotted the rather empty beach. they walked along the tide talking for what felt like hours. they honestly lost track of time, and direction.

walking their way was a girl, she looked majestic in the sunset that made her skin glow. she wore a light pink bikini underneath a crocheted sweater that only covered her top half. in her right hand was a baby pink retractable leash, leading down to a small, harnessed, yorkie puppy that started to run up to the boys. she was ethereal, to chris atleast.

“look- maybe we can ask her how to get back to the car?” nate pointed to her, she was busy enjoying the sunset and didn’t notice them, until the dog began to bark.

“shhh, kiwi-“ she finally saw the group of boys coming up to her, gaining anxiety. usually people wanted to meet kiwi, she hoped that’s why they approached her.

“hi- oh!” nick started to speak until kiwi interrupted, barking in a high pitch while she struggled to get closer being pulled back by the pink harness.

“sorry, she’s friendly- she just wants you to pet her,”

matt wasted no time in bending down to greet the giddy puppy wagging her tail at the attention. he cooed and scratched at her fluffy ears.

“cute.. um this is gonna sound crazy, but we kinda lost our car-” nick explained.

“we aren’t from around here, my names nate” he interrupted nick, deepening his voice. chris was only watching, he’d never been so quiet before. even he realized.

“..okay, im y/n. where’d you guys park?”

“it was small lot in front of the surf shop building, when you get off the main road?” replied nate.

“oh- i parked there too! i can show you guys, we were just heading back home.” chris was surprised she had walked all this way, he was unaware that they were only walking for 40 minutes.

she was set in between matt and nick, walking ahead a bit to lead them. matt was eyeing kiwi the entire time. she noticed him walking close to her paying attention to everytime kiwi sniffed the sand or tried to drink the slow tide that came by.

“here,” she handed off the leash to him, gaining a huge smile in return. “don’t lose my baby, please.”

within the 40 minute walk back to the lot, nick made most the conversation, getting to know the girl. once again, chris realized how quiet he’d been. so did everyone else.

“here we are, this your van?” she pointed to the empty parking lot with only her car and theirs.

“yea, thank you so much. we honestly would’ve been deserted if it wasn’t for you- can i get your number? i’d love to hang out sometime!” the boys filled the car while nick stood outside with his new friend.

“of course!” she waited for him to pull up a new contact and verbalized her information. “i’ll see you, drive safely!” and with that she patted the drivers seat of her black toyota signaling kiwi to hop in, and went home with more than she came for.

meanwhile, the van was chaotic. matt and nate up front singing a song that came on, while nick interrogated chris.

“whats up with you? you haven’t said a word since we met y/n.”

he knew it too. he didn’t understand it thought. “i don’t know.. i’m fine.” nick could usually tell if he was lying, but this time it was unreadable. he let him off easily and went on his phone to text her about hanging out soon.

flashing forward to present day, chris had his mind made up. it all made sense why he acted that way. it was like his soul attached to her. he must stay focused though, so he denied, denied, denied.

she was at the triplets home. madi and nate were there too.

“we should make trevor and kiwi meet!” she suggested to matt who was laying next to her on the couch. his eyes lit up with kiwi cuddled to his chest.

“y’all are so obsessed with these dogs.” chris took a seat next to her listening in and placing his can of pepsi on the coffee table. his heart raced a bit when she looked him in the eyes. his remarks always came out defensive and ignorant. he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t used to this feeling and couldn’t make it obvious.

her on the other hand, thought he hated her. she grew aware of his personality but hers was naturally flirty and extroverted. he knew this as well. she was friendly with everyone. how was he supposed to know if she felt the same way?

“are you jealous that i like kiwi and trevor more than you?” she smirked. those eyes were the ones that made him nervous. the ones that drew him in every time.

his breathing caught in his throat, “nah..” he shook his head and reached for his drink to hide the smile plastered on his face.

she had an effect on him she had no idea about.

“so trevor’s going back to your parents during the tour..” she started indicating an idea that made matt excited and chris irritated. her and matt had a bond that was different from the others. they had a lot in common, something chris grew jealous of and tried to prevent in anyway possible.

it was his own fault though. he decided to stay quiet and let his fear of rejection control him. that could’ve been him in that position.

“absolutely not. we’re not bringing the dogs on tour, y/ n.” he assured sternly.

she shifted in her seat to face him, “chris! come on, i’ll be there to take care of them while you guys work, madi will be there too! right madi?” she motioned to the girl who was sat at the table with nick.

“don’t even try!” chris stated before madi could even speak.

“what’s wrong with that, i love kiwi and trevor!” madi disagreed with chris from the table.

“see its two against one!”

“three!” matt mumbled with kiwi licking at his face.

“don’t you want me to be happy?” she pouted and widen her eyes to tease him. he did want her to be happy, he was just being an asshole.

he looked into her eyes, the ones that made him fall too hard for her. almost stunned and lost for words he looked away, “whatever, fine.”

she squealed and hugged him tightly, shocking him in the process.

this was going to be a very long tour.

“okay- wait what if they fight?” she was holding kiwi tightly in her arms covered by a comfy sweater. they were currently loading the tour bus, situating their bunks, and trying to introduce the dogs.

matt was sitting on the floor with trevor in his lap.

“you said she was friendly with other dogs,”

“she is.. i just don’t want them to fight!” she gave in and sat on the floor with kiwi. chris came onto the bus to see what was going on. they had disappeared into the bus moments ago without telling anyone.

he stopped in his tracks and observed the scene.

she finally let kiwi down, sniffing the floor of the new area and approaching the other small dog. trevor did the same, eventually they began to smell each other to get familiar.

she spared a glance at matt who smiled in return. chris noticed this, his heart sank a bit. did she like him? he thought.

soon enough, kiwi and trevor were playing together after kiwi licked his nose.

“aww they love eachother!” she cheered and scooted forward to hug matt. a grunt was heard by the two, chris didn’t know he did that out loud.

“oh- chris, look!” pointing at the puppies, “let’s have them married.” she was playing around, he wasn’t having any of it.

“yea, we’re about to start moving so can you guys move?” once again, he didn’t mean for it to come off so abruptly. she frowned and picked up kiwi, pushing past him to get to the seats, trevor trailing behind her.

“dude, why you being so rude to her?” matt was genuinely curious, but it came off defensive. he loved her, but only as a friend. not like chris did.

“i’m not..” matt was about to just walk away, but he spoke again, “i just- matt?”

“yeah?” they stared at eachother.

“i think i’m in love with her.”

matt cheesed widely in excitement, chris took it the wrong way.

“no- you can’t tell her!”

that wasn’t even on his list, “i won’t. i’m just happy you can admit your feelings for once.” patting his brother on the shoulder and going to sit with the others.

in the bus, she sat next to madi. they were giggling at trevor chasing kiwi in a circle. nick was across from them scrolling through tiktok.

chris walked in, seeing the beautiful smile on her face light up the room. everyone noticed he walked in, he was more focused on her.

she glanced at him, the smile fading a bit.

“we’re moving, everyone sit! we don’t want any accidents.” a voice called out from the front of the bus, most likely the driver.

chris sat next to her on instinct. there was obvious tension.

“madi, look at this” nick motioned for her to sit next to him which she did. leaving the two to sit alone.

chris wasn’t one for apologizing, he wasn’t sure how. he had to say something though.

“you glad we brought the dogs?” that was his way of apologizing?

she was very forgiving to say the least. there’s been worse things he’d say to her. some of which made her go cry in the bathroom.

“very..”

silence. besides nick and madi scream-laughing across them.

“so- um, which state you most excited to see?” he was trying anything to start a conversation.

“oh- probably florida, i loved visiting there when i was younger,”

he didn’t know that though, he never took the time to get to know her for real. not like matt or nick did.

he was starting to hate himself for it. why couldn’t he just express himself correctly? it was a struggle for sure.

the bus made it to their first stop. everyone got out to stretch, matt and y/n letting the dogs use the bathroom.

they were away from the group, far enough for no one to hear their conversation.

“i’m so happy we brought them,” she started

“me too, not happy about this part though” he cringed at the sight of trevor using the bathroom that he would have to clean up.

“um.. can i ask you something?” she was comfortable enough with matt to have deeper talks, this was something she couldn’t get out of her mind.

“of course,”

she took a deep breath, “is chris like, mad at me.. or something? ever since we met he acts as if he hates me, do you see it too?”

after what chris told him earlier, it made sense. “no, no he doesn’t hate you,” he wasn’t sure how to word it in a way that wouldn’t out his brother. “that’s just how he is, but trust me he doesn’t hate you. we love you, y/n”

“i love you guys too.” his words were comforting, she felt some sense of relief. matt was always sweet to her, it was easy to get close with him. her mind still wandered to chris, there had to be more, right?

the rest of the ride was relaxed, for most of them atleast. madi and matt were asleep in the bunks, nick was sitting on a seat using his laptop.

chris was in a bunk, trying his best to sleep but his brain was wide awake. he didn’t know how he would manage going on tour with her, spending everyday with her, all with her being oblivious to his feelings that he couldn’t even let out correctly.

she was in the same room as nick, her head on his shoulder watching his skills as he edited a video for his business.

“hmm, i think i’m gonna go lay down before i go insane. you coming?” he shut the computer.

“i will in a minute..” she wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep this entire trip.

nick nodded and slid the door to the bunks open. she sat for a second, looking out the window to the starry sky blurring past. the lights were off leaving the only light casting from the window to dimly shine in the bus. the door slid open behind her, it was probably nick forgetting his phone before he left.

“y/n?” she turned to see the silhouette of chris.

she gulped unable to speak. “what you doing up?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” she said while he sunk into the spot next to her.

“can’t sleep..”

“me neither, are you nervous about performing?”

“why would i be?” he barked. there it was again.

“chris, am i supposed to read your fucking mind?” she even shocked herself, she was fed up with his attitude.

“i wish you could, maybe then you’ll understand how stupid you are!”

“seriously what’s wrong with you? why do you act like you hate me?!” she was a little too loud.

“what the hell is going on?” nick came from the sliding door, he hadn’t went to sleep yet and heard her shouting.

“nothing- mind your business!” nick looked like he was ready to tear chris apart.

she felt her face heat up, her eyes began to water. she got up and stormed to the back of the bus letting the tears flow. she couldn’t hold back.

“you better go apologize to her chris! i swear i’ll ruin this whole tour for you! if you have a problem with her than say that, she’s our best friend, even if she’s not to you.” he lectured him knowing how he treated her. everyone knew, they just didn’t see why.

chris sat there silently while nick went off. he didn’t even bite back. nick just stood there with his arms crossed waiting for chris to speak, move, anything.

“your right..” he whispered.

“what was that?”

“i said your right, damn.”

“that’s what i thought. now get to moving, i wanna go to bed, in peace!” nick emphasized. he waited for chris to get up and head to the back, following behind to go back in his bunk.

chris hesitated before sliding open the door to the back area of the bus. he heard sniffles from the other side, it felt like nick punched him in the chest before going to bed. he wasn’t aware he made her cry.

stepping into the small room, he saw her barley lit up from the moonlight and occasional passing car.

she looked up to see him, worried and a bit embarrassed. worried he would yell at her again. she didn’t like that he could make her crumble with such ease.

“y/n..” she hated when he said her name.

he sat next to her on the leather seat that was less spacious than the ones up front.

“don’t cry.. i-i’m sorry, okay?” he shocked himself making his body heat up. she wiped her nose with the soft sleeve of her sweater and turned to him.

“i don’t hate you, i don’t. i’m sorry for treating you wrong, i promise i’ll stop, okay?”

she nodded, feeling a smile creep on her puffy lips.

even in the dark, her smile lit up the room. he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and she embraced him tightly around his torso.

he loved the feeling. it was this easy? he thought. the flame grew with every second they touched, he wished it could last forever. but she pulled away and he craved it all over again.

“cmon, you need to sleep.” she got up indicating she was going to sleep before stopping. “goodnight, i love you.”

that. that almost broke him.

he knew it was platonic, she said it to all of them.

“goodnight.. i love you too.” but he meant it differently. she wouldn’t know that though.

“rise and shine, campers!”

kiwi and trevor were having a barking match trying to get to each other being too scared to jump off the bunk and waking everyone up.

“too early for you to be this energetic” madi groaned to nick while hopping down from her bunk.

“girl it’s 10am! we have a few hours till our first show!” nick exclaimed making his way off the bus. madi followed him.

the crew stopped to get breakfast before heading to the venue of the day.

“matt,” she poked at the sleeping boy in his bunk. “matt! wake up!”

he groaned, “what? where are we?” shuffling in the sheets.

“get up, we’re getting food. and you have to let trevor out!”

“it’s fine, i got it” chris came almost out of nowhere and picked up the small dog with the leash already in his hand.

her and matt both glanced at eachother confused before matt layed back down. she rolled her eyes playfully, her attention going back to chris who struggled with putting on the harness.

“trevor- stay still!”

she giggled and helped him after finishing with kiwi. maybe he was going to change after all.

“it’s time boys!” the triplets were at the venue backstage. they waited for the opening act to finish performing so they could go on.

“5 minutes till show time.” the crew member advised them to get ready to go on stage.

madi and y/n were backstage hyping them up. “you got this, you’ll do great! love you, have fun!” she hugged matt and nick as they left the stage room with madi, leaving her and chris alone.

“are you ready?”

he nodded and fixed his hair under his cap. “how do i look?”

“ugh, you never change, do you? you look fine!” she joked, smacking him on his chest. “okay, now go! they’re waiting for you!”

“alright, i’m definitely not stalling..”

“chris, you’ll do great! i love you so much, i’m so proud of you!” she was referring to all of them, but he took it personal. she embraced him in a hug- he was stunned. why couldn’t he move? something took over him, he just stared at her.

“i love you.” he whispered.

“good luck, chris.” she turned to grab kiwi from the floor, did she hear him?

“i love you, y/n.” he said it louder this time.

“i heard you, hun..”

he grasped her hand lightly before she could bend down to pick up her dog, making her face him. looking him in the eye.

“no, i don’t think you did- i love you.”

her expression was lost. “..what?

he couldn’t stop saying it. “i love you, y/n,” but he finally said the right one.

“i’m in love with you.”

can y’all tell i love animals yet or no

idk but tell him part three should be out soon stay tunedddd xoxo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #madi filipowicz #nate doe #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #stromboli #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #fluff #angst #to be continued

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mickyschumacher · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friends with benefits is never a good idea. friends with benefits with carlos sainz especially isn't a good idea.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), jealousy, fwb to lovers trope!, let's hear it for the google translated spanish!!, unprotected sex again (using a condom is hot behaviour ♡︎), remnants of gaslighting?, oral sex, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, cumming inside, love confessions, set it up reference!, carlos realising his red flags, mention of rebecca donaldson as the other girl but she isn't vilified or anything (some peeps scare the shit outta me), idk anything about granada (except the memories of the alhambra! can i get an amen?)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x fwb!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+

𝐀/𝐍: this was a messaged request so i hope it was up to par! kinda long but we get there eventually. plot holes? yes. proof-read? um... to my sore eyes, yes.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things the world still couldn't explain. The human body, the brain especially, why humans yawn, the cause of Alzheimers, or why tomatoes have 10,000 more genes than humans do.

In addition, you couldn't explain how you had gotten to be friend with benefits with none other than Carlos Sainz, an F1 driver for Ferrari.

Well... there were some parts you could explain. Like how you met. You were simply a girl from Pampaneira, Granada going grocery shopping after eating up the last of what was in your fridge and Carlos was a fresh bachelor who decided to spend a part of his vacation with his friends over 400 kilometres away from his Madrid home in Granada.

A fresh bachelor who also happened to need grocery's for his cousin's raging hangover.

To say you were the town's golden girl was a bit of an understatement. You were far too busy greeting all your local residents. You didn't notice Carlos when you first walked into the store.

But Carlos noticed you. Actually he noticed you before he even laid eyes on you. Your sweet floral perfume roamed the air and engulfed him, luring him without any words. And then he saw you.

You were a beautiful woman. Everything about you... the long hair, your glowing skin, curves every lover goes to dream about at night, eyes that you would never want to let down, your lips... God your lips, one look at them and no sane person could stop thinking about them... at night; and then there was your smile, a social service that could get rid of all the tension in this world.

You didn't notice Carlos until you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from the health isle that was poorly across from all your fruit. There was no shortage of attractive men in your town let alone Granada. But you had never seen a man like Carlos before.

The thicket of brown locks that you craved to run a hand through, his gorgeous tan skin that God must've given, the mysterious chocolate eyes, the perfectly plump lips which made you think he just had to be a good kisser, the slight scruff on his face that made you wonder how it would feel on your skin, the taut body... a gorgeous man.

You didn't know who Carlos was. In Pampaneira, although you new what it was, no one really cared for F1. It was a village that bordered on as a small town. Everyone here knew each other well and spent every second socialising.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to talk to him or whether you were too nervous to. But it didn't matter because Carlos made the first move and introduced himself. You introduced yourself. He complimented you. You complimented him.

And that was that.

By nightfall, he was in your bed and the both of you had the most sinful, steamiest sex of your lives. So much that Carlos saw you for the rest of his time there. So much that when it was time to leave, Carlos told you to come with him.

And you did.

It was all of that that had led up to all of this. This being your attendance to a dinner at an F1 event as Carlos' plus one in Barcelona. He couldn't hide a beauty like you. Besides, the Spain paps had already managed to weasel their way into your relationshpi with Carlos. Most people thought you were dating. But Carlos had firmly laid the rule out as one did when you became friends with benefits: you don't fall in love. Neither one of you. You agreed for the sanity of your brain because you were far too attracted to the man to fall into the tricky waters of love.

"Holy shit, Carlos..." Lando swore when his eyes landed on the entrance of the dinner.

Carlos raised a brow at this driver, turning his head to the direction of Lando's gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you. Every time he saw you, he couldn't be more thankful that he had eyes.

You had captured everyone's attention no doubt. How could they not look? Not when you were dressed in a light yellow satin material that hugged you in all the right places. Not when your neck was adorned in the diamond lariat necklace Carlos had brought you, hiding all the hickeys he had place there this morning. Not when the back of the dress scooped so far down that it only rested a few inches above your ass.

Christ, Carlos thought as he discreetly adjusted his tight pants. You were a sin.

You greeted all the drivers, laughing softly when Lily and Alexandra started to fawn over your appearance.

"I'm telling you, you are probably killing Carlos right now," Lily whispered on one side of you.

You rolled you eyes as Alexandra quipped on the other side, "Probably? Look at him. He is suffering."

You pressed your lips together, preventing a full-blow grin from washing onto your face.

That was kind of the point.

You tried to avoid as much of Carlos as you could because riling him up was one of your favourite pastimes. But in your endeavour, you felt a familiar hand graze your bare back, sending a warm tingle up your spine.

"All of this when we don't get to finish the night together? No juegas limpio, mi niña bonita," Carlos' lust-ridden voice whispered as his head dipped down, letting him place a small kiss behind your ear. You don't play fair, my pretty girl.

You gave him a meek smile. As much as you loved his compliments, they were starting to get you these days. The endearments combine with his actions were stirring up feelings that should be sounding alarms in your head.

"Jugar limpio no es divertido," You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to divert you eyes to the dinner. Playing fair is no fun.

"That's true." Carlos poked his tongue in his cheek upon hearing your remark. You reminded him of a firecracker. Always ready to burst and come back with something to say.

"You have to admit it is sad though, hmm? Because all I want to do is take that dress off you and fuck you. I want to make you cum over and over again till all you can call yourself is mine. I want to watch my cum fall from your pussy because you can't take it all, niña bonita. And then I want to push it right back in so you can walk around with it all day. Soon. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath as Carlos' breathing became heavier and heavier. You chewed down on your bottom lip, standing a bit straighter to discreetly clench your legs together. With a small smile, you turned to Carlos. "I hate you," You told him in the softest and sweetest voice you could muster.

Carlos grinned, making your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, his chest facing your back, and his chin resting on your collarbone. "Please. You love me."

You blinked blankly at the cold splash of reality that fell over you. You gave a dry and short laugh. You patted his hand with your own. "En tus sueños, Carlos." In your dreams, Carlos.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Mornings without Carlos usually meant you had energy because you weren't having your brains fucked out. But your usual opening of your socials had brought something that drained you entirely.

You stared at your ceiling of your hotel room blankly. Regardless of whether Carlos was awake right now, he wouldn't have even seen this. He didn't read any other news other than his favourites like ESPN or the CBS Sports Network.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. What was this feeling in your stomach? Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy? You couldn't really put a finger on it and nor could you tell why.

You turned to plant your face in your pillow and let out a muffled groan.

How did you even get here?

Right. The grocery store.

You missed home. Home was an almost 2 hour flight or an eight hour car ride away. You missed when things were simple. When they made sense. Because lately, nothing had made any sense.

The thought of home brought you to the next train of thought: food. And as if on cue, your stomach growled at you with demand. So with the motivation of not starving to death, you got ready to have breakfast and headed down to the nearest cafe because hotel room service sucked.

Opting for a mocha with an extra sugar to counteract the bitterness in your life, you sat down with some a variety of churros and croissants to choose from.

Your phone blared it's default ringtone, capturing your attention. Your eyes flickered over the name and your heart softened and your bad mood had slightly eased. You grabbed the device and slid your thumb to the right.

"Buenos dias, mamà," You greeted. Good morning, mama.

You could hear her exclaim with joy, a sound you hadn't heard in a while. "Ah, mi niña bonita, buenos dias! ¿Cómo estás? No has leído las noticias, ¿verdad?" Ah, my pretty girl, good morning! How are you? You haven't read the news, have you?

You winced at your mother's pet name. You hated this. You hated that the lines between before Carlos and during Carlos were blurring.

"Sí, mamá, lo hice. Don't worry. It's just gossip. All fake," You told her even though you had no idea yourself. Yes, mama, I did.

You heard a sigh of relief from the other side of the call, making your heart hurt. "Right? I thought so. Carlos would never do that. Es un buen chico." He's such a good boy.

You could only tightly smile, agree, and be thankful you weren't seeing your mother in person otherwise she would've been able to tell straight away. You didn't know because all you had agreed on with Carlos was attraction. Nothing more and nothing less.

You caught up a bit with your mother. The conversation ended with her demanding a family dinner to which you told her you would see if Carlos had the time.

It was a simple conversation yet it was eye-opening.

You wanted that family dinner so badly. You wanted to be able to go see your mother and Carlos hang out. Hell, his own mother wanted you to call her mom. You wanted the stupid romantic things like dates, a person who would listen to you, the whispers of sweet nothings because... because you were in love with him.

Of course you were. Sure Carlos slightly had a quick temper and he wasn't that great at being emotional with you or anyone for that matter... but there was that saying: you like because and you love despite. Despite all of his flaws–because no matter how great a man is, he has his flaws–you loved him.

“Buenos dias, cariño,” A familiar voice greeted behind you. Good morning, sweetheart.

You turned your head, finding the root cause of all your problems stand before you with the most handsome smile.

"Carlos," You said with a slightly surprised tone.

Carlos smiled in return, placing a lingering kiss on the side of your head before he sat in front of you. The both of you waited for his coffee to be placed on the table before any conversation between you resumed.

"It's a beautiful day, no? I feel good about this weekend too. It kind of feels like everything is coming together," Carlos told you, raising his brows excitedly at you.

You gave a gentle smile, taking a long sip of your mocha. Slowly you placed the cup down and took in a sharp breath of air. "Carlos... can I tell you something?"

Carlos furrowed his brows and softly laughed at your almost worried tone. He nodded. "Sí, cualquier cosa." Yes, anything.

You looked down at your cup, fingers tracing the rim of the glass as you wondered how to start. Your mouth opened and closed, uncertainty closing in on you. Your eyes snapped up at the taunt of your name slipping from Carlos' mouth.

Okay... you got this.

"Carlos, I... I don't think we should do this anymore."

The crinkles in between in eyebrows and amused smile on his face told you that you had lost him. "You are going to have to be a lot more specific than that, mi niña bonita."

You chewed at your bottom lip. This nickname was getting tiring if he didn't mean it the way you wanted it to. "I mean us, Carlos. This... whatever this is. Friends with benefits... our relationship... it has to stop."

Any amusement on Carlos' face had dropped. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he tried to think back on how you had come to this decision. "I–what? What do you mean? Did something happen? I thought this was going fine... amazing, even."

"This isn't working for me anymore. I don't want to do this anymore," You shrugged with the pretence you didn't care.

Carlos grabbed your hand with his, rubbing the back of yours gently. "Is this the stupid headline thing? Cariño, they don't know what they're talking about."

"You didn't even deny it," You laughed softly as a bitter taste arose in your mouth and you slipped your hand our of his grasp.

Carlos stared at you for a while, unable to defend himself. "I don't understand. We agreed from the start that this wasn't going to be exclusive all the time. Three rules: it's open, we respect each other and we don't... we don't fall in love."

You paid no attention to where Carlos had paused. You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal. "It's not that... I just... I don't want to do this, okay? Just leave it alone."

"Then what is it? I know you. You can give me a better explanation than 'I don't want to do this'. I can't leave this alone. Did someone say something to you? Did they do something? I swear, Y/N, if they did–"

"No," You quickly and sharply interjected. You took a deep breath. "Carlos.. I want more from you. I don't just want to see you every night and morning. I want to see you when we go out to have dinner. I don't want to be your sidepiece, Carlos. I can't... not when I feel like this."

The silence from Carlos was deafening. He struggled to open his mouth. His eyes twinkled with pain. "But you know I can't give you that."

Right. Carlos Sainz didn't do relationships. He was an F1 driver. They liked pass the parcel. And it just so happened, you were his parcel.

You nodded slowly. "Lo sé. Por eso lo siento. I'm sorry for ruining things between us but I can't do this anymore. Because if I do... I'm afraid I fall even further. And that's not fair on me." I know. That's why I'm sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As much as you would like to say you were a responsible citizen who didn't make bad decisions when you were upset, you couldn't.

The offer of clubbing by some of the girlfriends of the drivers was far too appealing in your situation. Your agreement excited the girls because you rarely joined them on these outings because you were too caught up with a certain Spaniard. Granted they didn't know the real reason behind why you were so ready to join them but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

As you arrived to the club, Lily let out a low whistle when she laid eyes on you. "How do you say hot as fuck in Spanish? Because my oh my you are hot as fuck right now."

She wasn't wrong. You felt hot as fuck right now. It was a warm night in Barcelona and the sexy black long sleeve mini dress, the same one you reserved for Carlos, was staring at you, begging for you to take it out of your suitcase. It stuck to your curves, it had some scandalous cuts, and it was backless. A perfect dress for Carlos? Sure. But a perfect dress to let go of yourself in a club.

You almost snorted at the golfer's theatrics but instead you opted for a flutter of your eyelashes and a stretch of your hand. "Oh dear madam, you flatter me!" You thanked her in a poorly imitated British accent.

Heidi and Alexandra laughed quietly as Lily rolled her eyes before grabbing your hands. "Let's go! I need some tequila!"

Quickly all four of you were by the bar, taking shots of cava (Spanish wine) instead of tequila. Well, you watched them take shots of cava. You may not be having the best day in the world but you were smart and sober enough to know that you and alcohol was not a good mix right now. And all the pleas of these girls could not convince you to do it.

Soon enough, you were all on the dance floor. The club couldn't be more of a club: sweaty bodies dancing on each other, old 2000s' music thrumming so loudly that you would think it was coursing through your veins, neon lights flashing rapidly across the room.

You... you were a vixen, dancing your way through all the bodies, relishing in all the lingering eyes you had captured. Every move you made was unintentionally alluring; your long tresses grazing your skin seductively, sticking to your skin at times as the humidity of the club made you shimmer in the flickering lights while you controlled the pulsing rhythm.

Lily, Heidi, and Alexandra watched in a shortly-lived awe before their eyes widened as a guy behind you edged closer to you. You could feel his breath brush pass the nape of your neck while the heat of his body began to circle you as his chest neared your back.

You couldn't feel a damn shiver down your spine that made you feel good as you once did but you weren't sure if you care that much. With the music blaring and your urge to escape reality without a sip of alcohol, you got closer to the man.

Dancing slowly to the music, you moved your ass closer to the man, feeling his hand lay on your waist. Your head fell back on to his should as he began grind his body into you. You squinted at the purple and pink lights floating in the air, frustrated. Why wasn't your body reacting the way you wanted it to?

The man's lips ghosted over the shell over your ear and he whispered, "Let's get out of here, baby."

Your mouth opened to respond but before you could let out a syllable, you felt the man's presence disappear and a hand grab your forearm, pulling you towards them.

You snapped your eyes to the figure, eyes widening slightly at the familiar brown locks, flushed cheeks, and the same chocolate eyes. Only those eyes were far darker. The host of pure craze.

"Carlos–"

"I think she's fine. You can leave," Carlos said curtly, ignoring your call of his name, brown eyes firmly planted on the stranger.

The man, sensing Carlos' anger and annoyance, held his arms up in defence and walked away.

Without looking at you, Carlos held his rigid grip on your arm and hastily walked you out of this club with heavy steps. You could spot the trio of girls nearby whispering their apologies, concerns, and how they forgot to mention they invited the guys.

"Carlos," You called wearily, watching him open the door of his Ferrari.

"Entra," He looked over at the door, waiting for you expectedly as he leaned on the car. Get in.

"What? No, Carlos, let's talk about this–"

"Get in the damn car and then we'll talk about this."

You let out a huff at the absolute resolve Carlos sported on his face. With a clenched jaw, you dipped down into the Ferrari, immediately finding the comfort in the familiar seat. You peered over towards Carlos, who was walking to the driver's seat.

Fucking hell. What had you gotten yourself into?

Silently, Carlos slammed the door shut. He took a glance at you and sighed before reaching out to grab your seatbelt and click it into place. The cologne you had gotten to used to infiltrated your nose as heat radiated off of his body. Putting the car into drive, Carlos was off onto the streets.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The ride to your hotel was fast. Carlos was well over the speed limit and all the buildings zipped past you like lightning. It was unnerving to see the combination of speed, silence, and anger in Carlos but you were lying to yourself if you said you didn't find it somewhat attractive. Carlos' hands firmly on the wheel, his taut jaw, hardened eyes... God, you were awful.

Not wanting to cause any commotion for all the gossiping fans, you both quietly arrived to your hotel room. You both took off your shoes silently by the door. You took a little longer, fiddling with the straps of your heels in hope to by you some time to think of something... anything to say.

With nothing coming to mind, you turned around to Carlos standing in front of you. His brown eyes stared hard at you while he chewed the inner corner of his mouth. You let out a small exhale when you felt his hand caress your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.

"Carlos..." You called once again.

Carlos momentarily closed his eyes at the feeling of your breath against his hand. "We barely finished our conversation this morning and you were going to fuck some stranger? Hmm?"

"I–" You wanted to say no. You really did. But you weren't raised a liar. "Yes. I was," You stated almost apathetically. You returned his sharp stare with a pointed look. "What is it to you?"

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath of air. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you so you were flushed against him. He pushed down the grin that was beginning to form once he felt your hardened nipples against his chest. He dipped his head down to your ear. "Say it again. I dare you. Try it again and see if I won't fuck you and edge you over and over again."

Your mouth fell open at Carlos' declaration while your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. You swallowed all the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, letting out a nervous incredulous sneer. "You wouldn't. You're driving tomorrow."

In addition to the three rules, Carlos had a special one of his own: no fucking the day before driving or throughout the weekend. Because of his addiction to your body and the animal he was, sex expended far too much of his energy and he knew for a fact that his team would be able to tell.

The hairs on your body stood straight and goosebumps began to travel down your skin as Carlos' thumb trailed from your lips to the valley of your breasts. His head tilted to the side, eyes moving from your tightly covered tits to your face. The corner of his mouth tugged up, forming a humoured smirk. "You don't think I will? After the shit you pulled? I made you a promise yesterday, cariño, and I'm going to fulfil it."

You let out a soft exhale. Your heart was racing in your ears. "Carlos... this isn't right. I meant what I said. I can't pretend like everything is fine like you. Besides you said it was open, right? You, out of all people, can't react like this."

Carlos' possessiveness was something you could never entirely wrap your head around. Sometimes it was there and other days it wasn't. He was all over a model yesterday and now he was pulling you away from other men? It was ironic.

The gaze that Carlos held told you there was something he wanted to say, right on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't say it. No... he couldn't admit it.

But you gladly would for him.

"You're afraid, Carlos. And I don't blame you. You've never had a serious relationship, you never committed, you never fallen in love so I'm not that surprised. But you've got to understand that I can't stay with you like this."

Carlos huffed in amusement, shaking his head shortly after. "You're wrong."

You raised a brow. "Am I?"

He nodded slowly. "I mean you're right about the relationships and commitment," He started, ensuring his eyes were firmly planted on you, "But I've fallen in love."

Your shoulders slump at his admission. Great. This was exactly what you needed right now. "Y-You have?" You asked with a small voice and a want to blare some heavy music through yours ears.

Carlos nodded once again. "At first sight. In a grocery store. There was this girl. She walked in, didn't notice me. But I saw her. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She laughed and smiled with the locals and I thought that for a second I died and went to heaven. I caught her eye and introduced myself. She did the same–"

"Carlos..." You interjected, feeling your heart pick up it's pace once again.

But the Spaniard continued his story. "We complimented each other, we talked and joked. Then we went to bed that same night. It was perfect. And after we finished, the thought of losing someone like her scared me. It was so terrifying that instead of asking her out, like a normal person, I asked her to become a bloody sidepiece out of all things. Can you believe it? I was an idiot... an idiot in love. I still am an idiot. Because she told me she loves me and I haven't done anything about it. Well, till now."

Carlos let out a long exhale, eyes nervously darting across your face, trying to draw any conclusions of your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "I hate you."

"What?" Carlos spluttered.

"Kidding!" You broke out into smile. "I love you too, Carlos. Not as much as you though. First sight? You are down bad," You jested, trying to not let all the fluttering feelings swirling in your body burst out of you.

Carlos blinked blankly at you. You were unbelievable. He shook his head at you, feigning a look of disappointment as he pulled you towards the bed. The soft sheets morphed around you, lulling you to a comfort you had been craving ever since you had put on your heels.

You eyed the lust-ridden look Carlos had. "I was being serious, Carlos. You're racing tomorrow. You have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, sex after a podium sounds nice," You offered, hanging your arms around his neck as he hovered over you.

Carlos smiled gently at your confession, heart warm at the thought of you by his side. He pushed your hair behind your ears. "As sweet as that is... I was also serious about my promise."

Carlos' leaned in, taking in one last glance of you before pressing his lips to yours. Goosebumps began to swarm every inch of your skin as his hands trailed down your body, finding your hips. If only he knew his tracks the way he knew your body.

You let out a small moan, giving Carlos a new access to your mouth. Your skin prickled with a new wave of heat that was unlike any before. Because this time you knew things were different. He loved you. And you loved him back.

You felt Carlos' tongue invade your mouth while his warm hands had moved to your bare thighs. His grip on your skin tightened as he revelled in the feeling of your plump skin rolling and burning in his hands. All because he touched you.

He removed his swollen lips from yours. The very same lips quirked at your whine. "You know this dress was driving me crazy?" He told you, planting his lips on your neck. His fingers skated up your thigh, inching loser towards your heated pussy.

Christ.

You leaned into his touch, losing yourself as he marked your skin with his love. His lips sucked on your soft skin with a greed the both of you had never felt before.

"Yeah? When? When you first saw me or when I was grinding on that guy?" You teased, running a hand through Carlos' dark brown locks.

Carlos paused, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. His fingers continued to travel, finding the soft and soaked fabric of your panties. "Niña bonita, you sure talk a lot for someone who is so wet from only kisses," He murmured against your lips as he pressed a finger on your cloth-covered folds and lightly grazed your clit.

You gasped at the sharp tingle shooting up your body. "Fuck, Carlos," You sighed, feeling a certain craving begin to settle in.

Carlos sported a grin that you almost wanted to smack off of his face. A feeling which only intensified once he removed his finger from your clit, leaving you breathless as he removed your dress. He sucked in a sharp breath coming across your bare body. "You know... going braless I get," He started while he trailed his finger down the valley of your breasts and towards your pussy. His finger stopped right above your clit. "But no underwear?"

You stayed silent, chest heaving at his touch. You were waiting for Carlos to push you right into the ecstasy you had been bordering on. "Carlos, please."

Carlos smiled at your strained plea, bringing his lips to your stomach. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," He remarked.

You watched as Carlos' head dipped down between your legs, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs. "Fuck, you are soaking, cariño," He called out, eyeing your glistening folds and feeling the heat radiate off of them.

You squirmed at his breath travelling up your spine. "Only for you," You rasped.

Carlos could only feel his heart pace as he watched you clench around nothing. His cock was flushed against the fabric of his pants and his underwear. Fuck, the pain was almost a dizzying as the arousal he was receiving. You were so good to him... oh the things you did to him. Good girls deserved rewards, did they not?

Your mouth fell open as Carlos' tongue laid flat against your folds, taking one long lap at your arousal. You could feel him smile against your thighs. "You taste so good," He murmured before plunging his tongue back into your warm folds.

He explored every crevice of your pussy while you hand shot out to his brown locks, pushing his head further into you. The obscene grunts that echoed in the room after leaving Carlos' mouth were nothing compared to the pace he had taken. He was devouring you; inhaling and savouring your very essence.

You removed your hand from his hair and the back of your head fell into the soft sheets. Your hips bucked against his tongue while soft moans fell from your swollen lips. "So good, Carlos, fuck," you cried out, voice straining from the pleasure.

Carlos took your praise as encouragement, pushing his tongue further into your slick folds while his thumb found your needy clit. He circled the sensitive bundle with a teasing gentleness that sent bursts of throbbing pleasure down your core.

A groan fell from his mouth upon feeling your hand in his hair once again. The slight tremble of your thighs and the clenching of your pussy told him that he was doing everything right. You were on the brink of losing it.

"Cum for me, niña bonita," Carlos urged, thumb rubbing your clit faster and tongue lapping at your puffy folds.

Your hips quivered against Carlos' tongue, thighs tightening around his head as your eyes shut tightly, finding a white light in the dark abyss. Your eyes watered while your mind became absent in your climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Carlos!"

Carlos momentarily stopped his actions, watching your face contort in pure pleasure. You looked beautiful. Hot, naturally, but beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat made you glow and your swollen lips with the few traces of lipstick were a hot mess but he loved it.

"No, no, no," You mumbled in quick turns when you felt his tongue and thumb return not a return a single second later.

"I said multiple orgasms, cariño. You can give me another."

Despite your refusal and the slight burn of your sensitive folds, your body liked to betray you, convulsing once again. Your hips trembled against his touch while your fingers grasped the bedsheets tightly.

Christ. Carlos was going to be the death of you.

Carlos greedily and happily watched your overstimulated pussy grind against him involuntarily. By the last quiver of your hips, he gave you a warm smile, mouth lowering to leave a trail of kisses across your stomach. "Well done, mi hermosa princesa." Well done, my beautiful princess.

You gave a tired smile, feeling a little less than beautiful with your sex sweat-ridden hair and skin sticking to the sheets.

"Princesa, are you sure you can handle my cock? I haven't tired you out too much, have I? Carlos queried, half with genuine concern and the other half with a tone that was almost patronising.

You narrowed your eyes before giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, you did promise to fuck me. If you can't, then nevermind."

Carlos couldn't tell whether he was proud or tired of your shit. You were clearly tired yet you had a lot to say back. Like he said, you were a firecracker.

With one hand, he removed his polo shirt. His brown eyes bore into yours as he slowly removed his pants. His lips quirked at your sharp intake of air once your eyes feasted on the throbbing bulge in his underwear.

Your heart thudded against your chest while you sat up from your position and inched closer towards him. You looked up at him with big eyes, hand trailing down his taut chest.

Carlos heaved, feeling the you skim past his body hair. His tongue darted out, resting on his lips as he carefully watched you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the waistband of his underwear.

"Fuck me," Carlos muttered under his breath, eyes glued to you while you pulled his underwear down.

Carlos quickly removed his underwear from his feet and in hast movements, pushed you onto your back. He rolled his eyes at the teasing laugh that fell from your lips despite it being the most pleasing sound to his ears.

You looked at the Spaniard hovering above you, hand gently brushing his cheek. You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I love you, mi amor." I love you, my love.

Carlos held your gaze, chest heaving at your sudden admission. He felt impossibly warm. It was like the first time he had met you all over again. He felt the same way the night you first had sex. He whispered, "Again. I want to hear it again, please."

Your eyes softened and your heart ached at his earnest plea. "I love you, Carlos. Forever."

Carlos stared at you for another second before bringing you into a long kiss. "I love you more."

You let out a small whimper, feeling Carlos' thick cock against your engorged pussy. You watched as his eyes became clouded with lust. Just rubbing his cock against your folds was an obscene high that made the both of you shiver.

The sudden jerk of your hips as his cock rubbed your sensitive and overstimulated clit made you cry out. "Fuck...," You moaned out, "I need your cock, mi amor. Please."

Carlos was so lost in the pleasure it took the slight dig of your nails in his forearms to ground him once again. "Me too, princesa," He grunted, selfishly grazing your clit again with his cock just so he could watch your hips jolt once again. Fuck. Your reaction drove him crazy.

Carlos forced himself to get ahold of himself and focus on pushing his cock into your pussy. Your hands fell to his neck, steadying yourself while a gratifying burn ached through your core. "Me estás llenando, amor. Muévete, por favor, Carlos." You're filling me up, love. Please move, please, Carlos.

A groan flew from Carlos' lips as he fell into your plead, hips beginning to rut against you. Your swollen folds clamped around him, holding a vice-like grip on his aching cock.

Your sweaty skin stuck against one another while Carlos brought this lips to yours, consuming all your lewd moans with sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most immoral and obscene sounds known to man.

With one hand placed on your hip, the other travelled to grope your breast. Rubbing your nipples in a circular motion, a shudder erupted through you, feeling your clit brush against his cock with each thrust of his.

Carlos looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. You clenched around his cock, signing Carlos that you were close.

"Carlos, fuck. I'm going to.... I'm going to..." You panted, unable to get out the words as the lust rang throughout your brain.

"You're going to cum? Tell me, mi amor, who did this to you? Who makes you feel this good, hmm?" Carlos beckoned, increasing the snap of his hips.

You cried out, right on the cusp of pleasure. "Tú, mierda, tú lo haces. Fuck!" You, fuck, you do.

Everything around you became a blur, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pleasure. Your moans were silent but your body said it loudly: shaking against Carlos' cock.

"That's right. Me. No one el–shit," Carlos cursed, feeling your orgasm in his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched sporadic whine fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, taking every last droplet into your pussy.

You fell against the bed with an exhausted sigh. You felt the bed dip as Carlos did the same. You felt his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You turned your head to the side, raising a brow at the chocolate eyes flickering over you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, cariño. I should've never ever let you be in a position where you felt like a fucking sidepiece. You are so much more than that. The love of my life," Carlos murmured, pushing a greasy lock of hair behind your ear.

Fuck. This was a new side of him you were seeing. The emotionally available one. And you loved it. "Well, as long as I'm not a sidepiece again," You shrugged, laughing softly.

"Never," Carlos confirmed. "You can beat me with those heels of yours if I ever do."

"Hmm... tempting. Although the guy from the club looks so much stronger. Did you see his muscles? So big," You fawned, fluttering your eyes dramatically.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. An amused smile spawned on his face upon hearing you burst into laughter.

You were going to be the death of him.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1

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luvnoirs · 7 months

Text

caught

paring: paige x fem!reader synopsis: reader walks in on kk and paige during a tiktok live and accidentally exposes their relationship warning(s): none ! (sfw) word count: 742

a/n: shoutout to oomf for giving me this idea lmao

"hey guys. where's p?" you question after you opened the front door to one of the team's shared apartment.

you had first stopped by your girlfriend's shared apartment which was next door, only to find out that she wasn't there. confused, you had sent her a text that had gone unanswered for ten minutes. so then you decided to go next door to see if her other teammates knew where the hell she was.

you were first met with amari as she held a jar of pickles, half of a pickle being chewed in her mouth while she held the remaining half in her hand. aubrey sat on the couch cheering on aaliyah as she wildly danced in front of the tv playing just dance 4.

amari was the only one who actually noticed your presence and she nodded towards the back of the apartment where the rooms were located since her mouth was still busy chewing on the salty pickle.

you thanked her as you made your way out of the common area and into the hallway. you could already hear loud chatter accompanied with the sound of music playing. you instantly knew one of the voices belonged to kk, so you decided to open it because paige was known to keep kk by her side most times.

your assumption was proven right once you finally opened the door and laid your eyes on kk and paige goofing off in front of an iphone camera. their backs were faced towards you while ice laid on the bed playing fortnite so she noticed you first. yet, her eyes widened a bit before they quickly cut towards kk and paige's direction. but before ice could say anything you had beat her to it.

"babe, seriously?"

kk paused her dancing while her and paige both turned around to the sound of my annoyed voice.

you watched confusedly as kk let out an 'oh shit!", scrambling to grab her phone and tap the screen quickly. before you could question it, paige was walking towards you with a surprised expression.

"y/n?" paige questioned. "i thought you said you couldn't come over tonight?"

you smacked your teeth and shook your head at her. "i texted you saying nevermind. then, i showed up to your dorm but you weren't there and when i texted you again you never responded. where is your phone?"

"it died so i had it on the charger while kk and i went live…" paige scratched her head, glancing back at kk who was now sitting on ice's bed biting the inside of her cheek.

"oh shit, you were live? i thought you were making one of those stupid tiktok videos-- ice! why didn't you tell me?" you whacked the side of her leg as she yelled out dramatically.

you and paige haven't exactly made your relationship public yet and you literally avoided the girl as if she was the plague whenever one of the girls went live. it was honestly all your decision for it to be this way because you didn't want the media to focus on who paige was dating rather than her actual talent and love for her community. you also knew how many fans she had and you could only imagine what they would say about you if they had found out that you were dating the paige bueckers.

"hey, i tried to warn them!" ice defended herself, still trying to concentrate on her game.

"they probably screen recorded the live, too" kk added, looking back and forth between you and unbothered paige.

you groaned as paige wrapped her arms around you, resting her cheek on top of your head. "nah it's fine… you weren't in the camera anyway so they can speculate all they want about it."

laughing, you hugged her back. she had practice earlier tonight so she smelled like fresh clean clothes and the lavender soap she uses. you inhaled and relaxed against her body. "your fans aren't dumb, paige…"

paige pulled back a bit to look at your face. "i don't care. i'm tired of hiding you-"

"um, not to be rude, but can y'all do this lovey-dovey shit somewhere else…" kk feigned disgust and held her stomach as if she was sick.

paige rolled her eyes and you let out another laugh. you said goodbye to her two teammates as your girlfriend grabbed you by the hand and walked you out of the room.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #kk arnold #ice brady #amari deberry #aaliyah edwards #aubrey griffin

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murdrdocs · 1 year

Text

fully charged | f. odair

description. a grueling week spent in the arena where you thought about two things, survival and finnick odair, has come to an end, leaving you to make your way back to finnick's arms to finish what you both started.

aka part 2 to saber tooth

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, reader has hair to wash, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (don't do this irl), fingering, super soft finnick, brief mention of trauma from the games, finnick loves consent ! (so do i), switches pov for a line but don't focus on that okay focus on the sex, not proofread but its 3 am

a/n: i stayed up super late to finish this and i didn't do my homework so don't ever say i never do anything for yall (i wasn't gonna do my work anyway and i was gonna stay up but shh). title from disco tits by tove lo

word count: 5.0k+

Blood on your hands, a headache that makes your ears ring and your vision spin, a simultaneous feeling of indescribable hunger and tear-inducing nausea, but the only thing on your mind is Finnick.

The Capitol airlift coming to the area was quick, and you’d never been happier to leave somewhere. You don’t look down at the open meadow that you’d spent the last days in. You look up into the jet, both joyed and disappointed to see the nurses and medics who awaited you.

Hours of injections and force feedings and encouragement to sleep later, and you were finally closer to Finnick than you had been in the last week.

The little notes he sent through sponsored care packages gave you the strength to make it out of there, and now that you are out, just the thought of seeing him is what keeps you on your feet.

“And everyone is so thrilled to have you back. There is a feast planned later tonight, and another for when you get home to Four, and of course a housewarming party to get you settled into the Village,” Mitch, your escort, rambles on as he leads you through the train cars, all the way to your personal area. Through each car that you walk through, your eyes scan the area for the golden blonde boy that you’d been happiest to see. And when you come up empty again and again, your heart feels as if it shrinks.

“But first, you need a shower. No offense,” Mitch smiles, his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to face the bathroom.

“None taken,” you mumble. Truth be told, you had more things on your mind to worry about other than how you smelt. The sound of Mitch’s dress shoes clacking against the floor announces his intended departure, but you turn around to stop him before he can leave.

“Yes, dearie?”

“Do you know where Finnick is?” The train hadn’t started moving yet, you were still at the Capitol’s station, so if Finnick were not aboard yet there was still time for him to join.

“Um, no.” Mitch looks disappointed by his own answer. “He said he had business to take care of and he might be traveling home with us. But I do not know for sure.”

Mitch’s answer leaves you with an intense feeling of loneliness, but you push it down as you make your way to the bathroom.

The shower is hotter than it needs to be, but the sting on your skin is welcomed. You scrub along your body with the exfoliating cloth until it’s visibly irritated, and even then, you continue a few more times. Images of the arena attempt to surface, a knot in your throat with each memory and self-deprecating thought that accompanies it, but you push it down with another pump of shampoo and you wash it away with the suds.

You’re on your third round of washing your hair whenever the whirring sound of the door to the bathroom opening meets your ears.

You stop rinsing, your eyes opening to look out around you. An unusual thick cloud of steam clouds the pristine area, you squint as you attempt to see who, or even what, has entered.

You come up short. Not knowing who was there makes you anxious and you regress into the thought process that you’ve become well acquainted with.

Your eyes scan the spacious shower, looking for something sharp. There’s nothing to defend yourself with, which means you’ll have to rely on your hands. Quickly, you rinse them in the running water, getting rid of the suds, and then you reach out to pull the shower door open.

“Hello?” you ask, your voice stronger than it would have been if you were in this predicament 7 days ago.

It’s silent for a few seconds, then a breath is heard, followed by a smooth timbre.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Finnick.

He stands in the corner of the bathroom, just out of sight from where the shower had you angled. His back is turned, leaving you to see the linen of his shirt and the dark-honey blonde of the bottom of his hair as his head is bowed. You want nothing more than to see his face.

Your foot reaches out to meet the plush rug, but you stop when the cool outside air enters the shower and you’re reminded that you’re naked, wet, and your hair is nowhere near presentable. But in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters.

So you step out of the shower, your feet sinking into the plush rug and your heart banging against your chest, and a smile reaches your face when you say, “Finnick.”

His head turns first, then his body, and you’re met with the sea-green eyes that you’ve thought about every night since that night. His eyes stay on your face, even though you’re completely nude.

You barely feel any shame or insecurity.

“Hey,” he says again, his pretty pink lips pulling into his own smile.

“Hi.”

There’s a few moments of serene silence, both of you just taking in the presence of the other, and then Finnick makes the move to cross the room.

His hands lift and his palms find the wet skin of your cheeks. He smiles. He blinks. Then he moves in.

When Finnick kisses you, it’s like nothing else in the world even exists. The entire Universe in that moment is just you and Finnick, two people who have always existed together. Nothing else.

His lips gently pull from yours, but he doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours.

“It’s good to see you again,” he tells you.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him.

He smiles. “I’ve missed you too.”

Finnick lets you finish cleaning up. He was going to leave the bathroom, but when you asked him to stay, your eyes welled up with tears and your voice cracked and he wanted to stay anyway, so he planted himself right outside of the shower then.

It takes a while for you to get ready, you spent most of the time scrubbing dirt out from under your fingernails and trying to scrub out the stench that permeated inside of your nose, but dinner was delayed for you, and no one complained. It’s when you were sitting at the table, eating food that was somehow still warm, with Finnicks hand on your knee and proud and sympathetic looks from your stylist and escort, that you realize that things are going to revolve around you for a while.

A nightmare plagued sleep on the train, a welcome party at the station in Four, a housewarming party in a renovated mansion in the Victors Village, another dress from your stylist, and a large dinner with friends you haven’t considered friends in years, with your family and Finnick in attendance.

And now you’re alone again.

Not exactly alone. Finnick’s sitting outside of your new bathroom, waiting for you, which is as alone as you’re going to get for a while.

Your makeup is gone, you’re out of the dress and into a pair of comfortable pajamas, and there’s a nervous anticipation in your chest. Not the kind of nervous anticipation that you’d felt in the area, but the kind that you felt last week when Finnick came to visit.

The kind where you hoped that something sentimental was going to happen soon, and as you pull the door open and come face to face with Finnick who sits at the edge of your bed, you knew that something sentimental was going to happen.

“Hey,” he scoots over to make room for you.

You take the space beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hi.” His shoulder works as a comfortable pillow, which you’d dreamed of for many nights when you only had grass as an actual pillow. . “Are you planning to stay here tonight?” You lift your eyes to look at him, a fluttery feeling spreading all over your body when you see that he was already looking at you.

He blinks, his tongue moistens his lips. “If you’d like me to.”

You hum. “I would.”

“What would I do?”

A shrug from you. “Help me settle in.”

“Oh so you’re using me staying as an excuse to have me kill bugs, chase out mice, dust the corners.”

You laugh. It feels good to laugh.

“Maybe.” Your shared laughter dies down and a still silence places itself over the room. You stare ahead, take a deep breath, and say, “And to keep me warm.”

Finnicks hand snakes around your waist, cupping the outside to pull you flush into his side. His lips are against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can feel them move when he assures you. “That’s what I’m best at.”

There’s a bit of silence that you use to turn yourself to fully face Finnick. His hand gravitates to your lower back with the movement.

He stares at you expectantly, and you smile gently. “Thank you,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrow. “For?”

A small shrug from you. “Keeping me alive … in there. And for being my best friend and so much more that I can’t think of right now.”

Both of Finnick's hands cup your cheeks and his forehead knocks into yours, then his nose, then his lips.

He kisses you softly, pressing a single kiss into your parted lips, the two pairs molding and sticking together as if they were always meant for each other. You melt into the second kiss, thankful to get to feel this again. A thought arises within you, one that details you and Finnick getting to do this for the rest of your lives, no longer plagued with the thought of being reaped. If that’s something he also wants.

The kiss is nice, but it’s also not quite what you want.

You communicate that by tilting your head, letting your hands meet the back of Finnick’s head, and scooting yourself closer.

Finnick mimics your new found ferocity, but it seems like he’s still not getting it. You push your chest into his, you slide your hands down his torso, letting them rest on his abdomen, and then he pulls away and furrows his eyebrows.

Now he’s getting it.

“Are you sure? Are you ready?”

You can feel the touch of his hand on your lower back getting lighter as if he’s anticipating your denial. But you nod, no hesitance behind the movement, and since you know he’s going to want to hear it verbally, you part your slick lips and say, “I’m sure. And I’m ready.”

Finnick has you on your back in the center of your bed quickly. You’re still fully clothed, but obviously not for long with the way his large hand is roaming under your shirt. The other rests beside your head, pressed into the pillow and keeping him afloat above you.

You can feel the ghost of his knee between your parted legs and he’s too far away. You need him closer. You need his chest against yours instead of a few inches away, you need his knee pressed against your center, you need his entire being to become fused with yours.

There’s no way for you to communicate that when he’s kissing you so hard that you consider the possibility that your lips would bruise. Not that you’re complaining one bit.

Finnick pulls away from your lips to press kisses into your jaw and neck, where he switches from simple kisses to sucking actual bruises into your skin. The feeling of his lips sucking the skin and his teeth nipping stings, not in the way an ant bite does, but in the way that has your back arching and you feel the scratch of the linen of Finnick’s shirt against the cotton of yours.

You let out a breath, not meaning for it to sound as much of a moan as it does, but Finnick’s lips curl up against your skin. He presses a final, chaste kiss into the bruise that you know to be forming, and he leans back to give you a full look.

“Can you take this off for me?” His hands tug at your shirt once.

You nod, sitting up to fill the space that Finnick makes by leaning back, and you swiftly pull the shirt over your head. For the sake of comfort, you’d opted out on a bra tonight, and the decision is clearly thanked by Finnick.

He’s staring, marveling, at your bare chest, taking in the sight. You know the way he’s looking at you is a good sign, but you can’t help but feel a little insecure, something in your mind telling you to cover up. Your hands twitch at your sides to make the move to your chest, but then Finnick’s speaking.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says it like he means it. There’s something in you, the same thing that tried to convince you to cover up, that tells you that he doesn’t mean it. He’s just saying it in the heat of the moment.

But your better judgment comes into play then and it notices that Finnick’s tell still isn’t there. He’s still telling the truth.

You smile, just a little bashful, and reach to tug at the end of Finnick’s shirt.

“Even the playing field, Odair.” He does as you say, his hands finding the neck hole of his shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it off the side of your bed.

Then his lips are back on your skin, kissing at your collarbone and steadily moving down your chest. He’s just pressing little kisses along your skin, not staying in one place too long, but the anticipation swims low in your stomach and makes you push your chest up into the air, waiting for Finnick to hopefully reach the destination you want him to go to.

When he does, when his lips wrap around your nipple, you sigh blissfully.

He gives the bud the same treatment that he delivered onto your neck, sucking and nipping, just a tad more gentle. All the while, his sea-green eyes stare up at you, gauging your reaction, seeing if he’s doing the right or the wrong thing.

Your face is one of nothing but pleasure, mouth parted, eyes closed, eyebrows pinched together with enough tension to tell him that he’s doing right, not wrong.

He switches to the other bud, and his hand trails down to the elastic waistband of your pants. Your hips wiggle, impatience finding you quickly, and then his hand slips past the elastic and his middle finger nudges between your clothed folds.

You shiver, a quiet mewl escaping past your lips. Your sounds only increase in volume when Finnick adds his ring finger and works then up and down your slit, circling them at your clit when they reach that point, and then working their way back down and teasing your hole.

When Finnick’s warm mouth detaches from your hardened bud, the cool air hits it and sends goosebumps onto the finest layer of your skin like a wave. They multiply when he speaks.

“You’re so wet, darling,” His fingers trail back up to circle your clit languidly, not fast enough to give you any real satisfaction, but enough to let you know that they’re there. “‘S all for me?” He’s teasing, pulling your leg, because who else would it be for?

The corner of his lips pull up into a smirk, confirming your suspicions, and you mean to say something equally as teasing back, something that would make his smile drop.

But your mouth works faster than your brain.

“Of course, Finn. Always all for you.”

He swears under his breath, his fingers stopping right on the hidden nub. He blinks, inhales, then fixes his gaze on your expectant one.

“You really mean that?” His hand flexes beside your head and you turn your head, your eyes fixed on him, and press a kiss into his forearm.

“I do.”

Finnick has your pants and panties off and thrown to the opposite side of your bed so quickly that you barely have time to process it. You only start to process how bare you are whenever his thick fingers come back to your center and this time, you feel them.

You feel the rough skin of his finger pads, the way they glide through your slick, toy with your clit, then sink down to begin to probe at your entrance.

You let him, your legs falling open even more when his middle finger sinks in to the first knuckle. He glances at you before he continues, and you’re in a state of bliss already, so he continues until the deft digit is sheathed completely inside your walls.

Finnick only fucks you with the single finger for a few moments, then you’re reaching down and wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing your hips into his hand, silently telling him that you want more.

So he adds another.

He curls them, reaches them deep inside of you, searches for the spot that he’ll memorize for minutes from now when you get the real deal.

His watchful eyes search your reactions, too. He watches the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips and the way your lips part and how your eyebrows pinch together more and more until there. He finds it and your back arches off the bed and your hiss turns into a pretty cracked moan.

“Right there?” he asks for confirmation.

“Right there.”

You feel lips kiss your inner thigh and then Finnick’s focusing on that spot a few more times, then he’s abandoning it. You hold in your disappointed sigh, but the feeling of Finnick separating his fingers, scissoring you open, is one that’s greatly welcomed as a replacement.

You gasp, moan, your back arches, your nails dig into the sheets. Finnick’s other hand goes to your clit, rubbing little circles. “Holy shit, Finn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Better than my own.”

An image of you in a similar position, but with your own hands between your legs and not Finnick’s, flashes in his mind and is that a sight to see.

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

You nod, expecting Finnick to work you harder, faster, to guide you to the edge. He does the exact opposite.

He pulls his fingers away from your cunt and your eyes open, staring down at him with bewilderment written all over your face.

“You still want me to fuck you?” His eyebrows raise.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.”

You watch him stand, slip his pants and boxers off, and you shamelessly stare at his dick, propped up on your elbows for an unobstructed view.

The way it sits so prettily, erected, reaching right at his abdomen. Flushed the same pink as his lips at the head, leaking a picturesque drop of precum. You could just sit and marvel at Finnick’s cock for a while longer than you’re given. But he bends down to search the pockets of the pants he came in, and swears when he doesn’t find what he needs.

“What? What is it?” You think you know what it is but you’re really hoping you don’t.

Finnick stands straight again and looks at you, obviously dejected. “No condoms.”

Fuck.

You’re silent, attempting to think of a solution.

“I could just go to mine, it's right next door, you know. I’ll be quick.”

He could. But you truthfully don’t care at this moment.

You’re sure there has to be some sort of morning after preventative that you could get your hands on now that you're Victor, and Finnick looks so appetizing just standing there, there’s no way you would be able to survive the few minutes that you would have to sit there without him.

“I don’t care if you don’t.” Your admission has his eyes widening just a bit, then his eyebrows furrowing and his face scrunching into one of slight worry.

“Are you sure? This isn’t something lighthearted.”

You nod. “I’m sure. There’s a preventative out there, right?” He thinks for a second, then nods. “Then I’m sure.”

Finnick climbs back onto the bed, wraps one hand around his cock and the other around the outside of your thigh. He glances at you, “Just relax, okay?”, and then back at your cunt when you nod.

He lines himself up and your immediate reaction is to tense up, but you take a breath, and relax, and then he breaches.

It’s painful, not in the way that you’ve felt pain just days ago, but in a stinging way. You can feel yourself stretching around him, allowing him in, and every few inches he stops to remind you to breathe.

You feel like his member is endless, there always seems to be more and more, but he’s almost there now, home stretch, but you don’t know that until he tells you.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. ‘M almost there,” he says, his eyes locking into yours as he takes a deep inhale, nodding when you mirror the action, then he slowly exhales. When you do the same, he slides all the way in until you can feel the base of his dick pressed against your mound.

When he’s all the way in, the curls at the base of his dick tickling you, you’re able to focus on how good it feels to have Finnick Odair’s dick nestled inside of your walls. The stretch is addicting. Your head’s spinning, your mouth salivating, and you just know that you’re gonna be addicted after this.

Now that he’s situated within you, Finnick brings his forearm back to push into the pillow beside your head. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then to your lips when you turn your head.

“Let me know when it’s okay to move, okay?”

You nod. “You can move.”

Finnick seems a little unsure, but your hips wiggle and you moan and he takes your word for it.

He starts slow, pulling out halfway then pushing back all the way in. You’re so receptive, little breaths and moans leaving your lips and immediately meeting his ears. He relishes in the sounds, the auditory display of satisfaction going right down to his groin, encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

He starts to pull out more, inch by inch, and push back in with more force. There’s no way for you to describe the feeling you’re in other than euphoric. For a second, you search your brain for descriptors, ways you can put the feeling to words for when you think about it later on, but you come up so short and Finnick is making you feel so good that you forget what you were thinking about in the first place with the next thrust.

“Doing okay?”

“More than okay, Finn.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He lifts his face to level it with yours, green eyes staring at you, watching you get lost in his gaze and blink yourself awake multiple times. “You can do it, baby. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Is he reading your mind?

“You’re an asshole.” He laughs.

“That’s no way to treat the guy making you feel this good, is it?”

He tilts his head, waiting for your response. You shake your head, back to being fucked out, and Finnick decides to let you off the hook for now.

He leans down, pushing his lips to yours and letting you sloppily kiss him while his hips rock into yours.

You didn’t think there was a way that you could feel better than this, but Finnick shifts his hips when he pulls out, then he pushes back in with more assurance and confidence and he finds that same spot and your back arches, your chest pushing into his.

“That’s it,” Finnick coos, either talking to himself or you, you’re not really sure. Either way, you still nod.

The linen sheets rub at your back, the crisp pillow cover crinkles with each thrust that sends you up the bed a little more, you can feel your pussy leaking around Finnick. You can smell him, a mix of the smell of the sea and a musk that is so unique to him that you want the scent to live permanently in your nose.

Your eyes are open, somehow, and you’re watching Finnick. The way the vein in his head pops out every so often, how his tanned skin looks in the low light of your bedroom, the way sweat reflects off of his forehead and a bead looks as if it’s going to trickle down and land onto your tit. You watch it, lost and mesmerized by everything that is Finnick Odair, and when it lands on your chest you just feel like he’s giving you even more of himself.

You want to give him more of you, too, but you don’t know how. Not here, in this position, with this hazed state of mind, so you do what you can. You dig a hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the strands with just enough tension, and you arch your back from the lowest point, pushing your hips further into him.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. One of a kind.” His hips are starting to speed up a bit, getting a little sloppier too if you really focus. But all you can focus on is the slight rasp in his voice when he praises you. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this pussy after this. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave you.”

You know what he means. You’ve known Finnick most of your life, long enough to be able to read between lines that sometimes aren’t even there. You know what he means.

You keen, the sound a little embarrassing but not enough for you to reflect on the thought for more than a second.

“‘M close, Finnick.” You can feel it low in your belly, burning, begging for your attention. This build up feels different from the last, a little more urgent, maybe. A little more prevalent.

This build up has you desperately chasing after it, terrified that you won’t catch it, that it’ll somehow slip past your grasp and you’ll be left unsatisfied. You know you don’t have to worry about that when Finnick’s the one making you feel so good.

The hand on your thigh inches towards your core, his thumb singling out and connecting with your clit. It only takes a few tight circles and a few more expert thrusts for you to fall over the edge, your legs lifting, hooking behind Finnick’s back to keep him close to you. Not like he was planning to go anywhere.

He feels so good like this, fucking you through your orgasm. You don’t want him to pull out, but you know he should. You know he has to. He tells you as much.

“Squeezing me so hard, sweetheart. Fuck, I gotta … gotta pull out.” You really, really, don’t want him to, but you let your legs drop and Finnick pulls out and his hand wraps around his lubed up dick, pumping a few times and then he’s spilling warm spurts of cum over your tummy.

You watch your stomach rise and fall rapidly with your breaths, the white substance glistening against your skin. Finnick watches it too, then he’s coming back for more kisses.

These are a little less sloppy, a little more gentle, a little more loving.

You feel yourself slipping out of it as he kisses you, your lips a little less receptive with each passing moment. Finnick notices and he pulls back, leaving you with one more chaste kiss before he’s leaving the bed and the sound of his feet on your hardwood lets you know that he’s moving towards your bathroom.

You don’t bother opening your eyes, you just listen to the sound of the closet door opening, the sound of running water starting and stopping, more feet against hardwood, then you feel the bed dip with Finnicks weight.

You flinch, then giggle, when the towel rubs at your inner thighs and then your stomach.

Finnick giggles with you, and you feel so domestic, so loved and cared for.

You peek your eyes open, watching the way he gently cleans you up. As if he feels eyes on him, he lifts his gaze, and smiles, dimples on display.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

“Am I still invited to spend the night?”

You pretend to think, but you’re too tired to even do that.

“If you make me breakfast in the morning,” you settle on, your hands under the folded back sheets of your bed.

You slip under the sheets and you watch Finnick carelessly throw the towel off to the side of the bed. Your mouth falls open. “And clean that up,” you add.

Finnick doesn’t bother responding. He just climbs to the top of the bed, slips under the covers with you, and pulls you to his chest with a kiss to your head.

Cuddled up with Finnick is a feeling you know you could get used to, and you hope you’ll be able to. You try not to think about how fleeting this could be. Instead, you force yourself to be optimistic, focusing on the riches you now have, and the beautiful home that’s on the beach and next to your best friend, and the way he’s holding you so securely to his chest, and the peaceful sleep that’s begging to be welcomed into the equation.

You decide to count it in, nestling even further into Finnick’s warmth and closing your eyes.

They immediately reopen and squint at the corner to the left of your bed.

“Finnick,” you whisper, continuing when he hums. “There’s a bug in the corner.”

“Where?”

You lift a finger, pointing to where it is. “Right there.”

Finnick sighs and stands.

“And pick that towel up while you’re at it please.”

#finnicksworld!#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #celeste writes thg #the hunger games smut #the hunger games

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scary-grace · 3 months

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WIP GAME: The Shigaraki x reader phone sex AU

@sophsiaaa requested more info about the phone sex AU, and it’s pretty straightforward. in short, the reader works as a dispatcher at a high-end end escort service, answering questions, doing admin, and keeping phone sex clients occupied while waiting for an operator to open up. On one particular night, she finds herself on the phone with a client who’s a different kind of weird than usual:

You’re in the middle of familiarizing yourself with all the parts of the cell when your headset starts beeping — and when you check your screen, you see that every single operator is busy. Again.

You get paid a flat hourly rate, but you really should negotiate that up for nights you spend keeping clients occupied while they wait. You answer the phone and run through your spiel — your operator’s not ready yet, but I’m here, and I’m super psyched to talk to a weirdo just like you — and wait for the inevitable question about what you’re wearing. You wait. And wait. And keep waiting, so long that you start to wonder if the call’s dropped when you weren’t looking. That, or the client got so wound up hearing a woman’s voice on the phone that they had a heart attack and died. You try again. “Hello?”

The call’s still live. You hear your voice echo on the other end of the call, and when you listen closer, you can hear someone breathing. Breathing sort of heavily. Great. “You know I get paid whether you talk or not, right?”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. Your boss will be pissed, and if whoever this is pays up, does it really matter if he says anything? Maybe he just wants to breathe heavily into the phone until time’s up. You’d like to think you can sit quietly while some guy does — something to the sound of you breathing on your end of the line, but it turns out that’s beyond your power to cope with. “Um, do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“What?”

“Clients usually ask that,” you say, trying to cover your shock. This client sounds young. Shiroiwa’s price point is so high that next to none of the clients are younger than forty, but this guy sounds like he’s barely out of high school. You should know — you’re barely out of high school yourself. “They want to know what I’m wearing so they can — um, imagine a little better.”

Silence. The breathing sounds a little less heavy and a little more hyperventilating, and you resist the urge to bang your head on the table with an effort. Why do you always get stuck with the weird ones? “So, like I said, I’m not actually the person you’re supposed to talk to. I’m just here to keep you company until your partner’s ready for you. We don’t have to talk at all.”

You’re rapidly coming to the conclusion that not talking is the best outcome for this situation. You and the client can pretend each other isn’t there until you can transfer him to somebody else, somebody who’s good with the weird ones or the shy ones. Kayoko, maybe. She’s great at bringing clients out of their shells. The fact that she and you and anybody else who listens in wishes they’d never come out of their shells in the first place doesn’t really matter.

“What are you, then?” The raspy voice is in your ear again. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to talk to.”

“I’m admin. Kind of a secretary.” You kick yourself instantly for the choice of words. “Not the sexy kind of secretary. Just — I’m the one who routes the phone calls. And the messages from our chat service. Unless it’s busy.”

“It’s busy?”

“Saturday night? It’s really busy,” you say. He sounds disappointed. “Is there somebody you were hoping to talk to specifically? I can let you know how long a wait there will be.”

“I don’t care who I talk to,” the client says. You hear that from new clients a lot, before they pick a favorite operator. All the regulars have a favorite. “This was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say hastily. Your boss will kill you if you lose a client. Even a weird client. “Tell me what you want to talk about. That way I can pick the right partner to send you to.”

“I don’t know,” the client says. You glance at the info Mizuho sent and get a shock — the client’s nineteen, same as you. “It’s — fuck. It’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you say on autopilot, which is apparently the wrong thing to do. You can practically feel the client’s embarrassment oozing through the phone, and you spin off into a sales pitch that sounds terrible even to you. “Well, you’ve called the right service. I know a ton of our companions who can make your day really special.”

#shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki Tomura x reader #Tomura Shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #clown hours

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chibipeachu · 4 months

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“Love Story” ¦ R.J

wc: 4k (I was rly excited ok...)

pairing: richie jerimovich X fem!reader

warnings: none, just a cute love story, semi proofread 🤍

A/n: seeing sooo many proposals during taylor's tour and he would so drop the question during your guys song!!

Richie signed as the bell above the door rang, it had been a night filled with drunk men and their hookers all night long.

As he walked out to the front he froze at the sight of a girl, giggling to herself as she scrolled through her phone before walking up to the counter. “Hi mikey, wait you’re not mikey?” She slurred as she looked at richie.

“Nope, he’s out for the night, what can i get you though sweetheart?” The girl looked up at the menu and pouted her lips.

Richie smiled as he noticed her smudged lipstick and gloss.

“I’ll have, um..” She froze as her gaze felt unfocused as she tried to read the board. “I’ll get whatever, you choose for me!” She grinned at the forty year old.

Richie signed and nodded to himself. “Got it, just uh go sit before i come back to find you passed out on the floor.”

The girl saluted before stumbling to a barstool and patiently waited for her food.

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

The smell of bell peppers made the girl lift her head from the sticky table, she smiled at richie as he placed her food in front of her, it was a cheesesteak.

”It smells soo good!” She squealed, clapping her hands and dancing in her seat a bit. Richie scoffed, amused at the girl.

“Wanna join me?” Her question caught richie off guard, he glances down at the girl as she held up half of the sandwich towards him.

“I couldn’t, i gotta handle the front.” Richie declined.

The girl gave richie a look before looking around the empty restaurant, “yeah ok, since it’s suuupper busy..” She giggled, earning a playful eye roll from richie who sighed before sitting down next to you.

As they pair sat in silence, richie sighed as his phone lit up with a text from tiff saying she was keeping eva for his weekend due to ballet practice. “So what’s your name?” the girl questioned, taking a bite of her sandwich before looking up at richie who picked at the small side of fries.

“Richie..” He smiled as the girl nodded at his name. “How is it spelt? Like ritchie valens or richie rich?” She questioned, swapping richie for the fries.

Richie chuckled before taking a bite, “richie rich, i guess?” He shrugged and watched as you quietly hummed to yourself as you ate. “How ‘bout you?”

She tiled her head to the side. “How about me, what?” she questioned.

As richie re-asked the question her eyes started to droop.

“Y’know you have pretty eyes..” The girl tiredly pointed her manicured nails towards richie, she slowly slid the sandwich towards richie and fell asleep, her forehead on the cold, but sticky tabletop.

Richie chuckled softly and started to clean up around you.

After bit he had noticed your phone started to ring, he sighed as there was no sign of you waking up to answer.

Picking up the phone, he was greeted to questions. “WHERE ARE YOU!” a voice yelled.

Richie pulled the phone away from his ear. “Yeah, uh your friend fell asleep here at the beef and if there’s a way for you to come pick her up-!” RIchie was cut off by a frustrated groan.

“Fuck, daddy’s gonna lose it if he find out she’s not with us!” The voice sighed before asking for the street name.

A few minutes had passed and a white car had pulled up outside of the diner, he was in the back for the most of them carrying their friend to the car but by the time he walked back to the front, he noticed as the car doors slammed shut before taking off.

He sighed as he looked around the restaurant and froze at the sight of a pink prada bag on the countertop, hidden by a mountain of napkins. “Shit..” He cursed as he picked up the bag and looked for an piece of identification.

He quietly hummed to himself as he pulled out a gucci wallet, “who’s sugar baby got lost?” he questioned to himself as he flipped it open to find tons of cards and cash, a purse snatcher would be in heaven by the amount left carelessly in your bag.

As richie went to give up in his search, he froze at the sight of a pair of sunglasses in a satin bag with your initials embroidered.

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

You sighed as you walked into the beef, it had been your sister’s bachelorette the night before, somehow you had slipped away from the group and into your favorite diner.

“Hi mikey..” You greeted the shaggy haired owner, who watched you walk in, clearly enjoying you fighting a hangover.

“You look like shit.” He grinned at you.

“I feel like it..hey did i happen to leave-” before you could finish your words, mikey held up your bag with a smirk. “Oh this?” He teased.

“Don’t be a dick, give it..” You held your hand out for it, he sighed and handed it over to you. “Could i also get something to go please?” You smiled at mikey.

“I don't know, you did tell my employee he had pretty eyes last night..” HIs words made you widen your eye at him, slowly shaking your head. “No i didn’t…did I?” You questioned yourself quietly.

As you sat down questioning yourself, mikey had placed your typical order and walked to the office.

A basket of fries made you brake away from your thoughts. You glanced up at the employee and immediately got flustered, it was the guy from the previous night.

“Um, hi?” You offered a small smile, earning a chuckle from him. “Hi, here’s your order to-go.” He handed you the bag. You shifted your eyes from the to-go box to his blue eyes.

“You’re richie, right?” You questioned, trying to rack your brain for his name. “Uh, yeah.” He scratched his scruff. “I’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable with my comments..” You apologized, fiddling with your bag.

“With comments like that, i’d hope to see you in here more often now!” He smiled at you.

You grabbed the to-go box and nodded and let out a chuckle. “Will do, richie!” You smiled and waved as you exited the shop.

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

As the weeks went on, you and richie had grown close, you had often stopped by the beef to greet him and the others, you often hung out around the shop till closing with richie and spent hours talking ot one another, it had gotten to the point where you gave him your number to spent more hours of the day talking.

You smiled as you sat at the counter of the beef and watched as richie cleaned the tabletops.

“No shot, your favorite artist is taylor swift!” You smiled as he sighed and continued to wipe down the counters. “I have a mini swiftie, after a while t-swift grows on you.” He smiled.

You laughed, “favorite song then?” you asked as you sipped from your cup. “Probably, cardigan..” He paused and took a second to think about his answer before he glanced at you and placed the cloth over his shoulder.

“Yours?”

You pouted out your lip, thinking over all her songs, “love story.” You smiled as richie smile grew.

“What? I like the classics..” You both chuckled, richie focused on getting a sticky spot on the counter, not noticing you grabbing his phone which was connected to the shop’s music.

“You’ll be prince, and i’ll be the princess!” You sang out loud, your arm extended towards richie who turned his head to watch.

He laughed, amused by your little show, thankfully he had set out the close sign early so no customers would try to ruin the moment.

“It’s a love story, baby just say yes!” He continued while laughing to himself, silently admiring your bright smile.

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

“Eva!”

“Lovie!” The little blonde squealed as richie unbuckled her from her carseat.

“What are you doing here?” She questioned as you walked up to her, a small bouquet of tulips in your hand. “I’m here to watch a very talented ballerina.” You grinned.

You knelt down to her height and handed her the flowers. She squealed and held them to her chest.

“What do you say to lovie, eva?” Richie questioned, watching your interaction with a grin on his face.

“Thank you!” She gave you a small side hug before walking to the doors to the theater, her ballet bag being carried by richie.

“Is tiff and frank here already?” You questioned as you noticed all the moms, fixing their children’s hair.

“Tiff hasn’t said, i’ll go give her a call, could you-!”

“I’ll go watch eva.” You cut richie off, giving him a reassuring smile, taking eva’s bag from him.

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

Eva had gotten antsy, as more kids would pass her, hair done and ready to perform.

Tiff had told richie her and frank had gotten a flat tire and wouldn't be able to make it to her recital.

Richie sighed as he brushed eva’s hair into a lumpy bun. “It has to be smooth!” Eva sighed, frustrated.

You quickly placed down your bag and eva’s bag next to richie and motioned for the brush and hair tie.

“I can do your hair, since somebody..can’t..” You told eva, side glancing towards richie was sat beside you both on a chair, looking defeated. Eva giggled.

You managed to get her hair into a neat bun, eva sighed as she noticed her tiny baby hairs sticking up in the front of her forehead.

“Wipsy’s again!” She whispered, annoyed with her hair.

“I have those too, here richie could you hand me my purse?” You turned to your boyfriend who jumped and quickly handed you the bag.

You smiled to yourself as eva held your purse in her lap, watching as you dug through your bag before pulling out a tube of hair slick gel. “Always prepared, huh?” Richie smiled as you gently held eva’s chin and slicked the hair’s down.

“Want a little chapstick?” You questioned the little blonde who nodded and pouted her lips, you quickly grabbed your small tin of chapstick and added a bit to her lips, you quickly handed her the tin, she quickly placed it in the bag and turned to the side to look at herself.

“So cute!” You smiled as you watched her smile and bat her eyelashes at herself in the mirror.

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

You sighed as you tried to closed the mansion quietly, as the weeks past, you and richie had gone hours on the phone with each other, spending most weekdays with one another, doing basic tasks.

As you quietly tip toped to the stairs to finally got to bed a light turned on from the living room, making you freeze at the sight.

“Tsk, tsk, sneaking out like a teen again?” Your father’s gruff voice spoke up.

You sighed and placed your purse on the stairs before walking over to your father, where he sat in his chair, shuffling a deck of player cards he kept on the coffee table.

“No, i was just trying to not disturb anyone’s sleep with the door slamming.” You sat down across from hi, on the coffee table.

“You’ve been out very late, this past few months, is there something i should know about?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“And now that i’m looking at you, whose jacket is that?” He questioned, the look of distaste clear on his face

Your breath hitched, as you went to open your mouth, a light turned on in the front hall, making you and your father turn to the source.

There stood, your mom, she had a tired look on her face. “Will you too go to bed?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“In a moment, answer me young lady..” Your father pressed.

“NOW!” Your mom hissed at your father, who sighed and got up from his chair and placed the cards beside you.

“This talk isn’t over yet.” You nodded as he wished you goodnight before walking up the stairs.

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

The next morning you sighed as you drove your sister to pick up her veil from the bridal store.

“What’s got you so down?” She frowned.

“Nothing..” You brushed her off, huffing as you waited for the light to turn green. “I know you better then that, what’s the matter?” She pressed, turning to face you.

“Nothing’s the matter..” You tried to brush the topic off.

“Does it have to do with dad last night?” Your sister, questioned, making you turn to her.

“Did everyone hear our conversation last night?” You groaned, continuing to the bridal shop.

“So who’s the lucky person?” Your sister grinned as you shook your head, a small smile growing on your face.

“Do you remember when I wandered away from you guys during your bachelorette party?” You asked, occasionally glancing over to your sister.

“Yeah, we were laughing cause you were knocked out by the time we got there.” She giggled at the memory.

“Well, I guess i had drunkenly started to flirt with one of the night workers and i may have been constantly went back and possibly at one point he became my boyfriend.” You sighed, your sister sat in the passenger seat with a grin.

“What’s his name?” She teased.

“Richie, richie jerimovich.” You said with a smile at the thought of your boyfriend.

“Older dude?” She questioned, picking at her nails, her smile still obvious.

“He’s in his 40s, so a bit older then me..” You confessed.

“Well, after we pick up my wedding errand, how about I go and meet this richie guy?” She proposed.

“Sure, he starts at 2 and by the time I find room in the trunk for your things and we drive over, he should be working.”

Your sister squealed, excited for you.

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

You glanced at your sister who nodded to herself as she took in the area, you quickly parked the car on the street and got out.

“You’re just gonna leave the car parked here?” Your sister questioned, noticing a group of men not too far from the shop, looking at you both.

“It’s fine.” You brushed her off and looked back at the group and walked closer to the curb. “Crooked john, will you watch my car for me please.” You hollered out to the man, he nodded at you.

“See it’s fine.” You smiled and walked into the beef.

“Welcome ladies, what can i get you started with today?” Richie smirked as you and your sister walked into the shop.

“Hello..” Your sister squeaked out, looking around the building.

“Hi richie, can we get two cheesesteaks please?” You batted your eyelashes at him, making him smile and lean a bit over the counter to kiss your cheek. “Alright take a seat, sweetheart.”

You smiled and motioned for a booth for your sister to sit down in.

While waiting you and your sister went over her wedding plans, her day had been arriving very quickly.

“Alright, two cheesesteak sandwiches.” Richie smiled as he placed them onto the table, your sister perked up and and hummed in delight at the smell of the food.

“Hey, sweetheart,”

You glanced up at richie who looked at you up and down. “Yes?”

“I thought you didn’t know where my jacket went..hmm?”

You felt red, he had caught you red-handed.

“I possibly found it in the back seat..”

He shook his head and kissed the top of your head.

“So richie, I trust you already know not to hurt my sister, correct?” Your sister questioned, swallowing her fry before turning to richie with a straight face.

“Would never dream about it.” Richie gave her a reassuring smile.

“Good.” She smiled before eating her food.

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

“Do I look alright?” Richie asked you as he watched you fill in your eyeliner.

“You look fine, stop messing with your tie!” You scolded, turing to look at richie, who raised his hands up in surrender.

After richie and your sister’s meeting, she had invited richie to her wedding rehearsal, you both thought it was finally time to introduce richie to your parents and other family members.

“I’m just freaking out, a gorgeous girl with a sad bastard?” He snorted as he walked into his bedroom and picked your bag up from the end of his bed to sit down.

“You mean a gorgeous girl with her fantastic boyfriend?” You smiled as you walked closer to him, slotting yourself between his legs.

“Tonight will be fine, it’s a step in the next direction!” You smiled down at him, softly holding his chin in your palms.

Richie just smiled and places a kiss on your palm.

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

Richie gave you a small smile as you squeezed his hand as you both walked into the venue, in the middle of the room, stood your sister and her fiance.

Your sister perked up and waved you both over.

“C’mon..” You gently tugged richie over to your sister and said your greetings to her.

“Mom and dad are outside.” Your sister whispered to you and richie as she hugged your both.

You nodded and took a deep breath before looking at richie, who’s grip had gotten a bit tighter.

Richie sighed and squeezed your hand twice before walking over to your parents.

“Mom, dad, i’d like to introduce to you guys my boyfriend.” You announced, making your mom smiling at richie.

“So this is the one that’s been making my daughter so smiley?” She teased before hugging richie and hugged her back.

You smiled at the pair and glanced back to your dad and felt your smile drop, his face was upset, he eyed richie up and down.

“Dad, this is richie jerimovich..” You guided richie toward’s your dad.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” Richie held his hand out.

Your father just watched richie for a moment before turning to you.

“We will be having a word after your sister’s rehearsal.” He said sharply, walking back into the venue without turning back.

Your mother sighed as she watched him, she turned to you and richie and reassuringly rubbed your arms.

“He’ll come around, he’s not always a grump.” She smiled before following after your dad into the venue.

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

The rehearsal had a tint of tension in the air as you got in place for the vows.

Richie’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing as he watched you elegantly walk down the isle before your sister and father.

As the rest of the guests chatted inside, your father had taken richie outside and forced you to stay inside with your mother and sister.

“I’m not an idiot you know..” Your father sighed as he looked at richie.

“Excuse me?” Richie questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I know what you want with my daughter, and i’m not gonna let you hurt her.” Your father argued.

“I don’t know what your talking about sir, i love your daughter, truely.” Richie defended himself. “Bullshit, you’re not the first asshole to try this whole nice guy act with her!”

RIchie scoffed and rubbed his stubble, trying to contain himself.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about sir..” Richie sighed.

“Yeah right, that’s why your only see your daughter on certain weekends,” Your father scoffed.

“Just face it, you and her are from two very different lives, you don’t deserve to have her.”

Richie let his words sink in, without a second thought richie scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “You can talk shit about me all you want but you don’t know your family, do you? I may only see eva evry other weekend but hell, at least i know my kid’s favorite things!” RIchie argued back.

“I forbid you to speak or lay eyes on my daughter!” Your father yelled before walking back into the venue, you watched with wide eyes as you could see your dad and richie going back and fourth.

You quickly excused yourself and went to go outside but your father quickly dragged you away from the doors, you swatted his hand away from you.

“I have to go talk to richie, let me go dad!” You groaned.

“I’ve had enough of this ridiculous non sense “relationship” you have!” Your father yelled, making you scoff at his words.

“What? Gonna forbid me from seeing him?” You mockingly asked, your father only raised and eyebrow and nodded.

You froze and stared at him, in shock. “You can’t be serious…i’m an adult!” You grumbled out.

“DO you wish to see your sister walk down that aisle? To meet your future nieces and nephews?” He questioned, seemingly mocking you.

Your eyes began to water, scoffing at him while trying to wipe your tears.

“This is bullshit..” You muttered as you walked away from him and walked outside and look around for richie but didn’t see him anywhere, your phone buzzed from your palm, you tearfully unlocked it and sighed as a text from richie popped up.

R ♡ - i hate myself for this but i’m breaking up with you.

You sobbed at the text, your excitement for the night has washed away and was now replaced with grief of the loss of your relationship.

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

“You what!” Tina yelled at richie as he told everyone you’d no longer be visiting the beef on special visits for him.

“I had to T, her dad was right, her and I aren’t meant to be..” Richie sighed, mikey scoffed at his best friend.

“You’re an idiot!” Mikey declared, leaning next to marcus who shook his head at richie.

“It had to be done ok, or else I wouldn't have been able to give her the life she deserves.” Richie sighed, tired of everyone pointing out his dumb mistake of leaving you.

“How do you know she wants a life like she’s used to?” Tina questioned, making Richie look at her curiously.

“Did she hate going to see Eva perform? Did she hate coming here to bring you stuff you forgot? Did she-!” Tina was cut off by Richie realizing you always wore a big smile doing simple domestic things with him, going to the auto shop, buying groceries, watching movies while binging on dollar candy.

“I fucked up!” Richie groaned, searching for his keys.

Mikey chuckled as richie rushed past the doors and out to his car, everyone gathered around the back door and watched as richie manically peeled out of the parking lot.

“Think he remembers it’s her sister’s wedding today?” Tina questioned, making mikey and marcus laugh.

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

You smiled as your sister and her new husband walked down the aisle together.

You and the best man walked behind them and out into the hallway, you watched and greeted some guests as they exited the wedding hall and waited outside to see the bride and groom off to the reception.

Your father quietly walked past you, whatever phone call must've been important by the way he separated from everyone, you sighed, it had been weeks since your breakup with richie, your father had hardly spoke to you since.

“He’ll come around honey..” Your mother tried to soothe you, rubbing you back gently and guided you to see your sister off.

You smiled as you were handed a small can of bubbles to blow over the couple as they walked to their car.

The wedding had filled most of your time, it was a nice distraction from the pain, the wedding would’ve been better if richie was by you the whole time.

As you all watched your sister happily wave to everyone as they drove off, a warm hand on your shoulder made you turn to see your father with a sad smile on his face.

“Father?” You questioned, he sighed and motioned for you to step away from the crowd.

“I haven't been the best father as you've gotten older, i still act as if you are this little girl who has to respect me and do as I say,” Your father sighed out.

You tilted your head, confused.

“And with your sister being engaged and you showing up with a boyfriend, i felt old, my little girls were growing up, i was just- no I still am terrified of either of you getting used by someone who doesn't care.” He teared up at bit, you half smiled at him.

“Mr jermovich opened my eyes for me, i hardly knew you or your sister beside what you liked as kids, you’re a grown woman now, and if he’s what makes you happy, i’ll just to pray he doesn’t end up in a back alley.” He joked, making you snicker before hugging him.

“What if it’s late for him to take me back?” you stressed.

Your father chuckled and rubbed your back in comfort, “He’s smitten with you, you’ll find a way.”

You smiled at him and hugged him once more before he tore himself away and walked outside to join your mom in the car and drove off the reception.

With a little bit of acceptance you smiled and walked to your car and unlocked the door when a honk came from behind you.

“Yo, sweetheart!” A raspy voice called out

You rolled your eyes and ignored it. “I get i fucked up, but you don’t gotta ignore me!” A familiar voice shouted.

Quickly whipping around to face the car, a grin grew on your face, richie with his head out his window, still in his work shirt. You quickly ran over to the car. “What are you doing here?” You laughed as he smiled up at you.

“Had to make sure a pretentious asshole didn’t try to swoop in.” He grinned.

As you looked at richie it all clicked together, the phone call your dad was on, the reassurance that richie was smitten with you…”You called my dad?” You giggled.

“Took a lot to get your family’s help to spit it out but we got there!” He sighed.

“I love you.” You confessed, making richie laugh and pull you into a deep kiss.

“Love you.” He muttered against your lips. You pulled away snickering “you pulled a sixteen candles!” motioning towards your bridesmaid dress, and his casual wear.

“Just get in the car..” He laughed.

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

“What song you excited for E?” You asked the little girl as you, tiffany, frank, eva and richie sat together, waiting for taylor to come out and perform.

“Love story!” Eva squealed, clapping making tiff and richie smirk at her.

“Me too!” You laughed as the little girl, swung her legs and looked around the stadium.

You leaned back into richie and smile at him. “I think our song is love story, we relate to the lyrics a lot.” You joked making richie chuckle before kissing your cheek.

“We’ve come along away from your dad trying to keep you away from me..” He muttered to himself, the weight of the velvet box in his pocket, feeling heavier than before.

As the show went on, you all had stood up along with other people in your section as love story played.

“Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head, i don’t know what to think!” You sang along with eva, not noticing frank and tiff pulling out their phone’s.

Richie looked at the stage and pulled the ring out and turned to you as you sang, eva tugged on your arm and pointed behind you towards richie.

You turned to see richie on one knee as the lyrics to love story lined up.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, marry me juliet, you’ll never have to be alone, i love you and that’s all i really know…

You gasped at the sight, everyone in your section screamed at the proposal and cheered as you nodded at richie, who quickly got up and pulled you into a kiss, eva cheered along with tiffany who finished recording you both.

“I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress, it’s a love story baby just say yes!” You and richie sang and you cradled the new ring on your hand.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x y/n #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich fluff #the bear x reader

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wutheringcaterpillar · 6 months

Note

I love love love your work so much!!! How about a soft!dark!Tommy fic where the reader cheats (she doesn’t love him) and he still wants her back

Warnings: Infidelity, p in v, smut, altered timeline/storyline, cheating, dark!tommy, a singular face slap, relationship problems, mental diagnosis

thank you for the request hope you enjoy!

In the beginning, there was admiration and love, in the end destruction and deceit claimed your lives.

When Oswald Mosley walked into your life, he was a married man as you were an engaged woman.

His wife was quite beautiful but the attitude and extravagant confidence was all too apparent and took over the room for you to want any friendship with her, to which Tommy respected.

His delicate facial structure swooned many women, similar to Tommy’s yet though he had lingering eyes from time to time, they always seemed to settle upon you instead of his wife.

He took an interest in your life, hobbies, dishing out flattering compliments here and there unlike your fiance whom just seemed consumed with business.

Months carried on, much like the seasons with many interactions involving the charming man but nothing but innocent, friendly banter occurred until the charity event you were attending tonight that Tommy was unable to join as he had a business meeting in downtown London.

Sitting at the bar, you’d run into one of your friends from college, sharing small talk and stories of the adventures you’d endured. Not a singular impure thought had crossed your mind, until an all too familiar voice spoke from behind you.

“Is that the sensational Ms. Y/L/N I see?” The seductive, yet charming voice pulled you away from your drink. Your subtle eyes turning to face the handsome, well complimented man.

Glancing around the room, to ensure none of Tommy’s men were around, you decided what was wrong indulging in an innocent conversation. After all the endless compliments he gave you made you feel good inside, something you hadn’t felt in awhile.

“Where’s Mr. Shelby tonight?”

“He’s um- out of town for business matters.” Pursing his lips together in disapproval, he signaled for the bartender, ordering drinks and somehow managing to place your favorite without even asking.

“A shame, a lovely lady like you. He shouldn’t trust other men to be able to control their arousal looking at such a dazzling woman. Especially with a figure like yours, you can’t find that often Y/N, you’re one of a kind if I’d say so myself.” Your cheeks blushed an amber shade of red, while he smiled slyly. There’s no harm in having a singular drink with a friend, right?

Taking his seat next to you, your friend whispered a word, ensuring that you’d call her if you were in danger as she had to leave due to an appointment early in the morning.

Motioning that you’d be alright, Mosely smiled widely, insisting on a cheers to the glorious happenings of life.

What was planned to be one drink turned into several as conversation carried on miraculously. He was quite an interesting character unlike his wife whom had left with another man.

“How does your marriage work? There’s no jealousy? Or hatred?” Mosley laughed coyly, simply intrigued by your question.

“Oh we both have the understanding of having a bit of scandalous fun, letting loose. Surely it gets boring looking at the same person all the time. Gives us a well needed break. I can assure you she won’t be telling Mr. Shelby. As shallow as it may sound she only cares about herself. As long as I give her attention when she desires it, then there is really no need to fret.” You clicked your tongue, attempting to wrap your head around that way of life. You had tried desperately to be intimate with Tommy, searching for his attention on a daily basis yet he seemed to not have a care in the world, simply setting you aside.

Maybe there was some truth to what Mosley was saying, but if Tommy really loved you like he claims to, you couldn’t possibly get bored of the person you’re in love with. Now here you were wondering if you ever truly were in love with him.

Reeling you from your thoughts, Mosley spoke confidently.

“It would probably be a tremendous stress relief for you. I have a room booked just down the avenue all to myself, since my lovely wife decided to spend the night elsewhere. What do you say in indulging in a bit of fun with one another. You always have been quite the spectacular interest to me.” Shaking your head and tracing the engagement ring, you thought back to the beginning. When Tommy put in the effort, was willing to do anything for you.

Surely you shouldn’t just throw it away due to relationship problems.

“We mustn’t. It wouldn’t be right.” Everything in you was fighting the urge to not go against the morally correct thing to do, yet you weren’t exactly saying no, and the liqour was encouraging the impure thoughts of what you’d like to do to this man.

It took you by surprise when he settled his hand upon your thigh beneath the bar.

“Y’know Y/N. Tommy would never have to know, and I must say. I’ve never seen your adoring smile as much before as I have tonight. You should indulge and aim for happiness in life. No regrets, so now I bid the fair question. Are you happy revoking yourself of such spontaneous pleasure and a night of fun or do you want to live in the ill construct of society?” He had caught you completely off guard, your mind was running a million miles a minute. You wanted to be a good fiance, you really did but the convincing, devilishly good looking man had a valid point.

Tommy barely paid any attention toward you, your sex life was nearly non existent, kids seemed to be out of the picture, not wanting to another one after Ruby passed.

If Tommy had taught you one thing, it was how to keep a secret, to move strategically.

Glancing down in curiosity, your eyes fell upon his semi hardened member in his pants, and the liquor was enough to convince you.

“So tell me in all of your beauty, and immaculate body, what’s it going to be Y/N?”

With questionable eyes, before you answered, you picked up the glass finishing off the sour amaretto, letting the liqour quench your thirst while excitement burned between your thighs.

The risk of getting caught and breaking the rules igniting a flame within your soul.

The next thing you knew Mosley’s hands were holding your ass up against the wall of an expensive hotel room, his lips pressed against yours in a heated frenzy of lust.

Your tongue delve into his mouth, battling for dominance, the sweet taste of rum and coke coating his tongue.

Shedding one another of clothing, you hands tangled with his belt, throwing the leather accessory on the carpeted floor, eager to retrieve his coveted member from his pants.

Oh how he made you want to commit terrible sins.

His cock sprang freely, needing desperately to be in between your soaked folds.

“My, my, what a treasure you are.” His voice was low, and flirtatious, one of his eyebrows peaking in interest at the sight of your breasts hanging freely, nipples already hardening from the sight of his nude body, imagining all the positions he could have you in.

“Take me, fuck me before I have the chance to feel any guilt.” He didn’t need another moment of convincing. Finally happy that he has you all to himself for no one to know, but he was sure of one thing. That this whole damn hotel was going to hear just how much he can pleasure you.

Thrusting inside you, you’d forgotten what it felt like to be so full. It had been months since Tommy had made love to you and being with another man felt terribly wrong but also phenomenally right.

“Oh fuck, how I’ve missed this!” Your fingers laced into his smooth, brown strands of hair as his cock infiltrated your blooming rose that was aching to be pollened.

He lifted you from the wall, repositioning you onto all fours on the bed.

He drilled into you relentlessly you ass richocheting with each combustive thrust, his balls merely slapping against your skin.

“Fuck, fuck! Don’t stop!” He smirked to himself, hands settling on your ass cheeks as he slammed into you over and over again relentlessly.

Pulling you back by your hair his lips connected to the warmth of your neck, leaving lavish kisses on your delicate, inviting skin.

You couldn’t help but grind back against him in a melodic rhythm, waves of undeniable pleasure coursing through your veins.

“My darling, we’ve only just begun.” Grabbing your sides and flipping you onto your back, you giggled like a school girl finally feeling happy after so long of being unsatisfied.

It wasn’t until nearly a year later until revelations came to life, a week before your wedding. Tommy had been switching sides unbenknowst to you, yet he allowed the “friendship” to continue on. That didn’t mean he wasn’t hesitant nor idiotic. He paid close attention from afar, deciding he had, had enough when the fourth night a week you hadn’t come home.

Mosley’s visits during the day to your house made him question what he was really there for. The longing stares, the playful insides jokes, the sudden shared interests helped him slowly piece matters together.

Noticing the way you smiled when he walked in the room, the way your eyes lit up like fireworks whenever he’d “accidentally” brush past you.

Tommy was hurt, hoping that this realization couldn’t be true, that he was over reacting. Yet Mosley’s marriage was far from devotion and true love, considering they each slept around as if it were nothing.

Sitting in the leather chair in the living room, he watched the clock tick. Hours on end passing by until you called at midnight, saying “the car had a flat tire and you’d get it looked at in the morning as you were tired”.

Has it really come to this point? The wedding was supposed to be in a week, yet Tommy hadn’t seen you plan for it one bit.

He began to question all the things that went wrong. He admitted he had put business before your relationship, always expecting you to watch Charlie, hardly having sex due to traveling so much for meetings. Could he blame you? There was only one thing for him to do to win back the love of his life.

Curled against Mosley’s chest, the fireplace was the only light in the room, tucked in the wall near the end of the bed.

He was spewing flirtatious jokes in your ear, making you giggle when suddenly the door flew open, causing you to jolt up, pulling the sheet over you breasts until you recognized who was at the door.

“Tommy?” Mosley rolled his eyes, scooting up from his laying position, reteriving a cigarette from the bedside table.

Tommy stood there as pale as a ghost, feeling guilt, knowing full well this was his fault. He should have been a better partner, he should have at the very least tried and now he was paying the price.

Looking at your nude body, entangled in the satin sheets with the enemy, his mouth was subtly agape, how did he not piece the puzzle together.

“What’s the matter Mr. Shelby? Surely this can’t come as a surprise to you. After all, a woman can only go unloved for so long, and a man can’t expect a woman’s love in return if he doesn’t work toward earning it.” Tommy didn’t know what to feel with both sets of your eyes on him. He was angry, upset, saddened, his heart felt like it was stuck in his throat, beating anxiously fast, as if it were a bomb waiting to burst through his skin.

Instead of speaking a word, Tommy simply exited the room, unable to blame either one of you.

Sighing and shoving the sheet off of you, you gathered your clothes, putting them on hastily in a disheveled manner before rushing out after your fiance.

“Oh let the blimey sap go Y/N, you’re better off without him!” Mosely shouted as you slammed the door behind you, smirking in his success that he had won you over, and had you to himself.

Reaching the stairwell, Tommy was sat on the top step, the smoke from his cigarette travelling into the thin air.

Frowning, you took a seat next to him, crossing your arms in shame and guilt.

“How did you know where I was?” He stared off into the distance, staring blankly at the wall.

“I have eyes everywhere Y/N. Rookie mistake only using this hotel and occasionally his house when the whore of a wife is gone rendezvousing with another man.” You thought you had been extremely articulate and careful, yet Tommy still found a way to outsmart you. Not once did you see any of his men in the same vicinity as you.

“So how long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a few months now. Should’ve known sooner but I guess I’m not home enough or treat you well enough so you go and fuck the fascist.” Scoffing, he turned to you with a look of disapproval, but you weren’t intimidated anymore.

“I never promised you anything. I’ve given you everything for years on end, yet you can’t give me the one thing I’ve asked for.” In a quick, flash of a movement Tommy slapped his hand back against your cheek, grabbing your chin in an angered movement forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“You know I lost Ruby. You know damn well I’ve given you a house to live in. I’ve given you money, food. I’ve taken you off the streets. I’ll be damned if I don’t get a second chance. I wouldn’t be wasting my time here with you if I didn’t care Y/N.” Your eyes were wide in terror as he had never spoken to you in such a way, nor ever layed a hand on your skin.

Part of you wanted to scream for Mosley to come save you but the threatening look in Tommy’s eyes was daring you to do so. The once ocean blue eyes, now a venomous shade of sapphire.

“Tommy you’re scaring me.” He released your jaw, knowing that the impending, serious look on his face was enough that you would not run off.

Running your hand over the merely bruised skin, it was quite clear he held back force from the slap to your cheek, but you didn’t want to know what strength he was holding back. You felt as if you deserved it and wouldn’t deny him of that.

“Love is supposed to be scary isn’t it? You won’t find a man that will fight for you the way I am, not on the streets of Birmingham. I won’t allow you to make a fool of me any longer. Nor will I make a fool of you any longer. I will be there, I will show you affection, and mend my dishonarable traits to the best of my ability but you need to work with me Y/N. How am I supposed to know if you’re upset when you go silent, not voicing your concerns. Instead running to another man for a child.” He had a point but seeing his interactions with others made you believe he wasn’t one to negotiate unless it was on his terms, his way.

“Please, he doesn’t even know about that. I just wanted to feel loved, something I haven’t felt in quite a long time and frankly if this is your way of apologizing for always putting me second you can go fuck yourself because you are not the man that I agreed to marry anymore.” When you stood up to go back to the room, Tommy spoke up, dispelling the cigarette onto the lavish, patterned carpet.

“This ends here and now.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Tommy chuckled darkly, pulling an envelope from his coat.

“Read it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you opened the letter to find he had looked into you.

The paper held addresses of family members, formal documents of taxation, and the history of you medical records. How did he get this?

This was private, and completely out of reach from anyone other than yourself.

“What-what is this?” With shaking hands you skimmed the words, recognizing every piece of information to be true.

“I researched you, something I should’ve done when we first met. Or at the very least taken an interest in, like you’ve said. You’ve evaded paying taxes, you were in a mental health institution for nearly two years for attempting to kidnap your sister’s child because the voices in your head told you the child was yours. A diagnosed anxiety ridden schizophrenic. You were released on May 7, due to good behavior and proper medication. Your family disowned you, but you still check in on them, don’t you?” Tears pricked at your eyelids, feeling completely vulnerable and at his mercy. These were all things you should have told him yourself but failed to do so, and now it’s biting you in the ass

“Give me a second chance and I can make this all go away Y/N. Wipe your file clean, adjust the tax forms without anyone knowing and ensuring your family goes unharmed. If I didn’t give a flying fuck about you, I would’ve just left. Can’t you see I love you, and I am trying. I do care for you, and I want to learn more, be able to help you more. You have to let me in.” A loud bang caused you to jump up from the floor. Glancing down the hallway, there were two men holding Mosely whom contained a bloody nose and a black eye. A gun placed directly beneath his chin, while your hands flailed to cover your mouth in shock and worry. The tears flooding down your heated cheeks.

“He doesn’t care about you y’know? He’s a fascist, looking to take the world for his own, fucking the hard working citizens and low income families. So either you come with me, and see what a good husband I can be, or Mosley here gets a bullet to the skull. After all I still love you even after all of the secrets you’ve kept from me. I suppose we’re even now, eh?” The men lifted Mosley, releasing the safety on the gun, making you wince and coming to an abrupt decision.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll stay with you! Just don’t hurt him. Let him go and we can all move on, okay?! But I swear Tommy, things better be different or I will take the streets over you.” Being satisfied with your answer, Tommy’s men dropped him in the hallway while your fiancé held out his hand, escorting you back home with him where you belonged.

Mosley stayed away to your surprise. Tommy and you coming to an agreement to push the wedding to a further date, mending and working on your issues like you should have done very long ago.

Tommy agreed to give you a child on the condition, that you communicated your feelings to which you obliged once he agreed to be more intimate and loving, coming to the realization business is not always first.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #oswald mosley #oswald mosley x reader #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #oswald mosley imagine #ranaewrites #request

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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hey! i just broke up w my bf of almost two years today and have been really sad.

I wanted to thank you for your works bc there helping me get through this. your hotch x reader works are keeping me sane

idk if your interested but maybe a request of reader breaking up with their partner and is very sad was bc they were so busy w the bau and life so they think its best and hotch is there for her and comforts them. he has feelings for them but doesnt want to make a move bc yk newly single. but he does little things to make her feel better bc he likes to see her smile :)

this is completely self service so you dont have to write but i love you works i think ur my fav writer on here :) i hope all is well love 💜

hi lovey! first off, i'm so sorry that you're going through a breakup. I hope that this can help even just a little bit, please take care of yourself and eat something yummy <333

Today holds new experiences for both you and Aaron. For example, you've never seen him in sweatpants before, and he's never seen you with 4 hours worth of tear-induced eye bags.

As luck would have it, when you turn into the tissue aisle, the metal bars of another cart smash into your own. They weren't going fast, but you were, hellbent on getting what you need and getting out again, so the screeching of metal on metal only makes your headache worse.

"Sorry," You rush, keeping your eyes averted as you yank your cart away from the other. You keep conversation short, but the voice that comes from the person you'd just rammed into makes you stiffen instinctually.

"Y/N?"

It's Hotch.

It's your boss, the man who you try extra hard to be nothing but professional around. The man who's seen you only in perfectly dry cleaned pantsuits and neat hair is seeing you in pajama pants and crocs with a nose so swollen it looks like you've been stung by a bee.

"Hotch," You cringe, nodding politely as you try maneuvering your cart around his, "Sorry for bumping into you. I was in a hurry."

"I can see that," He grabs onto the bars of your cart to stop you from pushing it anywhere, and you chance a cautious look up at his face; his brow is knit in concern, and his eyes are shining with the same look. But your glance upwards reveals that his son is with him, a boy no more than four years old sitting in the cart and looking at you with a tiny hint of terror on his little face, something that probably stems from your no-makeup zombie look. He's mid-chew on a tiny handful of popcorn that he'd probably begged his dad for at the front.

"What happened?" Aaron asks, pulling your attention back to him, and you're slightly relieved he doesn't go for 'Are you alright?'. Clearly, you're not.

"Uh," You sniffle, chuckling dryly, "Bad breakup. Just- getting some tissues, that's all."

"Oh." He hums, hand loosening on your cart, "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um," You glance around the store, knowing not many people are there, but it would still be weird to open up a therapy session in the TP aisle, "No, it's okay. Thank you, though. Really, I appreciate it."

"Okay," Aaron nods, though none of the concern has left his expression, "But if you'd like to some other time, please remember I'm here if you need me. Even if it's late, if you need help I'll give it to you."

His sincerity brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes that he smiles sadly at, and you smear a hand over your eyes to get rid of them, "Thanks, Hotch."

"Mhm," He hums, looking ready to let you go until his son hooks a chubby fist into his shirt.

"Hm?" Aaron looks down, and leans his head next to Jack's when the little boy tugs him closer.

They huddle for a moment, Jack whispering into Aaron's ear, and the man's hand tightens around your cart once more. Just when you thought you'd escaped.

"I think you should." Aaron nods, straightening up, glancing over, and nodding his head towards you, "Go ahead, buddy."

Jack looks up at you with that same hint of apprehension you'd seen earlier, but he digs a fist into his popcorn bucket and extends the hand to you. You actually feel your heart melting, the organ liquifying and dripping through your ribcage to pool like goo in your stomach.

"Uh- maybe," Aaron reaches for the bucket, intent on giving you a handful that hasn't touched sticky toddler hands, but you take Jack's offering without hesitation.

"Thank you, honey," You croon, and he drops the kernels into your open palm, "That does help, popcorn makes me much less sad."

"Daddy makes it for movie night." Jack's voice is soft and sweet, and you smile, sniffling weakly once more.

"Really? That sounds fun, what movies do you watch?"

"We're watching Monsters University tonight," Aaron informs you, then his posture straightens as an idea blooms in his brain, "Y'know, if popcorn makes you less sad, I think you should come and have some with us."

"Oh," Your eyes widen slightly, and you shake your head on impulse, "No, that's okay. I couldn't-"

"I'm asking you to." It's the firm voice Aaron uses whenever he's giving someone orders around the office; you suppose he can't separate his work life and home life completely.

"I don't like the thought of you being alone," Aaron admits, eyeing the ice cream already in your cart, "How about we pick up another pint and head to checkout?"

"I'll be okay," You reach for a package of tissues, extra large, "Don't worry about it, Aaron."

You don't see it, but Aaron pinches Jack's side lightly, spurring the boy into action.

"Please come over tonight," Jack begs, and you swear he's making his eyes shiny on purpose, "Mike Wazowski is funny, and you can't be sad if you're watching something funny."

Aaron raises his eyebrows at you, and you see the faint hint of a smirk playing at his lips; got you.

You take a deep breath in, speaking on the exhale, "Alright. Um, can I bring anything else?"

"Pajamas, maybe." Aaron hums, "Movie nights are always better in pajamas."

You glance disdainfully down at your outfit, ragged pajama pants and a sweatshirt, "Check."

"Perfect," Aaron chuckles, finally letting go of your cart and turning it towards the ice cream aisle, "Let's go, buddy, if Y/N's coming over tonight, you need a bath. She doesn't wanna sit with a stinky boy."

"I'm not stinky!" Jack insists, looking like he's never been more offended in his life.

Aaron leans in, theatrically sniffing at the space near Jack's shoulder. He bugs his eyes out, turning his head to the side and fake-coughing, "Woah."

Jack roars with laughter at his dad's dramatics, feet kicking at his Aaron's stomach, and the sound of his giggles make the popcorn you're munching on taste a little bit sweeter.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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carolmunson · 2 years

Text

peanut butter vibe. (steve harrington x thick!reader)

fulfilling my own request for mean!hot!thick!reader and hot!rich!wealthy!corporate!steve harrington who is not so secretly in love with you. takes place in 1996 - reader and steve are 29 turning 30

word count: 10.2K

warnings: 18+ minors dni, f!reader, smut smut smut smut, there is smut everywere in this. from flashback smut to actual smut, they've BEEN fucking. mild daddy kink, face sitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), references to shower sex. body type mention, very little body insecurity mention, reference to an ex boyfriend saying reader was 'too big' for something but it's not like -- something that they take into consideration. dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, 'good girl' etc.), mild choking, steve is so bitchy but also so soft in this i hate him.

"Hi Stevie, it's me. I'm uh, I'm back a little early, Carly's having her baby soon -- I know it was a little weird last time with Andy being with me. We um, we broke up so he's not here this time. It wasn't like a big blow out or anything but -- why am I talking about this on your answering machine? Sorry. I'll be at Porter's tonight around 6 if you wanted to meet me there? It'd be cool to see you, I guess. -sigh- It's hard to bully you when you aren't responding. Anyway, bye -- I know you'll be there at 5:57 because you can't wait to see me."

Steve let out a sigh while the answering machine closed out with a beep, the robotic voice announcing 'End of Messages'. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, tossing a look at the clock on the wall across from him. It was almost quitting time, and Porter's was only a twenty minute drive away from the office. Part of him selfishly didn't want to show up, or maybe show up a little late to make you sweat since you'd forced him to meet your boyfriend last time. Well, ex boyfriend now.

You and Steve weren't friends in high school. He was busy being King Steve, basketball playing jock covered in ladies and popular people. You were busy in drama club and creative writing in the library, protecting your friends from people like Steve. Sure you knew each other, you graduated in the same year, had a couple of classes together -- but neither of you were very interested in offering each other the time of day. Two incredibly different ships passing in the night.

You weren't Steve's type in high school, either. Steve was always caught with what you'd describe as 'pretty little things'. Girls with waists he could wrap his hands around, thin and toned thighs, girls with a little jiggle where it mattered the most and none where it didn't. The girl's wearing bikini's to his house parties when the pool was open. Maybe if you had looked like that, you would've known Steve in high school -- but then again, he wasn't really the kind of guy you were trying to hail down in Hawkins.

When you weren't getting finger blasted backstage by Eddie 'The Freak' Munson when he got to the theater too early for Hellfire Club, you were making eyes at college freshman at the coffee shop you worked at. Something about slightly older men, y'know? A little mature, a little more sure of themselves. Pouring over books and scribbling in their notebooks behind their frames, staying until close to finish a paper or study for an exam. You had one or two wrapped around your finger your senior year before you left to go to school in Chicago. After Chicago it was New York -- working in marketing for a cosmetics line.

You'd come back to Hawkins every year for the holidays, but one year when your grandfather passed away you ended up at Porter's after the funeral. You were 24 and heartbroken, nursing a glass of red wine, looking out of place in your Manhattan clothes in the cozy small town bar.

You were alone at the stools until Steve Harrington came through the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and tie loosened over his button down. He nodded at the bar tender who instinctively poured him a whiskey before he even made it to the barstool two over from you.

"Rough day, Harrington?" he asked, sliding the drink down to him.

"You wouldn't believe, Paul," he shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his chin on one hand, propped up on his elbow, catching your movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked over at you, a endearing smile lighting up his tired face -- that Harrington charm.

"What about you? Rough day?" he asked. At first you didn't realize he was talking to you, looking down into your wine and listening to the drone of whatever sports game was on the TV. You were brought back to earth when a soft 'hey' came from his direction.

"Me? Oh, yeah. My grandpa's funeral," you said with a scrunched face, shrugging, "Sort of a huge downer."

"Oh, wow," Steve said, turning his full body towards you on the stool, "Sorry for your loss -- that's -- yeah that beats my day. Sorry about that."

You murmur a thank you and go back to your wine, hearing him shift in his seat.

"You look really familiar," he says gently, scanning your face.

"We went to high school together," you say with a smile after a sip of your Malbec, "Class of '85."

"Hawkins High? You sure?," his voice gets a little syrupy, "I think I'd remember you."

"I was in drama -- wasn't really your type," you say with a smart head tilt. It didn't bother you that you hadn't been. The same way it didn't bother you that you might've been his type now.

You spent three hours together talking at the bar, exchanging stories about high school and your years out of it. He told you how he just started on the sales team for some big insurance company and felt so out of his depth but at least he got to wear a suit. You told him about your dingy apartment in the Lower East Side and how you missed driving all the time.

You spent another hour fucking in his BMW, riding him in the back seat tucked in a dark corner of the Porter's empty parking lot. Your skirt pushed up over your hips.

"Fuck," Steve grunted through gritted teeth, splayed out in the center of the back seat, his legs as far out as that could go, "Y'feel so fucking good. So fucking good on top of me."

You whimpered in response, the curve of his cock hitting your spongey, sensitive g-spot with every bounce. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his hands moved smoothly over your thighs, finger tips digging into your fleshy hips when he got your reflection in the rear view mirror. Rear view, indeed. He let his eyes rest on the reverberation of your ass coming down on his hips and big legs with each shove down on his cock. The wet smack! of is crotch hitting against your soaked pussy making him want to fuck you even harder. He kneaded your body in his hands, grabbing handfuls of you as he got to your backside, humming while he felt it shake just out of his grasp.

You yelped when his warm palm cracked down on it, an angry sting running through your lower body. You couldn't help but tighten around him, slick dripping over him between your legs.

"Hm, you like that? You like when I smack that fucking ass?" he asked, holding your hips down so he could buck into you with a faster speed. Groaning while he pumped with vigor, you hear another hard crack on your ass resounding in the backseat before you feel the burn of it. Your whines made his cock twitch, slowing down to feel your hips grinding desperately against him for more friction. You slapped your palms gently against his clothed chest, pouting as you shimmied for more of his assault against your aching cunt.

“You love this cock, huh? Look at you, so fuckin' needy for it,” he gloated while your eyes narrowed in on him. Oh no, you weren't about to give Steve Harrington the satisfaction of telling him how fucking amazing his dick felt plowing into you. You weren't about to admit that all the things girls would say about him in high school were true. You reached for his jaw, holding it tight in your hand to look down at him while his hips slowed to a stop. He looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy, his grip loosening on your hips.

“Shut - your mouth,” you hissed down at him. He flushes, a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head, his elbows splayed out next to him.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a soft raise to his eyebrows.

"If you'd like," he starts, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looks unbothered by your act of dominance while he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward to close the gap between you. His hands digging firmly into your ass to keep you balanced on his thighs.

His lips ghost yours while he speaks low and huskily, "I can take you back to mine and show you all the other ways I know how to use it."

He ate your pussy with the lights on and gave you his number before driving you back to your place.

'I like talking to you,' he shrugged, 'Call me whenever.'

And so began a so far, five year friendship -- you'd have long phone calls every few weeks or months when your busy schedules allowed. Staying updated on each other: how work was going, what bad dates you both had been on, what hijinks you'd been getting into with friends. Promotions, birthdays, hardships. It was nice to have a friend from home, someone who sort of knew the people you knew before you left. Nice to gossip a little, nice to laugh with each other.

Every time you came back to Hawkins, you'd meet up at Porter's for a drink. Have a real talk like you did the first night you got to know each other and then somehow, for some reason, you'd end up back at his place.

"What'd I say? Right on time, Harrington," you call out when he comes through the door. Steve groans, looking at his watch -- 5:57 on the dot. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and for a moment the sound of your voice made him grit his teeth.

You watch him check his watch and his smile tightens. He looks good -- suit much more refined from when you first really met him five years ago. Tailored, in a color that compliments his skin, his tie perfectly kept to his chest with what you assume was a pricey tie clip, shoes shined. He'd fit in great on Wall Street if he'd just get a fucking hair cut.

The way he walks towards you holds a different confidence than it had in the last year and a half when you were with Andy. Though it was clear he didn't particularly like Andy, he was perfectly pleasant -- able to slip right into a cadence of faux friendship you only wished Andy could've done. You once him over a second time as he sits in the stool next to you, his cologne was new, but expected. It felt like every man you knew was wearing Aqua di Gio.

"I know you're always so desperate to impress me but I gotta say, you look a little overdressed for Porter's. Were you nervous or something?" you ask sweetly, sipping on your red wine. You slide a whiskey double infront of him and he looks down at it, a frustrated smile breaks against his face. He bites the tip of his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head -- his hair moves with him.

"Looks like you didn't bother getting dressed up for me at all," he bites back, "C'mon, Manhattan -- a Hawkins High sweatshirt?"

Manhattan -- his favorite nick name when you got too big for your britches. A little too snobby for his liking, which was funny coming from a man with more designer clothing than you could dream to afford.

You looked down at yourself, you'd stolen the sweatshirt from your little sister -- your original one too battered and stained to see the light of day again. Sure, maybe your light wash bootcut jeans weren't screaming high fashion but your black square toed boots were cute! You swore you looked good before you left, but suddenly you weren't sure. You'd fallen off dressing 'nice' when you were home, it just wasn't worth it.

"Okay, mean," you spit, not giving off offense -- but not hiding it either.

"I like the boots, though," he shrugs, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The golden brown of the whiskey matched his eyes, they seemed to soften as the liquid met his mouth.

"Top shelf?" Steve's teeth are bright and straight in his smile while he sets the glass down.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you ask, crossing your legs. He burns pink at the question.

"Never," he's earnest in his response, finally making full eye contact with you, "You staying through the holidays?"

"Just for a few days, then heading back to wrap up Q4, I'll be back on the 23rd like always," you say. He nods and stands up, scooting his bar stool closer to yours -- just enough that your knees brushed. He leans forward, acting like it's too loud to hear you but the bar is only half full. You lean forward too, resting your chin on your hand, elbow drilling into your crossed thighs.

"And how's Carly?" he asks, you can see the delicate five o'clock shadow peeking through on his chin and neck. His lips full and wet with whiskey, he slides his tongue over them slowly to collect the flavor.

"So over being pregnant," you roll your eyes over your older sister's dramatics, "But you know -- she's excited. I'm excited, too! I get to live out my dreams of being the mysterious, hot, rich aunt."

"So, what -- Andy didn't want to be the rich uncle?" he asks, you note that he drops 'mysterious' and 'hot'. The mention of Andy stings a little and your eyes droop down to your wine.

"Sorry," he says, his comforting hand falling on your knee, "I'm sorry."

He squeezes your knee when you don't look up at his apology, a beat passes while you contemplate saying something mean -- but it's a little nice to see him feel apologetic.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, his thumb soothingly running back and forth over your thigh as his hand moves further up. Steve frowns at your disappointed face, he hated crossing the line by accident.

You shake your head no, tilting your head back up, "Let's wait on that. I wanna hear about that big promotion you got -- we haven't really gotten to talk about it."

Steve got promoted to Director of Sales six months ago and it was kicking his ass way less than his previous management position. What was most exhausting was how incompetent everyone was.

"Well, you were kind of too busy --" he started, but quickly shook his head out of the bit, "It's fine, it's a lot of work -- god, no one ever knows what they're doing. A lot of directing going into this director of sales thing."

"Aww, my little scumbag -- running the insurance show," you coo, "You should do car sales next, so sleazy, you'll fit right in."

"You're somethin' else, tonight," he laughs, taking his hand off your leg, "And are you any better? Working for a company that tells women they're ugly so they'll buy all your shit? How's it going at L'Oreal anyway?"

You sigh and roll yours eyes, "More like L'Ore-hell. I just transferred into the marketing team from customer insights and it's somehow -- boring? I already know the answers to all of the problems they come up with. It's like they don't know who their customer base is."

Steve's eyes sparkle while you continue to rant about ROIs and think tanks, he loves when you talk about how much you hate your job. You get so passionate, you talk so fast he can barely keep up.

"I wish I could check your blood pressue right now," he jokes, it's the kind of joke adults make. Sometimes it feels like you're both playing the parts of adults at these bar hang outs -- two kids in their parent's clothes on barstools, just giggling.

"When I went to the doctor they had to check it twice because I was talking about work when they checked it the first time -- that's how stressed out it makes me," you huff.

"Sorry, I just made that all about me, can you please let me more about your director job -- are you at least happy about the promotion?" you ask.

You miss his hand on your leg but it's probably just the wine talking. Paul comes over to replenish the glass without asking, you and Steve were both two drinks and go kind of people (sometimes you'd sneak a third if he wasn't paying attention).

"I mean, sure -- I'm a step away from getting into a chair position. I'm making more money than I know what to do with. My dad is thrilled for the first time ever," he explains, always so expressive but you catch him nervously swipe through his hair, "But -- fuck...y'know?"

"I don't know," you laugh into your glass, "What do you mean, 'fuck'?"

"I'm gonna be thirty next year and like, what do I have to show for it other than --"

"Other than being a wealthy hometown high school basketball super star, swimming in pussy, who got a cushy office job two years after graduating because your daddy was tired of seeing you work at Family Video, and now is the director of sales at a big wig insurance company after only what -- seven years in the company? And wears designer suits and is still swimming in pussy?" you say in one breath. He sighs at you and leans his head into his hand, elbow resting on the bar.

"Sure -- I guess," he smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"What more do you want, Steve?" you ask with a shrug, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here."

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean look at you -- every time you come back you have a new story to tell me, something exciting that happened to you. I have -- pfft -- 'They hired a new secretary! Here's the gossip about other people in Hawkins I learned from my mom! I'm still sort of a loser!"

"I mean sure, yeah, you're a loser," you agree, "But not, y'know, not like -- in the bad way."

He tosses you a look but you smile back at it, making him smile back at you. This time it's genuine, you figure the whiskey is helping. Steve sits back up to full height and leans back in his bar stool, knees splaying out. If he took his suit jacket off you'd swear he'd look like one of those 1950's husbands whose a little annoyed that dinner isn't ready yet -- your thighs press tight together.

"I think you sound bored," you suggest, "Like you need something different."

He drums his fingers on the bar, staring at them while he speaks, "I have some options I've been thinking about, but I don't know. Don't wanna make a fool of myself if it doesn't work out."

"Don't wait too long," you say with a shrug, "Another ten years will fly by like that." You snap your fingers for emphasis.

"What happened with Andy?" he presses, sipping his whiskey to down the rest and putting the empty glass on the table.

You 'ugh' under your breath and take a big sip of wine before you feel him tug at the end of the stem, "Sloooow down. Don't wanna to have to carry you out of here."

"You couldn't carry me, Harrington," you say flatly.

"We both know that I can carry you, but okay," he says with a quirked brow, unimpressed with your attitude. The memory of him hoisting you up against the shower tile in his bathroom with your fleshy thighs wrapped tight around him flashes through your mind. Hot breath and hot water running all over you while he grunted into your ear with each desperate thrust. Steve notices your cheeks heat up -- he knows what you're thinking about, because he is too. A satisfied smile settles onto his lips.

"Alright, settle down," you say, pushing your glass a little away from you towards Steve while his next whiskey arrives. You aren't sure if you're talking to him or to yourself.

"I just..." you breathe out of your nose, "It wasn't working out. I was tired of taking care of him."

"Oh, you broke up with him?" Steve confirms.

"Yeah," you sit back a bit, furrowing your brow, "Did you think he broke up with me?"

"I don't know, you seemed really sad about it!" Steve says, his hands outstretched, "I thought he left you."

"He didn't," you say, "I left, but it's still a bummer. Thought maybe he could've been it, y'know? But, thinking back it would've been -- I don't know -- it wasn't going to happen."

"He didn't want to get married?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think that was in his five year plan, he barely took me out to dinner," you complained, "I was paying for everything 'cause I had a better job."

Steve crossed his arms while you talked, frowning while you continued to ramble about Andy and the break up.

"I just felt like I was putting a lot of effort into him, and I wasn't getting anything in return," you shrug, "And like, that's okay. I'm so used to doing that but...I don't know, I think I just would like for someone to take care of me for a change."

You pause, considering what you said and shake your head, "That sounds so selfish, oh my god."

"I don't think it sounds selfish at all," Steve shakes his head, "I think you're sort of asking for the bare minimum -- I mean fuck, he didn't take you out to dinner? I've taken you out to dinner and you've never even been my..."

You're both quiet for a beat while he trails off, neither of you looking at each other. You reach for your wine and he moves the glass away just as your fingers graze the stem. You lift your butt of the stool and pluck it out of his hand, taking another - smaller - sip. He looks at you like a disappointed father.

"Maybe I wanted to try it? Ugh, you're right Manhattan, you're so selfish," Steve teased.

"You don't like Malbec, Stevie," you swirl the booze in your glass, "That's why I order it."

Steve knows that's why you order Malbec, that's why he kept ordering whiskey -- you don't like it, but he'll know you're getting a little drunk if you ask for a sip of his drink. That's when he knows it's time to take you home, he'd sleep with you another night. He doesn't want you to get too drunk tonight, something about your flushed cheeks. The way you look in those boot cut jeans -- especially when you excused yourself to the bathroom and he could watch you walk away. Whew.

Steve waits for the door to close behind you to hail down Paul to get the check.

"She's gonna get pissy that you're covering it," Paul said while passing him the bill for your drinks, "She told me not to let you pay when she got here."

"Paul -- What's she gonna do? Kill me?" he gestures his hand out while using the other to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a few bills, including a generous tip, and passes them to Paul indiscreetly.

"Steve -- come on!" He winces at your voice, "I told you last time I had it next!"

"My hand slipped -- suddenly the money just appeared in Paul's register, there was nothing I could do," Steve held his hands up.

"Paul!" you call down the bar, but the yell turns into a laugh, "You promised you wouldn't let him pay!"

"He threatened me within an inch of my life. Had to let the man do what he wants," Paul said, putting the cash in the register. You settle back into your stool and cross your legs again, smoothing your damp hands on your jeans.

"I'm gonna kill you, Harrington," you mutter to your knees.

"I feel like 'thank you' would've been a much nicer thing to say," he's always so cool when he talks. You envy how easy it is for him to be charming, to turn it on quickly. Sometimes he makes you feel nervous and seventeen again, even though you've done this so many times before. He looks at you over the whiskey glass while he sips it, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Neither of you have to say anything to know what happens after his finishes his drink.

When you left, he reached for your hand when the door to Porter's closed behind you. You didn't need the support, the parking lot wasn't icy or snow covered, you weren't drunk -- but you let his fingers lace with yours. He guides you deliberately to his car -- of course it's new -- a dark green Porsche 911. What a tool.

"You like my new toy?" he asked. It was easily the most expensive car you'd seen in Indiana.

"Steven," you're a little exasperated -- sometimes he was such a poor little rich boy, "Why?"

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

You let go of his hand to walk to the passengers side door, waiting for him to unlock it while you shiver. He notices you didn't have a coat on, shaming himself silently for not offering his trench for the short walk.

You both get in when he unlocks to doors and you eye the interior, the plush leather of the seats. You squint a little when you cast your eyes over to him, "I feel like you're compensating for something."

"Oh yeah?" he asks casually, starting the car and cranking the heat, "What am I compensating for? Wanna remind me?"

You cross your arms and don't answer because he doesn't have anything to compensate for. Steve Harrington was born blessed, if you were more religious you'd swear he was God's favorite.

"That's what I thought," he says with a grin while pulling out of the parking lot. His hand meets your head rest while he stretches his neck back to check for cars. The same hand falls to your thigh when you make it on the road, sliding his palm over the swell of it -- his fingers resting inside. He let his eyes glance at how your hips filled up the small passengers seat at a red light, your jeans tight over your thighs.

Steve gave you a soft squeeze when the light turned green, you put your hand over his hand at the gesture -- relacing your fingers. You don't notice the gentle smile blooming onto his face, too busy looking at Christmas lights on the houses outside.

You don't waste time when you both get into his house, slipping off your shoes at the entry way -- bolstering passed the darkened livingroom to the stairs in his mini-mansion. He follows quickly behind you, getting ahead of you to get into his room to turn on the bedside lamps.

"Are those new?" you whisper -- it's not like anyone is home, it's Steve's house, but the darkness makes you feel like you have to be quiet. He comes back over to you, quick on his socked feet and pulls you in for a feverish kiss.

"Yeah," he says between kisses, all harsh breaths and wet clicks, "I had a new -- mmm -- uh fuck -- new decorator come in."

His hands are wound in your hair while he keeps control of your head, his kisses go from fast and hungry to slow and controlled.

"I'll show you later," he mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement, you did genuinely want to see. What fancy hotel was it based off of this time?

"This is okay, right?" he asks, pulling away, "I'm sorry I didn't ask I just -- old habits, I guess."

"It's okay, Stevie," you assure, his hands slipping out of your hair and onto your full cheeks. He squishes them together a little and smiles into a little chuckle. Sometimes you're so cute to him he can't stand it, he wants to eat you whole -- wants to keep you in his bed forever.

"Good," he mumbles again before settling back in for a deep kiss that leaves you moaning softly into his mouth, "Missed feeling you like this."

"You're so needy," you tease, his hands dropping from your face to your hips, feeling his own press against yours.

"Oh, you feel that?" he smirks, dick hard in his slacks -- straining despterately to get your attention.

"Needier than I thought," you scoff, "You gonna make it, Steve? You don't even have your jacket off yet."

"Watch your mouth," it's not mean when he says it, he likes when you tease him because you have nothing to back it up. You've never left unsatisfied -- even when you were on top calling him your 'sweet boy', you'd get in the shower after with your legs shaking. Shivering against him when he'd get on his knees and lick at your sensitive clit just to watch you leave hand print on the glass.

"You just sound so pretty, miss. I can't help myself," he'd say from below you, water droplets resting on his eyelashes while you gushed over his mouth.

Steve breaks away to take off his jacket and looks at it for a split second -- hesitating.

"You wanna hang it up, huh?" you know how he gets.

"Will you be mad? I just don't want it to crease," he pleads.

"You're gonna get the suit dry cleaned anyway," you say back, laughing.

"I know, I know, but I have to -- I just have to hang it up, I'm so sorry," he presses a chaste peck to your lips before disappearing into his walk in closet. You take your time getting undressed because you know he'll be at least seven to nine minutes while he puts everything back in the 'to be dry cleaned' part of the closet.

You keep your bra and panties on, white satin, a little lace. He's always a sucker for something angelic that's a little grown up -- but you guess you are grown ups now. It's weird to consider.

He emerges from the closet in his boxer breifs with a frown, "Why'd you take your clothes off without me?"

"You took your clothes off without me," you counter point, "Did you want me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"Kinda," he says with a half shrug, "Would've been nice."

You get a little giddy while he approaches you, his smile building when yours does. His hands skate over the flesh on top of your flared ribs, over to your back. His fingers gliding over the back strap of your bra before snapping it off of you, dropping it to the floor. He traces the indents on your skin from the clothing, red and raw. Big hands grope at your breasts before following the slope of your waist back down to your ass, filling his hands greedily.

"Missed her the most," another chaste kiss to your lips, "But I think you knew that." Steve had always thought he was a tits guy until he met you, maybe you were the exception. Maybe he liked all your parts.

"I knew that," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Can you stop stalling, Harrington? This wine's gonna wear off soon."

With your hold on his neck, laying you back on the mattress was an easy feat. He spread you out wide, pushing your hands above your head while he settled his hips against yours. He couldn't help himself from starting to rut against you -- you were so warm, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you.

"Ooh," you moaned out against your better wishes, his covered cock giving you just enough friction in your panties to set you ablaze. You could feel yourself dripping into them, begging, waiting for him.

"You really want me tonight, huh?" he asked hungrily, knowing the answer.

"Y-yes, Stevie," you whined, letting go of his hands to let your nails graze down his back, feeling the length of him trapped in his boxers press against you.

"Oh-ho-ho, whose needy now, hm?" he teases in your ear, grinding mercilessly against you, his chest pressed up against yours while he keeps you pinned the the mattress.

"So quick with that tongue earlier, what happened?" he smirks, getting right in your face, brushing his nose against yours. You roll your hips against his, your thighs sliding against his hips as another mewl escapes you at the friction.

"Oh, I see. You wanna be good for daddy now, don't you?"

"Steven," your eyes pop open, your mouth gapes with a smile, "You can't just say stuff like that."

He laughs into a kiss on your neck, "C'mon, I think you liked it."

"I don't really think you're the 'daddy', type," you say, your voice taunting.

"No?" he asks his voice is calm, but his eyes are challenging you.

"No, you're too nice," you smirk while he comes up to kiss your mouth, "You've never won a fight in your life. And you're what, almost 30? Who're you bossin' around?"

He watches you raise a brow when you say it, your lower lip tucking slowly between your teeth in a grin -- god he loves when you do that.

"Lot of secretaries to go through in the office, mmm," he hums when your lips graze his neck, your tongue striping up to his jaw, "Learned a couple things."

"You think I can't boss you around?" he asks, pressing up off of you and leaning onto one of his forearms.

"I know you can't boss me around," you say, your brows quirking while you push at his chest to get on top of him like you always do. Already soaking at the thought of him whining for you to fuck him, to cum all over him, grabbing at your thighs, hips, and ass desperately. His heaving breaths after finishing, resting his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair, feeling his lips press against your soft, pudgy, belly to let you know he's ready for the next round.

He caught your wrist as you pushed and pressed it back down into the mattress.

"Oh c'mon Stevie, I love hearing you beg for me," you tease before he presses his mouth against yours, noses squishing together. Over the years, Steve craved closeness from you -- pulling you flush against his chest when you were on top, wrapping his arms around your back. Clutching you, fingertips sinking into your cloud-soft flesh while you moaned into his ear.

"Think you can beg for me for a change," he mutters, pulling away as you reach to kiss him again. A little whine pulls from your throat and he purrs at the sound. Right where he wants you.

He gets on his knees between your legs and looks down at you, eyes roaming the expanse of your body -- your broad shoulders, soft skin, delicate curves and indents. His personal Aphrodite -- flesh turned fine art. All the Rennaissance paintings in the world couldn't do you justice. He stuttered the first time he saw you naked, overwhelmed by you and how not shy you were for him to see you. Steve let's a finger trail along the lining of your silk panties at your thigh, you shiver at his soft touch.

"Take these off," he says, but it comes out as a demand.

"So mean," you tease, tugging at the elastic and lifting your hips up to push them over your butt and thighs. He shrugs off your jest, grabbing your underwear when they get too far down for you to reach and throwing them on the floor. He's rough when he flips you over to your stomach, the flesh of your ass bouncing with the movement and he salivates immediately.

"I'll show you mean," he says, it's more playful than menacing. He brings a hand down hard on your soft body, ass reverberating with the action and you gasp -- tensing all around.

"Ow -- Steve!" you cry out, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, shit,” he smooths over the pink handprint blooming on your skin, “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay, it's fine, just -- I don't know, warn a girl," you laugh. His hand drags over the curve of your ass to your thigh.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice dropped to his lower register and you inadvertently press your thighs together. Your face drops into your arms on the mattress, blushing.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, fingers snaking to your inner thigh and your hips roll slowly at the feeling. He hums when he sees you nod into your forearms.

"On your knees, baby," he suggests, tapping your thigh. You adjust onto your knees, forearms still on the mattress in a perfect deep arch. He sits back at first, taking a moment to marvel at your ass in the air -- committing it to memory. He keeps his hand on your inner thigh, massaging gently while you settle into position.

"Open up a little more for me," he's gentle, pushing at your flesh so you open up wider. You adjust and he grins, sliding his boxers off -- you whimper when he does.

"You okay?" his voice laces with acute concern, it wasn't a sexy whine or cry like you usually do. He stands up so he can soothe you from the side of the bed, his hand smoothing over your back.

"I thought you were gonna -- I didn't know we were immediately gonna fuck," you say, leaning your face to the side to look at him.

"Oh no - I wasn't just gonna - when have I ever just gone in and fucked you?" he laughs, "I just wanna jerk off while you sit on my face, is that okay?"

"So much for me begging for you," you smirk, "Sitting on your face, just like old times."

He huffs a breath through his nose looking down at you, his face unimpressed. He leans forward, face inches away from yours, "Who was just whining over the idea that I might not eat her pussy tonight?"

You burn at his words and he notices, "Was it you?"

You nod with an embarrassed smile, "If you're a good girl, I'll let you be the boss next time. I'll teach you a few things, yeah?"

"Steeeeve," you whine while your skin is in flames, "You can't say that."

He gets on the bed behind you, one hand on the bend of your hip, the other with his fingers sliding against your open folds -- finding slicknes without surprise.

"Can't say what?" he asks with a smile, "Can't call you my good girl?"

Your hips push back on his fingers when he says it and you scold yourself at your body's betrayal. You hear him tutt behind you and you clench around nothing at the sound, "Sure feels like I can."

He slides under you like a well versed mechanic, arms and hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, stifiling their nervous jiggle. He guides you down to his mouth, your posture changing while you sit further up and back so you can see his eyes and he can see all of you. Your hips wiggle as you feel his breath on your opening.

"Are you excited?" he asks, you nod and he can't hold out anymore at the sight of your smile. You feel his tongue drag, poking between your folds once you relaxed -- his fingers reaching to keep you spread open to start.

Your smile transforms to a pornographic gasp, head immediately thrown back as his tongue stripes you again. Your hips rock against his mouth, Steve smirks to himself into the next lick, flicking over your clit and a peal of mewls escape your lips.

He feels at home here, your full, thick thighs keeping his ears warm in the December weather. This big cold house suddenly feeling full with your voice moaning his name. He didn't need the whiskey if you were offering to quench his thirst like this.

You feel his tongue lap at your opening, the thick, wet, muscle pushing in past your walls trying to desperate to out maneuver him. His face was coated in your juices, dripping freely own onto his chin and cheeks while he fucked you with his tongue. He watched as your hand reached down to tease your clit, he caught it in his, pushing it up to your breasts.

"Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch," he says, scooting up a bit.

"But Steve I --" you huff, desperate for some extra stimulation.

"I'm getting there, if you'd just be patient for like, twenty seconds," his voice sounds like he's back at the bar, admonishing you like you're rushing him to get out of the bathroom.

"You're ruining the mood," you cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

"Aww, I'm ruining the mood?" he mocks, a fake frown matching yours. He slides a finger slowly past your tight walls and you falter a little but hold to your convictions. He holds eye contact with you through his glasses, pushing a second finger in to meet the first.

Your mouth gapes, eyes pricking with tears as your walls close down hard on him, "Am I still ruining the mood, baby?"

A silent cry rattles your chest, falling quietly out of your open mouth. Your eyes close tight while he snickers, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "It's all better now, isn't it?"

His voice makes you dizzy, he used to talk to you like this when you first started fucking. Cocky and confident -- certain he was making you feel good, and fuck he was. What did he ask you to do before? Your brain was racking for the command, but too overwhelmed with pleasure when he hooked his fingers to find your g-spot.

"Stevie -- oh fuck, fuck, please more," you whine out, you sound pathetic but you can't even find your self to care. It feels like a roller coaster reaching it's peak with every curve of his fingers teasing your spongey center. 'Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch.' There it is, that you could do. You palm your breasts, pulling and pinching at your hard nipples looking down at him over your belly pooch. He winks when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit and you shudder instantly. You gush over his fingers, taken by surprised by your own orgasm -- already feeling the second one building.

"That's my good girl," he purrs beneath you, "Stay just like that, okay? I'm not done."

You gulp, feeling his soft kitten licks back on your clit start to ramp up to fast flutters -- Steve didn't want to start you back up slowly. Your breath had barely steadied before it picked back up again, flexing your core to keep yourself hovering above him. Your hand reached down to his hair, tugging while your thighs tensed.

"Ride my face, baby, come on," he encourged, "You've never been nervous to do it before."

"I --," you hesitated, "I didn't with Andy -- it's been a while."

"What?" he asked, surprised, pushing up so his full head peeked out from between your legs, "Are you fucking with me?"

"He...ugh, Steve," you leaned your head back and then turned it back down, mumbling, "He said I was too heavy."

Steve's eyes furrow, mouth open, unsure at first how to respond -- aghast, "This guy sounds like a fucking loser. You're not too heavy -- god -- who says 'no' to that? What's wrong this this guy?"

Steve shakes his head and pushes back down, "Sit on my face, baby. Fuckin' suffocate me."

You don't have a choice, he pulls you down onto him, your knees sliding further apart and you can't help but start grinding your hips against his tongue. The whole act sounds as lewd as it looks, wet and sticky as he captures your slit in his mouth to suck on it. Spreading your ass in his hands to spread you further apart, moaning low into your pussy so you can feel the vibration through your core.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ooh daddy just like that," the words just pour out of you while you start reaching your second peak, hips writhing onto him with your back arched. Steve grips your ass cheek hard before smacking down on it with a loud 'thwap!', satisfaction burning in his stomach -- daddy, daddy, daddy. The same hand reaches for his neglected cock, covered in pre, leaving a patch of cold liquid on his hard, muscled stomach.

Steve feels your hips hump his mouth in quick succession, his nose bumping your clit rapidly. Your moans get shorter and higher with each flick of his tongue against you until they're just huffed breaths.

"Mmm, come on," he nods up at you, "You can do it, angel."

You nod back, face contorted while tears stain your cheeks, the next roll of your hips his mouth makes contact with your clit again. You see stars, you cum so hard you swear you're pissing. You can hear Steve's grunts under you, collecting your slick to add friction to the fist he's fucking behind you.

"Get on your back," he demands, "Need t'fuck you, holy shit."

You get on your back, looking up at him now on his knees, both of your eyes lust blown in the low light. You weren't a stranger to his cock, but every time you saw it you couldn't help but feel spit build in your mouth. It was angry tonight, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing while he stroked himself looking down at you.

"I don't know, Stevie -- it might be -- it's too much," you say, thighs pressing together to protect your sensitive cunt.

"Two is nothing, honey," he shakes his head opening your legs up, crawling over you to line his tip up with your entrance, "You've given me four in less time."

You whine like a child, but you don't stop him when he slides the tip against your entrance, building up the slickness to slide over his cock. When his tip pops in you hiss, back arching to feel another inch push into you.

"Oh, that shut you up, huh?" that voice was back again, Steve was starting to feel so confident, you might as well start calling him Manhattan. He pushes deep into you, all the way to the hilt -- your legs springing up against your chest automatically -- heels hitting his back.

"You feel so good, Stevie," you moan into his mouth while he leans in to kiss you.

"Pussy's fucking made for me," he rasps while his thrusts pick up, forceful and deliberate. Steve loves fucking you because he knows how well you can take it. You were built sturdy, plush, soft -- he loved how it felt to slam into you. He'd heard it on the radio, some cheesy line 'more cushion for the pushin', but fuck if it wasn't true.

Steve knew he wouldn't last long inside you, your pussy tight and wet -- hugging him in place, resisting his exit. He filled you completely, your eyes rolling back the second you felt the hair at the base of his cock tickle your skin over and over again.

"Steve, oh god Steve," you moan through gritted teeth, tears back to rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, "Just like that daddy, fuck me like that."

His mouth falls open at your words, the girls on his desk never talk like that. He can't fuck them how he wants to, never throws them around. They don't look at him the way you look at him, soft and pretty. They don't wanna wash his hair for him in the shower after, and kiss the freckles on his back. He doesn't wanna make them dinner after, or give them a ride home. He doesn't blush the way he does when it's you that calls him daddy. When you call out his name. When you look up at him with those eyes. When you hold his hand in the car. When you tease him for coming to Porter's early. When you call every time you come home just to see him when you could see anyone else.

Steve's hand finds your jaw but you guide it to your throat while you bounce against his thrusts, he chuckles wickedly, "When'd you turn into such a whore?"

His fingers press down expertly on your neck while you attempt to moan out an answer that he doesn't wanna hear. He just wants to keep watching your fucked out face and body while he drills into you deeper. His voice lilts into a mocking coo, your cunt drools.

"Just for me, isn't it?" he asks down at you through his glasses, and you nod quickly in his hold, "They're not fuckin' you like this in the city, huh?"

"Had to come all the way back to Indiana to get this dick, didn't you? All the way back home so daddy could fuck you just how you like it," he huffs, feeling himself get close.

"Yes, yes -- had t-to come back for you - oh fuck, fuck," you whine out, raspy and nasal from lack of blood flow.

"Who fucks you like I do, hm? Who else is makin' you come like I can?" he eases up on your throat, moving back to your jaw -- leaning in to give you a sloppy tongue kiss into your gasping mouth. You tighten again over him, gushing whatever creamy spend you had left in you, gripping his shoulder tightly while your eyes pinched closed.

When you're nose to nose again you look up at him, "Nobody, Stevie. Just you, it's just you."

He growls at the confirmation, his hips stuttering -- 'Nobody fucks her like I do,' ringing in his head while he feels his vision start to go white.

"Baby, baby," he starts, his voice softening, "God, fuck -- can I come in your mouth?"

You nod and he groans, panting while your wet walls keep his cock warm and tight inside you. Steve slows his thrusts which just makes the feeling more intoxicating, your sticky thighs meshing with his soaked hilt. You whimper and cry with every push into your overstimulated cunt, your legs almost giving out from being pressed against your chest.

"Jesus Christ. Gonna come in your mouth," he whispers into your neck, "Feels -- oh shit -- fuck, it feels so good in your pussy, though."

Steve knows he can't hold back, quickly pulling out of you while you shoot up onto your elbows. He pulls your head forward with one fell swoop of his big hand, your mouth and thrat sucking in his cock in a vice grip. You can feel the warm liquid start shooting into your mouth immediately, but it doesn't stop you from obediently sucking on it. He's peak caveman brain while he watches you, your eyes shining up at him while he holds his weight up on your head -- grunts and snarls coming out of his mouth while he finishes thrusting into your face.

You take your mouth off as he softens and swallow, gingerly sitting up slowly. Your thighs ache, you're exhausted. He sits down onto his calves, both of you panting on the center of the bed.

"Let me -- let me get you some water," he huffs out, sliding off the mattress into the attatched master bathroom. He's only gone for ten seconds, passing a clear glass into your shaking hand. You sip slowly to start before gulping it down.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You're quiet."

You nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out, "That was...insane."

He laughs, it makes you laugh, and he lays down onto the mattress to stare up at you. You look down at him, offering Steve a weak smile before looking back at your empty water cup. You slide off the bed like he did before, putting the glass back on the bathroom counter, peeing, washing your hands, and walking back out.

You let out a tired sigh, reaching for your clothes strewn about by his dresser -- sliding on your panties.

"What're you doin', Manhattan?" he asks, sitting up, "Got somewhere to be?"

"I'm getting dressed, Steve," you explain, putting your bra back on. Steve's chest hollowed, normally you'd have some pillow talk after -- talk it out. He still had to show you the new house decor.

"Hey, stop," his voice is soft as he waves his hand at you, "You don't have to do that."

"I gotta get home, Steve," you assure, "It's getting late."

"You..." he trails off before taking a deep breath, replenishing his confidence, "You could stay. I can drive you back in the morning."

"Steve..." you start, shimmying a little to get your jeans over your hips and thighs, "I never stay. That's not us, that's not what we do."

"It could be..." he suggests, his voice cracking a little, "Please?"

You stand there, in your bra and unbuttoned jeans, your tummy poking out where the zipper is undone. Your bra suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable, your underwear constricting you under the jeans that feel a size too small.

He looks you over, watching you contemplate it and gets up out of bed to meet you by his dresser. His hands reach to each side of your face, warm and big. His fingertips graze the hair at the edge of your scalp, pinkies and ring fingers on the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly to look at him and your heart hammers, more than it did the first time he started kissing you in his car. Steve's heart matches your cadence, remembering how nervous he was the first time he talked to you -- desperately wanting you to be impressed by him.

"I --" you start blushing, he's never looked at you quite like this, "I don't have anything to wear to bed."

"I don't want you to wear anything to bed," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in his while you both step awkwardly as a unit back over to the bed, "It'd just get in the way in the morning."

"Please stay," he pleads again, pressing a gentle peck on your lips, "Please -peck-, please -peck-, please -peck-. "

"Okay, okay," you laugh, "Are you sure?"

"I'm begging you," he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. The tops of his frames hitting your brow bone. He lets go of your face to make work of the top of your jeans, shoving them back down until they pool at your ankles. He unhooks your bra, a little too expertly, and snaps the band of your satin panties before rolling those down too. He moves down with them so he can skate his hands over your thighs and leave a warm kiss on the flesh over your hip bone -- apologizing to the bruise he left there earlier.

"Can't believe you kept your glasses on," you tease, "Dweeb."

He comes back up, sliding his glasses off smoothly, like he did in the back seat of his BMW five years ago, "I like being able to really see you."

"Am I blurry without them?" you asked, trying to take them out of his hand. He snatches them out of your grasp, hiding them behind his back.

"Not really," he says, walking over to the bedside table and placing them next to the lamp, "You told me they made me look handsome back in - think it was -- '94 maybe? -- So I just wanted to keep them on for insurance."

You look down at the floor, "I always think you look handsome, Harrington."

You feel his hand at the back base of your neck and turn to see him behind you, "Come back to bed."

He gets under the sheets and both duvets and turns down the covers next to him, slapping the pillow you're going to sleep on to beckon you forward. You want to roll your eyes but you can't force down the giddiness building in your chest -- sleep over!

You maneuver over to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers while he turns them back over you to tuck you in. Fuck are the sheets nice, they had to be some luxury brand you can only order through a catalog.

Steve clicks off his bedside lamp, leaning over you to click off yours and you catch the remnants of his cologne on his skin. It's not long before you feel his hand skate over you under the covers, sliding over your belly, up over every curve and bump on your body before resting a warm hand on the side of your breast. He hums sleepily and pulls you close to him, pressing his chest against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck where he's settled his head.

"Isn't this nice?" he asks. You nod, turning onto your side to face him while his hand splays across your back to pull you closer. You slide a hand under the pillow, and savor the coolness on your hot skin. Steve looks at you with soft eyes, studying you.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "Or, well, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," you say, looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Remember -- ah fuck, okay I'm doing this," he says, trying to psyche himself up, "Remember when I said I had some options? To make changes?"

"Yeah, I remember. You can't wait when those opportunities come, Harrington," you lecture, "I've fucked myself so many times with that."

"There's a position in the New York office," he blurts out, "In the head quarters that they're eyeing me for."

Your heart races, "Okay."

"And I'd be...I don't know, sort of demoted but I'd get a huge -- like, huge fucking pay raise," he explains, "And I -- I wanna take it."

A beat passes while he tries to figure out what to say.

"And maybe, I don't know -- maybe we could try this out? Like for real? Instead of just fucking around every Christmas."

You consider it, heat blooming in your cheeks -- the good kind. Your heart starts to swell -- not Steve Harrington asking you out when you're twenty-nine. Sixteen year old you would be screaming.

"What do you think?" he asks, he swipes his hand through his hair and even in the dark you know his cheeks are pink.

"I don't think it's a bad idea," you say, "I think it's the excitement you're looking for -- New York I mean, not me."

"I think you're really exciting," he leans in to kiss you with a grin.

"And I think," he presses his lips against yours again, "I'd do a pretty good job at taking care of you, if you let me."

You laugh through your nose, blushing hard while he kisses your cheek, "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"It does sound nice, Steve," you agree, but you don't want him to feel too good about it. You had a reputation to uphold, still. He leans back to look at you, thumb caressing your cheek as your lids fall half down your eyes, "I think I'd really like that."

"You wanna shower? You too tired?" his voice his so gentle you start to melt, but exhaustion weighs heavy on you.

"Too tired," you say, nuzzling forward into his neck -- your head now partially on his pillow.

"We can talk about it more in the morning, yeah?" he asks, a hand reaching up to smooth over your hair.

"Yeah," you said, your breath steadying, "I'll see you in the morning."

He knows you don't like eggs for breakfast but it's all he has in the fridge. It's fine. He'll just order in.

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