#water drop collision | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oddinary4bts · 5 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 6 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: date anxiety, Sam Hwang, OC had a pothead phase in high school, cursing, probably the worst date of OC's life, alcohol, peach, jungkook is a drunk mess, mentions of throwing up, explicit content: mentions of jungkook and oc having sex

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: in this one, jungkook and OC proceed to be frustrating again :') hope you enjoy haha <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 1st

You count the water drops on the vitrine of the restaurant.

One, two, three, though the third joins the second to merge into a single, bigger one.

It’s all you can do to quell your nerves as you’re surrounded by the low chatter of the other patrons in the restaurant. You’re sitting next to the window, looking at the world outside. It’s unusually warm today, and the snow turned into rain earlier, though you know it will ice as soon as the temperature drops again. It feels like déjà-vu, like you’re stepping back to Valentine’s Day, though the company will be different tonight.

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook, and he’s been avoiding you. In truth, you don’t even think you’ve seen him once since last Sunday. He’d come home while you were eating dinner in the kitchen, and he’d walked in, patted your head, and grabbed a glass of water. When he’d stayed, leaning against the counter and looking at you, you’d asked him what he wanted.

He’d only frowned and said you were weird, and that had been that.

To be fair, you know what he wanted. Or at least what he deserved. Apologies, that is, for the way you spoke to him at the bar. But you haven’t been able to give him any. Maybe because it pushed him away, rebuilt the true distance between the two of you as if nothing ever happened. It’s safer that way, especially considering how involved you’d already gotten after just a few days.

Then again, you get why feelings would grow so easily with him. It’s the risk that comes with him, the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t do. As a kid, that same thrill had always made you fall more on the bad side, though you’d always been good in school. But did you have a pothead phase in your last two years of high school? Yes, you did.

Looking at yourself today, you think you made it out of it pretty well after all.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. He’s late. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s late – Sam Hwang has shown time and time again that he cannot be trusted. And frankly, you don’t know why you’re here.

Why after last week’s shit show and what happened last summer, you still agreed to meet up at a restaurant that’s definitely over your budget.

Another sigh escapes your chest, and you tap your feet under the chair, anxiety spiking through you. You feel foolish and dumb and everything in between, and you’re starting to want to head home when he finally appears outside, heading for the door.

Your heart stops in your chest. As a matter of fact, you think it’s dropped to your ass before Sam makes it to your table, apologizing profusely. He’s dripping water, and you realize he’s walked all the way here.

You do find it in yourself to feel bad for him, just a little bit. Because you’re careful around him, afraid he’ll just hurt you again.

“Sup,” Sam says as he finally sits in front of you, pushing his long hair back. “Shit, it’s cold.”

You grab your scarf, handing it to him. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, holding your gaze as if to make sure this is not a trick, and then he finally takes the scarf. He sighs in contentment as he wraps it around himself, before saying, “Your perfume smells really good.”

You know. You know because Hoseok once told you the same, and so did Jungkook.

“Thanks,” you say, looking down at your glass of water.

There’s an awkward silence, as if Sam is expecting you to say anything else, but you can’t find for the life of yourself anything to say. So you busy yourself with looking through the menu, reining in your wince as you notice just how much out of your budget this restaurant is.

“Long week?” Sam asks as he starts leafing through his own menu, though he keeps a careful eye on you the whole time.

You nod. “Had some lab reports for two classes due tonight,” you tell him. “Managed to get them done but they drained me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad,” he says, laughing lightly. “You’ve always been a smart ass.”

You purse your lips, cheeks dusting with pink. “Thanks.” You clear your throat, meeting his gaze just long enough to ask, “What about you? How was your week?”

Then your eyes fall back to the comfort of the menu, and you try to figure out if ordering an appetizer for dinner would look bad.

“It was great,” he says. “I didn’t have much to do for classes, so I just chilled. Spent some time with Jake and Soobin.”

You remember them. Jake is the redhead you saw at the bar last week, and Soobin is the third male who completed the friend group last summer. There were three other girls, though you haven’t heard of them since you moved to the city.

“Nice,” you let out, offering him a small smile.

The awkwardness expands tenfold after that, and you choose to order the cheapest meal on the menu. It’s pasta, and you figure you can never go wrong with pasta. After you’ve chosen, you still pretend you’re looking though, trying to escape having to face the heavy silence.

A waitress saves you from it by stopping by the table, asking if you want anything to drink. Sam, with his easy smile and nonchalant attitude, immediately attracts her gaze.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he says. “And the lady will just have water.”

You freeze. You freeze with your eyes shooting at his pretty features. He looks back at you once the waitress nods, scribbling the order on her pad even though you’d assume it’s something easy to remember.

“What do you mean I’ll only have water?” you say.

Sam laughs. He laughs, as if his choosing for you isn’t paternalistic and so out of date. “I’m sure you wouldn’t drink a beer,” he answers, and it’s almost condescending.

You make an effort of looking around the restaurant, pointedly stopping at a table near you, where the couple is sharing a bottle of wine. “I’m sure we could order wine?” you let out questioningly.

“I don’t like wine,” Sam replies, matter-of-factly.

You widen your gaze, tilting your head to the side. “And that means I can’t order any?”

“Damn, why are you so pressed about this?”

Because this is not Sam. Or if it is, you do not recognize him. He’d charmed you last summer, whisked you off your feet and made you believe in love at first sight. It seems you were blinded, and it’s really hard to find any charm in the man sitting in front of you.

“Never mind,” you say, choosing peace over war.

But in that instant you already make the decision that you will never see him again. You’ll stay for dinner, though, if only because you don’t want to have spent twenty dollars on an Uber for nothing.

When the server comes back with the beer and to take your order, you realize maybe you should have left. Indeed, Sam orders for you again – a salad this time around – while he orders a steak for himself. You have to do everything in yourself not to cringe as he does so, and you keep an empty, plastic smile on your lips as he starts speaking to you about what he’s been up to since last summer.

And he speaks and speaks. That’s something you recognize in him – the way he can speak so much without you having to say anything. It’s like he’s doing a monologue – back then, you’d loved listening to his voice, if only because you liked the musicality of it. Right now, it’s grating on your nerves, and you keep diverting your eyes to the window, hoping there’s some salvation for you on the other side.

Obviously there isn’t any, and if Sam realizes your disinterest, he doesn’t let it show.

You think he’s on his month of December when the food finally arrives, and you’d thank God if you were religious for the respite in Sam’s spiel. Indeed, the silence is most welcomed, and you eat your salad, trying not to think about the pasta you wanted to order.

At least it’s a decent salad, but you’ll know you’ll have to eat something else when you get home.

“And the funniest part,” Sam is saying when you tune back into the conversation, “is that the girl wasn’t even pretty!”

You widen your gaze. “Oh!” is all you’re able to say.

You think you see the couple at the table next to yours sliding their gazes to you, and the girl leans in closer to her partner, saying something. You can only assume that she’s laughing at your expense, and you get it.

You would too, if you were seated next to someone having the worst date of their life.

And it’s strange. So fucking strange, because once you would have given everything to be right here, with Sam Hwang. Now you feel like he’s a stranger, like he didn’t kiss you at the end of the night on that first party as if he’d been waiting for you his whole life.

“But her friend was,” Sam adds, and his fork makes a grating sound as he moves it on his plate. “Sorry,” he mindlessly apologizes.

“No worries,” you let out, with no ounce of emotion in your tone.

Indeed, your social battery ran out while he was on October, and you think now he’s almost caught up to the present. Not that you care – you know you’ll never want to hear about Sam Hwang again as soon as you’re out of this restaurant.

“And you?” he asks, surprising you.

Surprising everyone in the restaurant, you reckon.

“Me?” you say.

“What’s new?”

You let out a small laugh. You can’t help it – it bubbles out of your mouth by itself, and you think it almost sounds a little crazed.

“Nothing much,” you answer. “My classes have been chill, can’t wait to be in med school, and I am starting to have a headache.”

Sam frowns, lips slightly curling in disdain. “Am I boring you?”

You blink once, twice, plastering a fake smile on your lips. “Of course not! I’m happy to know everything that’s happened in your life since you left me alone on the docks last summer.”

You say that at the exact same time the waitress stops next to the table. She gasps, or at least you think she does, and then she clears her throat.

“Would you guys like some dessert?” she asks as she eyes the empty plates in front of you.

“No thank you,” you quickly say before Sam could once more decide for you. “We’ll take the bill.”

He’s shocked. You see it the moment your eyes meet his again. You hope he sees all the ire in your gaze, all the hatred for what he did months ago and for this revelation that he isn’t shit anyway.

“I wanted dessert,” he says once the server is out of sight.

“Well, you can go home and get yourself some,” you drawl. “I’m tired of this.”

“Excuse me?” Sam lets out. “I’m stooping so low for you, and you’re just tired?”

“Seriously?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking last summer but you are an asshole, Sam Hwang.”

“And you’re so much better?” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’ve been looking outside this whole time as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re the one that was begging me to hang out.”

You snort. “Oh, did I now?” you say. “I think I remember you asking for a date.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’m done here.”

You watch him get up, not surprised in the slightest as he throws your scarf at you, and then you watch him leave. He knocks his chair down when he grabs his coat from the back of it, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turns towards you at the commotion. You just remain seated, trying to not explode, lips stretched into a thin line.

When Sam is out of the restaurant, the girl at the table next to yours leans closer to you. “I was about to tell him to fuck off for you, girl,” she says, and it makes you laugh.

“Man, to think I once had feelings for that douche?” you reply.

She chuckles. “He’s just red flags, run while you still can.”

You look at his chair on the floor, wincing. “Highly doubt he’ll ever approach me again.”

“And I say good riddance.”

You laugh along with her and her partner, and then you get up to right the chair, if only to busy yourself. Because your hands are trembling – you’re not good with public scenes like the one that just unfolded, no matter how friendly the people around you are. So you’re relieved when the waitress comes back, though the price on the bill seems to be laughing at you.

You still pay, cringing at the hole it’ll make in your budget, and then you wish a good evening to the girl and her partner, before heading towards the door, putting your coat on on the way. You stay in the lobby as you order your Uber, and you go through the Instagram stories as you wait.

Jungkook’s story is fourth, and you wince as you notice he posted it less than a minute ago. It’s nothing much though, just a picture of a table filled with beers, and you’re about to skip when something catches your eyes.

It is indeed a table filled with beers. A very familiar table, and you think you’ll murder Jungkook.

You slide in his dms as you slowly feel anger rising in you.

[08:57 pm] You: when were u going to tell me ure hosting smthg at the apt tonight?

Jungkook doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, you don’t even know if he’ll see, and all you can think is that you need to go home and go fast, just to make sure no one breaks anything.

It’s not that you’re against having get-togethers at your apartment. As a matter of fact, you’re hosting something with your friends tomorrow, though you’d planned to tell Jungkook tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is payback for not telling him before. For not apologizing, for pretending that he’s just a stranger even though two weeks ago you were moaning under him.

You push the thoughts away, but they’re like a door you were supposed to pull – they remain unmoving, taking up the whole scene of your mind. They haunt and taunt you all the way home, and you reckon it’s better than to think about Sam Hwang, about the shit-show of the date you just had.

So you cling to the anger rising in you, to the regrets and to the disappointment. Maybe because Jungkook is part of your present, and not your past. Maybe because no matter how much you avoid each other, your paths will always cross.

The Uber drops you right outside the door of your building, and you thank the driver before stepping out into the cold. The rain has relented now, but it’s already started to turn to ice, so you carefully maneuver to the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, doing your best not to fall. You’re successful – not like a similar, freezing rain day, and you climb the stairs to the door properly.

You’re not surprised to find the door unlocked.

But you’re definitely surprised when you open the door to the sight of five grown men sitting in your living room, with two pretty girls hanging with them. Though music is playing loud enough to burst your eardrums, everyone’s gaze turns to you, and you stand in the open door with a slightly frightened look on your features.

“Peach!” Jungkook bellows.

If he realizes he’s called you by that pet name in front of everyone he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he jumps to his feet, heading to where you’re standing.

“It’s freezing,” he comments as he stops next to you, pushing the door close.

You immediately smell the alcohol on him, and you cock an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” you state.

He flicks your nose. “Astute.”

You don’t know how he manages to use vocabulary like that when he’s drunk. What you do know is that everyone is still staring at you, as if they’re watching the scene unfolding in a movie theatre.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth, turning away from everyone to focus on Jungkook who’s leaning against the door now.

“Oh, peach,” he lets out. “Sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Bewildered, you watch as he flashes you one of his iconic grins, the one that makes him look like a bunny, and then he heads back to where he was sprawled on the floor. Right next to one of the girls.

The other girl you know, and she’s currently leaning against her boyfriend. She offers you a bright smile when your gazes meet, waving hi.

“Hey,” you reply as you take off your boots and coat. You put the latter in the closet, before turning towards the living room again.

The group seems to have moved on to something else, and you watch as Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. You don’t think you’re ready for what it does to your lungs – it sucks the breath right out of them, and you quickly leave to head to your room.

You pitstop by the kitchen first, trying to see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. You fall on some leftover noodles that are undoubtedly Jungkook’s. You snatch them from where they are, thinking it’s a good revenge for him hosting people over without telling you. They’re almost done reheating when Sera walks into the kitchen, and she beams once more at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, since Tae left, you guys don’t usually come over.”

And it’s true. Except for Jimin, you haven’t seen the rest of Taehyung’s friend group since he left at the beginning of January.

“It was Jimin’s idea,” she says as she heads to the fridge. She fishes a lemonade from the top shelf, before carefully closing the door again. “We facetimed Tae earlier.”

You nod. “Awesome. How is he?”

“You guys don’t speak?” she asks, and she genuinely sounds concerned.

You shrug your shoulders because you do speak. But ever since what happened with Jungkook, you’ve found it hard to truly speak to Taehyung, to pretend that you didn’t fuck his best friend, so you’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible.

Though it might be slightly suspicious, Taehyung hasn’t caught up to it yet.

“We do,” you say, chuckling. “Just not that often.”

She hums. “Oh well. Do you want to join us?” she asks, motioning over her shoulder. “JK said you make for a good Kim substitute.”

You snort, unsure of what you just heard. “What?”

She smiles secretively. “You know what I mean.”

Your gaze widens, and the microwave beeps, startling you. You pull your noodles out of it, wincing at how warm the bowl is. You drop it on the counter, before turning towards Sera again. “As a matter of fact, I actually have no clue what you mean.”

She bursts out laughing, that clear crystalline laugh you have no doubt ensnared Jimin when they met years ago.

“Jungkook just said that you guys hung out during the power outage and that you were chill.”

You wonder if you’ll have to murder him. You reckon you might, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you hope no one actually understood what he meant by that.

“He’s right,” Sera adds. “Each time you’ve hung out with us I’ve always found you fun.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you try to smile, try to act as if you didn’t turn entirely white at her words.

“So come eat with us!”

And then she’s waltzing out of the kitchen, and you wonder if you should just jump out of the window. Avoiding Jungkook seems like the only viable option, especially when you step out of the kitchen, noodles in hand, to the sight of him with his head in the lap of the other girl. She’s running her hands through his hair while he plays on the Switch, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Jungkook catches sight of you, and he awkwardly sits up.

“Come here!” he tells you, and everyone’s head once again turns to you. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down at the bowl in your hands. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my food,” he complains, and he gets up, handing his controller to the girl.

You’re keenly aware of the way her gaze slightly narrows on you as Jungkook makes his way to you. He makes to grab the bowl from your hands, and you turn away from him.

“Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook groans. “No.”

And then he wraps an arm around your waist, skillfully stealing the bowl from your hands and raising it over your head. He lets out a victorious cry, and his arm tightens around your waist when you try to reach up.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” Jungkook says, looking down at you.

He’s close. Dangerously close, especially under the eyes of his friends. Of that girl he was all cuddled up with just a few seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

He dumbly smiles, before winking at you. “Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

“Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

And you know it is. He smells like it, like he’s had too many beers. You wonder how he can look sober even though he drank so much – if you were him, you’d be making a fool out of yourself by now.

“Please, Jungkook,” you say after a few seconds of tense silence, of your eyes getting lost in the enormity of his gaze.

He frowns, and his arm lowers from where he’s holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

You gulp. “I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

He takes a step away from you, handing you the bowl as his frown deepens. He cocks his head to the side, questioningly, and then folds his arms on his chest.

You do your best not to avert your gaze to the muscles on his arms, instead letting your eyes fall to the bowl of noodles.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he asks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

You shut your eyes, sighing deeply. “Jungkook, it’s none of your business.”

“He’s an asshole,” he lets out, a little louder than necessary. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze again. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He looks anything but happy, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now, can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You make the mistake of looking at the group in the living room, and you hate that they all quickly look away, pretending that they weren’t watching.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Jungkook suggests. “To cheer you up.”

You settle your gaze back on him, and he really looks like he wants to cheer you up. He’s pouting slightly, a small crease between his brows as he looks at you intently. There’s a light in his eyes that you don’t want to interpret, not when you hear the echoes of him telling you that you would just pretend nothing ever happened.

Are you weak for being unable to tell him no? Maybe. But you’ll have plenty of time for regrets later.

“Okay,” you let out. “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Here’s to trying to be nice to you, huh?”

You chuckle, mimicking his expression. “Poor you.”

“You steal my food and then sass me?” he says, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek. It attracts your gaze to his mouth, and your heart once again squeezes, though this time it doesn’t hurt.

No, this time it makes blush spread on your cheeks, and you feel like you’re starting to burn under his gaze.

“You deserve it,” you declare, and then you’re walking around him to head to the living room.

He jogs to catch up to you, and once more grabs the bowl from your hands. It almost falls to the floor, but he effortlessly saves the noodles, and then motions with his elbow to the coffee table.

“Jae, clear the table please,” Jungkook says.

The guy – Jaehyun, you think? – obeys, though he grumbles the whole time. The unknown girl ends up helping him, and a few seconds later you’re seated in front of the coffee table, with Jungkook next to you. He sits so close you feel his thigh against yours, though he leans back into the couch, attention shifting to the TV, where Jimin and Eunwoo are playing a riveting game of Smash.

Everyone seems to forget that you’re there, and so you eat the noodles, trying your best not to think about Jungkook next to you. About the way you could easily cuddle in his side with a slight shift towards him…

Treacherous little thoughts. You don’t let them live in your head for longer than a few seconds, perhaps because the spice from the noodles overtakes everything. You wince, glancing at Jungkook, who catches your gaze, light dancing behind his pupils.

“You okay?” he asks as your cheeks burn.

“I forgot how spicy you like your food.”

He grins as you fan yourself. “You’ll get used to it. We just have to build up your tolerance.”

Then he does something incredibly stupid. You think his friends will notice, but they all erupt in cheers as they watch the TV, and Jimin slams Eunwoo’s character off the platform.

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your upper thigh. You’d say it’s possessive if you could produce any thoughts, but your brain zeroes in on the spot where he touches you, and you look down. He seems to realize it at the same time as you, and he quickly moves his hand away, frowning slightly.

He’s cute like this. Lips jutting out in a pout, a crease between his brows, confusion swirling in his gaze. Like he didn’t mean to touch you like that, the act done out of instinct.

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

His words clang through your mind, and you turn away from him. Eyes falling on the noodles, and you take a shuddering breath in. Your memories provide you with images of you and Jungkook, alone in this living room. Of an attraction that was inevitable, yet now it tastes bitter.

You’d like to be angry with him. For being so casual about everything, for wanting this over whatever secretive relationship you could have shared with him before Taehyung comes back. Maybe you’re stupid for wanting anything – the longer it would last, the more it would hurt. But as you force yourself to eat the food he cooked, you think the spice on your tongue isn’t really what’s hurting.

No, it’s your heart in your chest. It beats achingly, even more so as Jungkook ends up moving away from you, as if realizing through his drunken haze that he shouldn’t sit so close to you. That even if you tried to be friends, just friends, he’s already fucked you like there was no tomorrow. And during the power outage, it truly felt like there wasn’t any. Like you could just stay in that bubble outside of time.

When Jungkook ends up lying back with his head in that girl’s lap – Lisa, you now know – you pretend like you don’t wish it was you, running your fingers through his hair. You pretend like he’s not there, yet you see him in the periphery of your vision. You hear his laugh, know he smiles, and you wonder, is he just pretending?

Or is he attracted to that girl? You wouldn’t blame him. She matches his doe eyes, pretty features always hinting at a smile. She’s attractive, and you quickly understand that she is Sera’s best friend. Or at least it seems so, because she’s comfortable with the boys, and even more so with Jungkook.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they have history. Or if Jungkook is planning to get with her – hell, if you were a guy, you reckon she’d be the type of girl you’d want to get with.

Yet it hurts. It burns, and you find it hard to focus on the television. Even more so to participate in the conversation, and if someone notices, no one says anything. Perhaps because these are not your friends – no matter how friendly they might get, you’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to them.

You’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to Jungkook.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Jaehyun says, shaking you out of your thoughts.

You’re done eating by now, and you just turn to look at him, a startled look on your features. He chuckles at the sight, and you feel your cheeks burning.

“No, all good,” you tell him.

“Careful,” Jungkook says from behind you. “Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

Now, Jungkook’s speech is definitely slurred. He’s drunk – you were aware of it before, but you hadn’t realized just how much. Indeed, when you turn to look at him, you know the bitter expression on his features is one he usually hides behind a mask.

Just like that you know that he indeed does care, in the weird, twisted way that Jeon Jungkook can care. It reassures you somehow, but also breaks your heart.

He was there, during the power outage. Did he, too, use it as a way to escape reality? Is he, too, regretting having to go back to normal?

You like to tell yourself that he does.

“Bruh,” Jaehyun lets out, and Jungkook quickly composes his features, offering a bland smile to his friend.

The others just keep speaking about whatever it is that they’re speaking of now, but you can tell Jungkook is upset. You don’t think it’s jealousy because of Jaehyun – he’s haunted, just like you.

He stays upset for a while. Drinking in silence, sitting up when Lisa says something to him and him only. She looks disappointed, and her eyes dart to you for a millisecond before she looks away. If she wants to blame you for Jungkook not wanting to cuddle with her anymore, then so be it.

Because you like that she’s not running her fingers through his hair anymore. Like that he sits between the two of you, and you imagine he’s just a little closer to you than he is to her. You’d want him to be – it’s a dangerous thought, much like all of your thoughts when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

When Eunwoo suggests doing shots, Jungkook plasters a smile on his lips. You see it for the mask that it is, yet you don’t mention it. You long to reach between you and him, to smooth the lines on his brow away, but you don’t do anything. You accept the shot that’s handed to you, and a few minutes later, you let it burn down your throat.

After that, you decide to grab something to drink, only so that Jungkook won’t have to feel alone. Though you highly doubt he’ll realize the silent support that you offer him.

While you’re still in the kitchen, Lisa walks in, a pretty smile lighting up her equally pretty features. You freeze by the fridge, and she moves closer to you, casually saying, “Hey, how are you?”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay. You… want anything to drink?”

She looks down at the lemonade you’ve gotten for yourself, nodding once. You hand it to her, and it takes her a few seconds before she grabs it, awkwardness lingering in the air. You take another one for yourself, and then you face her again, hoping she’ll be gone.

She hasn’t moved an inch. As a matter of fact, she’s looking at you pensively, nose slightly scrunched.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister?”

The question takes you aback. You widen your gaze, struck like lightning just hit, and your mouth falls open. You think you must look stupid, so you clear your throat, trying to escape the awkwardness.

“I am,” you reply. “You are?”

“Lisa! Sera’s friend,” she supplies, and she offers you a nice smile. “Something happened between you and Jungkook?”

Straight to the point, then. You’d expected her to circle around the pot, never really fully digging in, but she’s straightforward. You can only admire her for it, even though your heart starts hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

She purses her lips, before chuckling. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just remain silent, trying to figure out how to escape the situation. She notices your unease, and she winces.

“Yeah, sorry, I definitely made things awkward,” she says. “It’s just…”

“Peaaaach,” Jungkook yells from the door to the kitchen, and both you and Lisa startle. You meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns towards him. “Just talking.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Well then, why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

You stifle a laugh, right as Lisa glances at you over her shoulder. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, and then she shrugs, before walking away.

Jungkook moves out of the way to let her pass, and then he walks in, heading towards where you’re still standing next to the fridge.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he stumbles a little when he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

You hear it in his speech. “You want water?”

“Water?” He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and steps closer to you, towering over you. You tilt your head back, though you don’t budge from where you’re standing, effectively blocking the fridge’s door.

“Move,” he tells you.

“Drink water first.”

He lands a gentle hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden motion makes you shriek, and you push on his chest.

“Let me get a beer,” he tells you. He drops his head next to your ear, and his warm breath tickles the side of your face. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Listen,” you whisper, and you gulp as his lips ghost on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Yet when he does it again, your eyes flutter close, and you angle your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

He shakes out of it, taking a step away from you. The sudden absence of contact feels like a cold shower, and you gulp again, this time to swallow the lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

You watch him as he moves to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for himself. He fills it at the sink, and he drinks it all in one go, as if that simple gesture will be enough to sober him up. You highly doubt so, but you’re relieved as he pours himself another glass, this time leaning against the counter to drink it.

“What was that?” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, pulling at his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that,” you tell him. “Especially not when there are people around.”

That second sentence is uttered in a low secretive tone, but evidently he still hears. He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Sorry,” he repeats.

He does look apologetic, if not troubled. Like maybe he lost control of himself for a few seconds, and you see it for what it is – you left your mark on Jeon Jungkook. Because there was desire, in his voice, as he held you close to him. Want, in his half-lidded eyes, like you could just step back into that outer world the power outage consisted of.

But you can’t, and as the sober one, you realize you’ll have to be the one to maintain a safe boundary. No matter how much you hate it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you clear your throat as you open your can. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He smirks lazily. “Liked it?”

The conversation is taking so many 180-degree turns that you feel dizzy, and you shut your eyes, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. It fizzles in your throat, and though it burns you force yourself to drink and swallow.

You only open your eyes to meet Jungkook’s gaze again when half of the can is gone. And you glance towards the door, knowing you’re betraying yourself when you say, “So what if I did?”

“Pretend, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s almost condescending. “What would your brother say?”

You hate the reminder of Taehyung, but it does the trick. It douses you, and you escape Jungkook’s gaze by focusing on the tiles on the floor.

What would Taehyung say indeed. You wonder if he’d jump into a plane and come back right away. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and some part of you believes it might be the only way to keep Jeon Jungkook away from you for the time being. Because without a chaperone around, it’s only bound to happen again.

Especially when he lets his mask of unbothered coolness go. Like he did just a second ago, making your bodily temperature spike. It’s yet to come down, and you take another drink of the lemonade, hoping that it will cool yourself.

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say, reminiscing about what he said to Jaehyun earlier.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out, and he chuckles. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him once more. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

“Ever?”

The question is accompanied by a pout, and you hate the way it makes your gut twist. Like butterflies catching flight, treacherous bugs to make you sick to your stomach.

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He’s grinning, yet he doesn’t say anything, only shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his water.

“What’s up?” Jimin says as he walks into the kitchen. He eyes you and Jungkook, and the safe distance between the two of you, before heading closer. “Is this like a lame roommate-only party the others can’t join?” he jokes, and you step aside to let him access the fridge.

“No,” you answer at the same time as Jungkook.

Jimin snorts. “What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, though your cheeks burn.

“Right.” He clearly doesn’t buy it, and he says, “Peach?”

You gulp. “Don’t ask me, he started calling me that last semester because of Mario Kart.”

“She always chooses Princess Peach!” Jungkook quickly adds, and you think perhaps you’re only digging the grave further.

“Last semester?” Jimin asks, and he’s got a knowing smile on his lips. He’s toying with you two, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze slides to Jungkook as if he has any support to offer, but you think it’s too late. Strangely, Jimin retreats, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he lets out. “Why are you drinking water?”

Jungkook motions to you. “She suggested it. ‘Cause I’m pretty drunk.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, sending you a disbelieved look. “He’s been drunker than this, he can handle himself.”

“Why are you trying to get so plastered?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

Jimin purses his lips. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. It seems Jungkook only needed that encouragement to return to drinking, and you watch in horrified awe as he drinks and drinks, downing shots with his friends as soon as you return to the living room.

You’re not surprised he’s struggling to stand on his feet by the time his friends leave. Jimin and Sera linger for longer, Jimin offering you an apology when he realizes the monster he unleashed.

“I told you,” you say, sighing. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, raising a finger. “I’ll have you know.” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he sways. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and you stifle a laugh as he glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that,” Jungkook tells Sera, speech so slurred you’re not quite sure what he said.

It seems his friends also aren’t sure, because Sera says, “What?”

Jungkook looks at you, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin says, and he starts laughing.

He’s not faring all that better, and he sways on his feet as he clasps Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook loses his balance, but he luckily just falls against the wall, slowly tilting to the side.

“Oh shit.”

All you can do is look at him as he eventually collapses, though he’s laughing the whole time. Jimin follows soon after, and Sera and you just look at them, eyes wide.

“You guys always drink so much?” you ask, directing the question to Sera.

“They do,” she replies, pointing to them. “Believe it or not but Taehyung’s the one that usually gets them not to drink too much.”

You cock an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah yeah.”

“I swear!” she insists, laughing that easy laugh of hers. “He only got too drunk that one time last semester.”

“And he threw up in the car,” you reminisce, while the guys do God knows what on the floor. “Hardly see that as a good influence.”

“He’s not,” Jungkook says from the floor, and you look down to see him sprawled on his back, Jimin giggling next to him. “Your brother is an asshole.” He looks serious for a few seconds, and then he bursts out laughing. You just remain silent, and he’s the one to speak next. “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hand motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose as if in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He forces himself to sit up, leaning against the wall, as Jimin does the same next to him. Though Sera folds and helps Jimin after he’s offered her puppy eyes even you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don’t help,” Jungkook threatens.

“Alright, let’s see you try.” The challenge hangs in the air between the two of you, as Sera and Jimin watch the scene unfolding.

Jungkook turns his head in the direction of your room, but then resumes his attention on you. “Too far.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?” he asks, and he sounds exasperated.

You groan, rolling your eyes, though you finally step closer to him. “We should have asked your friends…” you trail off looking at Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

“Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in,” Jungkook teases as your hands close around his.

His are clammy, warm, but you ignore it, instead pulling him up. It’s a struggle, Jungkook a dead weight, but soon enough you manage to help him stand. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm, trying to steady him.

“I won’t tuck you in,” you say through gritted teeth when he’s finally standing on his own.

You’re about to slide your gaze towards Jimin and Sera when Jungkook cups your cheek, and you think the Earth has stopped revolving around the sound. It stops abruptly, and you’re propelled forward, in those big eyes looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

You want to hate him. Right now, you want to hate him so bad for telling you to pretend nothing ever happened. Because it’s too natural to lean into his palm, too natural to get lost in his eyes.

How many girls has he ensnared with that sparkly gaze? How many of them have fallen for the trap, only to be abandoned when he’s done playing?

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

He blinks once, slowly, and then turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. Jimin’s mouth is agape, and Sera looks like she’s about to burst out laughing, that knowing glint in her eyes so bright it almost puts Jungkook’s gaze to shame.

“Shit, you’re still here?” Jungkook lets out.

“Not anymore!” Jimin quickly replies, and he tugs Sera towards the door. “We’re leaving. You guys do… whatever it is that you’re doing. We didn’t see anything.”

You move away from Jungkook, and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you for a few seconds before it falls aimlessly at his side. You take a step towards Jimin, calling his name.

He looks at you when he has an arm in the sleeve of his coat, the other one yet to be put on. “Yeah?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, trying to put as much conviction in your tone as you possibly can. “He’s just drunk.”

“Oh.” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. I won’t say shit to Taehyung. I like Jungkook’s head on his shoulders.”

You gulp, your throat feeling so dry you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d die. “Who said anything about Taehyung?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?” he enquires.

You shoot a look towards Jungkook, who looks like a kid who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He’s pouting, eyes angled to the floor, and his hands are hidden in his pockets, as if he doesn’t trust them to not touch you right now.

“No?” you let out once you turn back towards Jimin and Sera.

Both of them finally have their coats on, but you think it’s too late. It’s too late – no matter what he says, Jimin will tell Taehyung. He’s a busybody, through and through, and you just know Taehyung’s ought to know by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

You can only hope you’ll be able to weather the storm when it’ll hit.

“I was just going to say…” you start, not really knowing where to head. “Honestly, nothing more than that – he’s just drunk. If you want to tell Taehyung that Jungkook’s handsy when he’s drunk, I don’t think that’ll surprise him.”

Jimin throws you a no-bullshit look, as if he was there during the power outage. As if he saw the way Jungkook held you, and the way he fucked you like it was the end of the world.

“To be fair, Jungkook is handsy all the time,” Sera cuts in. “Did you see how he was sprawled on Lisa earlier?”

You don’t know why she’s throwing you a lifeline. But you remain silent, not wanting to dig the grave deeper, and you just offer a nod and a tight-lipped smile to Jimin. He does look confused for a few seconds until he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. “I’m way too drunk for this shit anyway.”

And then he’s turning around, opening the door to step outside. Sera watches him go fondly, before turning towards you again.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “He really is drunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you walk to the door. You hug her goodbye, before holding the door open for her. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“See you!” Jimin yells from the bottom of the stairs, and you wince hoping you won’t get a noise complaint.

“Shut up,” Sera hisses through her teeth, and Jimin throws an apologetic look in your direction before his girlfriend grabs his arm, forcing him to follow her as she walks away.

You look at them for a few seconds before shutting the door behind you, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to face Jungkook again. A moment of you looking at some chipped paint on the door, wondering how it is that the stars aligned to put you in such a compromising position with your brother’s best friend.

How is it that he had to seduce you, only to walk away like nothing happened after? It makes your blood boil in your veins, and you turn around with ire in your gaze, directed at the man leaning against the wall.

He’s still staring at the floor, his features blank. You wonder what’s going on in that thick head of his. Is he regretting this? Is he realizing that no amount of pretending will ever be enough to cover the fact that you did the irreparable, together?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask him, venom dripping from your voice.

He looks startled, big eyes going wide as saucers as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be onto us!” You vaguely motion behind you, before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?”

You see red. You see blood red, like a bull and its red flag, and you cross the distance between you and him. He waits for you, lips spreading in a lazy smirk as he leans his head against the wall, only so that he can look down his nose at you. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his features.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head to the side, the perfect picture of arrogance.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook,” you drawl, shutting your eyes in annoyance. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes to glare at him. His tongue toys with his piercing, before pushing on the inside of his cheek.

“He won’t be,” Jungkook affirms like it’s the truth to the universe. “Why would he? Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he pushes.

You sigh, fists clenched so hard they’re leaving moon-crescent indents in your palms. “Like we’re friends. You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you like when I’m touching you,” Jungkook says, voice dropping an octave.

You stare at him in disbelief, quite at the same time as your heart starts racing in your chest.

“Shut up.”

He raises his hand in defence. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

You try to school your features into neutrality, but you don’t know if it works. Don’t know if he can tell that your blood is rushing to your cheeks, threatening to have the effects of his words show on your face.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and a finger of his finds your clenched fist, tapping gently on it. He doesn’t stop there – his digit slowly moves up your arm, and all you can do is stand, frozen in place. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

You hate him. You really do. You don’t understand how he’s able to say this shit when he’s drunk, but then again, maybe he’s wanted to say it sober, but his inhibitions were keeping him in check. Now, nothing forms a barrier between his mind and his mouth, and the words come forth to taunt you, tease you.

To make your heart race in your chest as you look up at those big doe eyes.

“I’m not mad,” you insist, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

He nods. “See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it.”

Now, it hurts. It almost hurts enough to cut through the blinding anger in your blood, though you cling to the anger like it’s a buoy. You cling to it like it’s the path to safety, and maybe it is.

Maybe it is, because Jeon Jungkook is danger personified.

So, you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest. “Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered.

He sucks on his piercing, and you think his gaze has gone darker. It’s clouded with lust, all directed at you. When he looks at you like that, you feel like the rest of the world goes out of focus, like all there is is him.

Which is quite frankly the reason why you need to stay away from him. To never let him approach you again, to never lower your guard with him again. For Taehyung, yes, but also for your heart that’s barely recovered from Sam Hwang.

It’s strange, to think that you started the evening with Sam, only to finish it so close to Jungkook. To finish with so little distance between you and Jeon Jungkook that you fear you might crash in his orbit once more.

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach,” he says, voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

And you are. You’ve laid your hand flat on his chest, and you can feel the racing of his heart under your palm. You make to move your hand away, but he quickly puts his hand over yours, clammy fingers keeping you close.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His sentence makes you insane. Makes the red spark to life again, and you quickly step away. It’s like you were in a trance – you blink once, twice, and Jungkook appears in all his drunk glory again. He looks at you carefully, the lust fading as he beholds the emotions on your face, the mask you’ve let slip.

“Don’t ever tell me that again,” you warn him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t,” you insist, scoffing. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-“

Jungkook interrupts you by grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. You’d expected it – you’re the mere comet, and he the star. Though you might have come from Kuiper’s belt, Jungkook has been pulling you in, and there’s no escaping his gravity.

So even though you shouldn’t, you kiss him back. You kiss him back, pushing him back towards the wall. He hits hard, and he huffs out a breath that you swallow as your tongue darts in his mouth. You taste the alcohol on his breath, but more than that you taste him – the inebriating taste of Jeon Jungkook makes your mind spin in no time, and you’re forced to take a step back.

To take a step back and look at his pink lips, now swollen from the kiss. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing is ragged, chest going up and down quickly, much like yours is, too.

“Don’t kiss me again,” you say.

And you walk away. You don’t look at him once before slamming the door to your room shut, hands shaking so hard you think you’ll break. The shaking threatens to take over your whole body, and you almost expect Jungkook to follow you.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the sound of his door softly shutting is like a flatline, haunting you terminally. Like there will be nothing more after that than the memories of his lips on yours, of his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Though it might be sad, though every inch of your body is craving for his touch, you need to be sane. You need to stop before you both get in too deep. Because, even though you could have him now, even though he’s just on the other side of the wall, the moment Taehyung is back, it would have to be over.

You don’t want to get involved with someone that you’re only bound to lose anyway.

You don’t sleep after that, sleep evading you in favour of your spiraling thoughts. You let them carry you like the tornado that they are – you’re in too deep already.

What will be left of you when the tornado spits you out?

Prev | Chapter 6.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Ughhhhh they are annoying I love them. What did you guys think? Let me know <3

624 notes · View notes

latenightdaydreams · 5 months ago

Text

MDNI🔞 (fem)

Master List

>cw fem/afab, p in v, oral, fingers

Just thinking about what it would be like to be König's long time girlfriend. The one he loves so much he takes them with him whenever he visits home.

König taking you home to visit his mom, but she’s an old fashion woman and doesn’t want you both sleeping in the same room. Because of this, König sneaks into your room at night as you sleep. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at you, sound asleep. He pulls up the blanket from the bottom and crawls under.

His lips kissing your feet and making you twitch, accidentally kicking him and making him chuckle to himself. He continues until he gets to your pussy. You always sleep without pants, making this easy for him.

König slips your underwear to the side, pulling your thick thighs apart slightly. He sticks his long fat tongue out and begins to lightly lick your clit. His lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly as he shakes his face between your lips. Your pussy has a powerful aroma from you sweating in the hot bedroom; he loves it.

His hands move your thighs apart more as he presses his face deeper into your pussy, trying to get room to tongue fuck your little cunt. Lapping up your arousal and drinking you in. You wake up feeling an overwhelming euphoric pleasure before realizing König is devouring you.

Sunday, during church, he takes a shower with you. The warm water cascading down your body as König has bent over, his large hands grasping your hips. He rams his cock into you, water splashing from the collision. Your pussy is tight around his throbbing and needy cock. A quiet mumble of German words leaves his hips as he sees the beautiful view of your wet ass jiggling.

When he’s ready to cum, you drop to your knees and open your mouth, hungry for his salty cum. Your eyes practically begging him to use you as a cum dumpster. Loud moans slip from his lips as he sees his white cum paint your face and fill your mouth.

When his mom is in the garden, he will pull you into the bathroom, setting you down on top of the sink counter, and shove three of his fat fingers into your cunt. Curling his fingers upward as he pumps his arms back and forth.

Your moans fall quietly from your lips as his other hand grabs a fistful of hair and forces you to look into his eyes. His hips roll, rubbing against your leg, needing the friction. His blown-out pupils hide his pale eyes. He looks deeply into your eyes waiting to see your face as you orgasm. It's the most beautiful thing in the world to him. König doesn’t stop until your body writhes and you squirt all over his hand and onto the bathroom floor. His mouth doing clean up so you can both go back and join his mother.

#konig #könig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #konig cod #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod smut #smut #cod konig #könig call of duty

1K notes · View notes

buckybabesonly · 2 years ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Masturbation (male)

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!

“Hey. Are you listening?”

A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.

“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”

“No,” you confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.

“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”

You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.

He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.

“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.

“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”

“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”

“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”

You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.

“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.

“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.

His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.

“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.

“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.

Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.

You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.

Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.

He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.

But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.

God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.

He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.

His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.

Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.

He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.

His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.

Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.

He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.

Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.

He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.

In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.

He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.

He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.

He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.

“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”

He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.

You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.

“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.

Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.

He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.

Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.

One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #Bucky x you smut #Bucky x you PWP

4K notes · View notes

percervall · 1 year ago

Text

sometimes you break so beautiful

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x fem!reader Words: 1800 Warnings: Ferrari being Ferrari, smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, light choking, so many alliterations

In which Carlos just wants to forget The Belgian Grand Prix

---

The moment you see the replay of the collision between your boyfriend and Oscar, you know it’s a done race. You hear his engineer confirm the damage and the effect of it on the aerodynamics of the car and your heart sinks. This should have been his race, starting fifth but yet again you feel the quiet resignation settle in your bones when you realise Ferrari are miles away from giving these boys the car they deserve. It’s a mystery to you why they keep Carlos out on the track as he continues to slip further down, an anger blazing through you at the torture they’re subjecting him to, until they finally decide to retire the car on lap 25. All you can do is watch him climb out of his Ferrari, your hands clenched in front of your chest. You reach out a hand, brushing against his arm as he walks past you. Carlos gives your hand a squeeze without meeting your eyes, but he’s telling you all you need to know about how he’s feeling. During the remaining 19 or so laps you keep an eye on him as he shuts the world out with the Ferrari headphones and quickly debriefs his engineer in rapid Italian. He won’t show his emotions, not with all the cameras around, but you can tell by the way his jaw is set and his posture that he is suffering, quietly, waiting until he’s away from prying eyes to fall apart.

In the end, him falling apart doesn’t happen until you’re back in the hotel. Sometimes the post-race engagements and responsibilities are more exhausting than the race itself, especially with all the social media content nowadays. Charles shoots you a worried glance as the three of you exit the lift.

“I’ve got him,” you whisper, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you turn left to head to your room. Carlos has already unlocked the door to your shared hotel room and has finally found some reprieve from the public. When you shut the door behind you, you find him sat on one of the chairs, head in his hands. Taking off your coat and shoes, you make your way over to him, pulling him against you. With a shuddering breath, Carlos wraps his arms around your waist as he burrows his face against your stomach. You swallow down your own feelings about this season and run your fingers through his hair. Carlos’ shoulders shake with silent sobs as his tears soak through your shirt. This is more than just one bad race, more than a less than ideal car; This is months of fighting to be heard by the engineers, of dealing with contract uncertainties, of playing second fiddle, of being pushed past his breaking point.

“What do you need?” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Help me forget.. Please, I just need to stop thinking,” comes his answer as he looks up at you, those big brown eyes glimmering with unshed tears, voice breaking. You rest your palms against his cheeks, brushing away the tears with your thumb, before leaning forward and kissing him softly.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, echoing your promise to Charles, your heart breaking into pieces when his eyes fill with equal parts hope and heartache. Carlos allows you to pull him to his feet and move him towards the bathroom. While you turn on the shower, Carlos begins to undress. As soon as his shirt drops to the floor, he’s on you, still wearing his trousers as needy fingers find their way under your shirt, pulling it up and over. You’re quick to raise your arms, allowing him to undress you as you do the same for him in return. Taking his hand, you pull him under the spray of the shower, hissing as the hot water hits your skin. Carlos wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself against your back as he buries his face in your neck. Turning around in his arms, you kiss him, pouring all the love you have for him into that kiss. Carlos sighs against your lips, some of the tension easing out of his tensed muscles. He makes this pained noise in the back of his throat as he moves you back until you end up against the wall. He breaks the kiss and the look he gives you steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are parted, cheeks flushing already with both the heat from the shower and arousal, but his eyes betray just how conflicted he’s feeling; there’s a mixture of trepidation and need.

“I can take it, let me carry it,” you soothe him, fingers smoothing out the lines on his face. Yet another wall seems to crumble down as he dives in for another kiss. His hand rests against your jaw as the other grips your hip. You can tell he’s holding back –there’s a fury simmering in his body now that the edge of sadness has dissipated.

“I need you to use me,” you whisper, tugging on his hair to break the kiss. He lets out the most beautiful moan at the pain and the last shred of self control snaps. Carlos tightens his grip on your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he pins you in place with his own body, trapping his now hard cock between the two of you. You can feel him throb against your stomach and it has you clenching in anticipation. Usually Carlos is a tender lover, always making sure he makes you feel so, so good. But when he gets like this –when there’s pent up frustration simmering just below the surface, he becomes the most greedy and just takes and takes and takes.

His lips find the pulsepoint behind your ear, sucking a bruise onto your skin. You hiss at the sting, tilting your head to grant him better access. Carlos hums and continues his assault, leaving hickeys and bites across your clavicle and down to the swells of your breasts. His hips thrust up as you whimper when his teeth graze over your collarbone. He slides the hand holding your hip down, parting your folds to find you already wet for him.

“Always ready for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs against your skin and all you can manage to reply is a whispered yes as he slides the tip of his finger inside of you. The intrusion has you panting, swallowing around a moan as he slowly fucks you, thumb lightly pressed against your clit. It’s enough to have you throbbing but not enough to alleviate the ache.

“Please..” you whisper, desperation already setting in. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he rubs fast circles against your clit. This is not about your pleasure, this is purely him strumming your body in preparation for what he has in store for you. The steam of the shower that’s still running makes it hard to think as lust clouds your brain the way the vapour steams up the shower screen and mirror.

“That’s it, mi vida… Let go for me,” Carlos whispers in your ear and something just snaps as you fall over the edge.

Heart still hammering against your chest, you have become putty in his hands as Carlos turns you around. The cold tile makes for a welcome contrast against your heated skin, fingers desperate to find purchase against their wet surface.

“Joder,” you hear him whisper, hands roughly kneading your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed as you push back against him.

“Need-.. Please.. Need it..” you mumble, arching your back even more. Realistically you know this will hurt, your body not ready to accommodate his size –not like this at least– but at this point you no longer care it will ache come morning. You will gladly hurt for this stunning man, who holds both unbridled joy and brooding darkness so beautifully it makes you dizzy with how much you love him, if it means he won’t –not for a few hours at least. The stretch of him slowly entering you has you keening and you throb around him as Carlos gives you a moment to adjust.

“Fuck, so tight,” he rasps, lips against the shell of your ear. You can only nod, holding yourself up with one arm as the other comes to rest on the hand still holding your hip. Giving his wrist a squeeze you wordlessly let him know it’s okay, that you won’t break. You swear you can almost hear him grit his teeth, his grip on your body tightening as he fucks into you; long strokes at first until your body goes pliant and he does as you told him: he uses your body to fuck all his frustration out of his system. The angle allows Carlos to brush against that spot inside of you with the head of his cock, setting your body alight with pleasure. He gives you none of the usual praise, just an unrelenting pace as one of his hands wraps around your throat and pulls you flush against him. The weight of his hand is enough to have you clenching around him, your second orgasm approaching rapidly. Carlos bites down on where your shoulder meets your neck, his hips stuttering as he comes with a muffled groan. It’s enough to send you flying as well, a sob tearing itself from your throat as you come so hard, your vision blurs.

Carlos removes his hand from your throat, wrapping the arm around your chest instead as he holds you up. You let out a whimper as Carlos pulls out, allowing him to turn you back to face him and move you back under the spray of the water. As you’re coming down from your high, Carlos takes care of you, gently cleans both of you before shutting the shower off. After drying yourself, you wrap the towel around your body, twisting your still damp hair up into a messy bun. He takes your hand and both of you move to the bed, exhaustion hitting you hard. You sigh as your body relaxes into the soft sheets, Carlos’ body curling around yours as he presses himself against your back. You turn in his arms, brushing wet strands of his hair back as you look at him.

“Thank you, amor,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“I love you,” you murmur back, snuggling further into your boyfriend. You know he will be apologetic in the morning when he takes stock of the bruises decorating your skin, but you will gladly become a canvas for him to process his grief and anger knowing he would offer you the same in return.

Wrote this pretty much in one sitting and it's barely edited. After struggling to write anything for the past month, this just poured out of me. Guess I need to literally suffer for my art, thanks Ferrari.

This fic existing is thanks to @curiousthyme and @moneyymaseyy, there's no one I'd rather watch F1 (suffer through Ferrari) with

Please feel free to let me know what you think, your comments, tags and likes means the absolute world to me

#f1 fanfic #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz jr smut

1K notes · View notes

strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

Text

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington sickfic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things

911 notes · View notes

astonmartingf · 7 months ago

Text

YOU'RE IN MY MIND, IM IN YOUR SHADOW ; FA14

fernando alonso x ferrari teammate! reader . . . after getting involved in a race accident with fernando, you're left with the repercussions of that crash

amgf accidents, crashes, and hospitals, it's just angst uhm yeah, it's angst, who compelled me to do this 😀🫵 literally no one ever but enjoy 👍 AHAHAHA. i bet you weren't expecting this but here you go

One blink and it all came crashing down.

Literally.

It all happens so fast, it's usually how it goes, one second you're trying to maneuver into a turn, the next you feel your teammates' front wing behind your back. And from then all you see was black.

"Miss LN? If you can hear us please blink your eyes." Wincing, you pull back from the glaring light in the room. Immediately the smell of antiseptic and bleach fills your nose, scrunching from the overwhelming scent wafting in the room.

You blink adjusting from the light, gulping at the dry feeling on the back of your throat, you don't attempt to talk. Closing your eyes, you shake your head, ignoring the questions as doctors and staff hover over your bed.

You knew better than to misbehave, it wasn't the doctor's fault, they were just doing their job, something you didn't do clearly as you got into a crash.

What a rookie mistake— you couldn't care less about the pulsating pain all over your body, knowing fully well they won't hurt as much as the blow of being dropped off by Ferrari.

You knew deep down they were going to choose him. Fernando Alonso, teammate, rival, lover.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with fewer people in your room. Mainly your manager, physio, a few members from Ferrari, and Flavio Briatore. It only dawned on you what had happened.

You crashed onto Fernando Alonso, and right now his manager is in front of you. Just how long were you under? How much damage was done to the car? There were so many questions going through your head, mainly of Fernando, second of your career. What was going to happen after this?

"Where—" The dryness of your throat scratches back at you, coughing from the unexpected friction. You accept the bottle of water offered to you, it was only then you realized the sore and numb feeling of your body.

You gasp as the bottle slips from your fingers, leaving you staring at your manager, tears welling down your eyes. The feeling of vulnerability seeps through as you look away and stare at the pool of water beside you.

You watch your team tiptoeing around you, their eyes filled with pity. It's sickening. Lifting your blanket you catch a glimpse of the bruises littering your body, shifting in the bed your face scrunches feeling you back burning in pain.

Your manager holds a new bottle of water in front of you, this time with a drinking straw on it as you glance around the room looking for inkling clues on Fernando's whereabouts. Your thoughts trail back moments before the race.

Sneaking in his room beside yours, away from the eyes of the cameras capturing every moment of your rivalry. You still hold the warmth, the lingering feeling of his kiss before the race began. His words, whispering sweet nothing in your ears, replaying every moment before you stepped into your car. It was flashing in front of your eyes, it only scared you more.

He was nowhere to be found, and the silence around you only made it more frustrating, they could only stare at you with the sickening pity on their eyes. No one stepped in to talk first, the rhythmic beeps of the machine connected to your fingers supplying the only source of sound remaining in your room.

Pressing the button, all eyes turn towards the television. Coincidentally you're greeted with the familiar Ferrari Red on the screen, you notice your car turning on the familiar corner before being flipped in the air. It was only then you realized that you were watching Fernando's on boards.

Your eyes scan the news headline in red, "FERRARI DRIVERS' YN LN AND FERNANDO ALONSO INVOLVED IN A COLLISION DURING LAST WEEK'S GRAND PRIX." The date on the other side of the screen indicates the day of the week— it's been three days. Three days it took for you to wake up, with Flavio in your room it must mean one thing.

"He's in a coma."

The words the doctor said as you sat in a wheel chair, in front of Fernando's door. The smile on your face dissipates, frozen in front of his hospital room. Fernando wasn't awake yet. With shaky hands, you drop them off the doorknob, instead you push yourself back to your room.

You couldn't bear looking at him. It would be unfair to blame it all on him, but it hurts you more that he was the one who crashed into you, and look at what he had done. Not just physically, you're on the verge of breaking down every second of the day, tears pulling at the corners of your eyes and you couldn't say anything.

To your team, you were just mourning the loss of the race and points, but deeper you were worried about Fernando, he was your boyfriend for God's sake yet you couldn't do anything. You couldn't even defend him as rumors and articles slowly come out about the crash, with Fernando's ulterior motive making you lose points for the Driver's Championship.

You knew what they were saying wasn't true, but with the isolation and avoidance of the situation you slowly begin to spiral in the what ifs and question if there truly had been some power play before the race.

Fernando wouldn't do that to you? He wouldn't... And as the hours turn into days, your desperation for answers gets clearer by the day. You find yourself sneaking into his room, wishing nothing but to pour your heart out in tears, and crying yourself to sleep. But you couldn't.

You couldn't even let yourself be vulnerable for a second, because to them, you were rivals before teammates. You just sit and stare at him, watching as he breathes peacefully, unaware and no clue of the commotion he has caused.

You can't help but laugh at the situation you're in. Three years ago, you'd laugh and pray for his downfall, only three years later you would find yourself crawled up in his sheets, grasping for warmth, getting the last minutes of sleep before sneaking out of his hotel room and playing the character of his racing rival.

You smile to yourself, wiping the tears off your eyes, "I'm not mad at you. I don't care if you planned this, you could crash at me for the rest of the race, I'm telling you please wake up. If you blame me, I would take it, I'd take that, tell me you hate me. Tell me it's my fault, I just want you back."

By some stroke of luck, or that your prayers had worked Fernando woke up the next day. You woke up to the sound of whispers in your room.

You heard from nurses that the patient from 3314 had woken up. You find yourself preparing to meet him, looking forward to a nurse inviting you to his room.

What wishful thinking.

It had been days since Fernando woke up, yet you were still blind to his condition. Despite feeling better, and walking to and from the hallways you haven't heard anything about Fernando.

"Good morning YN, we're going to visit Fernando today." You raise your brows at Flavio's words, unsure of his implications. You knew of their close relationship, but you both decided to keep your relationship under the wraps— as tight as can be, that really there are only two people involved, you and Fernando himself.

The rest of the world only saw you as racing rivals and nothing more, which made you bitter given the situation. There was always an ulterior motive behind the interactions with you two, and even now, you couldn't believe yourself for staying away from him so long.

Maybe it's because you were focused on your healing, and the wishful thinking that Fernando would also keep you in his thoughts as he recuperated, albeit slower than you, you prayed that you would meet him soon, despite being placed two rooms apart, you barely saw glimpses of him, much to your dismay.

But maybe it was for the better, your mind immediately blanked out after his doctor spoke about his condition. His words pass through your ear and out the other, standing still with both feet glued in the same spot, hands growing sweaty and bracing yourself from the impact of his words.

"He— Fernando has amnesia? Is that what you're telling me?" Your voice is slowly thinning out, shaking away the tears building up your eyes, your heartbeat picking the pace as you're left to fully comprehend what the doctor said. Giving yourself little to no time to prepare.

You stop Flavio from opening the door, "Does he remember you?" You watch Flavio nod his head in confidence.

"I doubt he will forget you, you're his rival out there, he's been asking about you since he woke up."

Your ears perk up at his words, nodding to yourself. Of course he'd say that, Flavio doesn't know a thing. You let go of his hands, along with the nerves building up.

Trying to not let your excitement show, you follow Flavio into the room, matching his pace hiding behind his figure to hide yourself from Fernando. Flavio moves aside and you're struck, slowly taking in Fernando's state, the bandages no longer crowned on top of his head as you scan the healing bruises on his body.

"LN. You're here to pray for my downfall? I bet it was your recklessness that caused this crash." The coldness of his voice felt like water splashed all over your face, throwing you off.

Flavio instinctively moved you behind him, shocked at his hostility.

You stumble behind, lost in your thoughts, he hasn't called you that since you were together. You dare your eyes to catch a glance at his, it was no longer filled with the same softness he cast upon you when you're alone. Instead you were met with the cold glare in his eyes, "What are you staring at for? Think you can beat me now that I'm injured? You better watch your back LN."

LN. He hasn't called you by your last name for the last two years, not in public anyway. When you two were alone, it was always, amor— or some stupid nickname to set you off.

You deny the idea of him forgetting about you two, thinking if this was one of his games, a rather cruel one to play, but it wasn't as if you'd have it any other way. You look through his eyes once more, ignoring the clawing feeling in your heart, the pressing signals in your head to stop, but you can't help but try once more. Maybe this time, he'll realize and see it in your eyes. The relationship you have together, buried in the memories of your longing eyes. "Do you really not remember me?"

Fernando rolls his eyes with a 'tsk' "Now you're getting annoying, I told you LN, stop with this good girl act and get out of my room."

You don't need to be told more, turning your feet, you feel the room blur as your vision shakes, the ringing in your ear grows as you make your way to your room. Muffling the sound of your tears, you feel your legs weaken, back leaning against the door, shaking your head in disbelief.

Fernando was finally awake. Fernando survived the crash and is finally healing.

But this Fernando has forgotten four long years of history. Four years ago, back when all you were to Fernando was another rookie in his way, filled with hatred and not love.

#f1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 imagine #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso angst

332 notes · View notes

ufcconor · 8 months ago

Text

Come on, baby

Knox x F!Reader

(Y/n) Brandt has a history with her fathers most trustworthy hit man

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Getting the call from Gerald Brandt was a surprise to say the least. “Knox, I need you!” “What do you need?” Gerald screams into the phone, “Knox, my Idiot son is fucking things up!” “I’ll leave right away.” “And Knox, look after (y/n).” Knox pauses, excitement brewing in him. “You know I will.”

I see a man walking down the dock to the shitty houseboat named so cleverly “The Boat”. I sit up from my chair, holding onto my hat in the low wind as the boat rocks in the water. “That’s the new bouncer at the roadhouse Ben keeps going on about?” The smirk grows on my lips. My friend meets my gaze, staring at the man as he steps onto the boat and shamelessly begins to work out in the sun. “He’s hot.” I lean on the railing.

I wave my hand towards him as my boat sails by. “Looking good over there!” He stops mid-sit up and waves with a small smile before continuing his set. My friend scoffed with a smile. “I'm assuming you’re taking a trip down to the bar tonight.” I shrug sitting back in my hair and sipping my margarita. “Might be.”

I walk into the bar and scan the scene. The music is upbeat, and the people seem to be calm… for now at least. I allow my eyes to scan the entire place until I see him. Sitting at the bar, and quietly observing. I walk to him and take the seat directly beside him. I smile at the bartender, “Rum and coke please.”

The man beside me smirks as I mindlessly pat my fingers on the bar looking around. I meet his eyes and drop my jaw dramatically. “Well, what are the chances? Hey there handsome.” “My name’s Dalton.” I shake his hand, “(y/n). Nice to see you again. Shirt on this time, but we can work on that.”

Night after night I’d go to the roadhouse and sit with Dalton. Flirting and talking, were all fun. When there was an issue he’d get up, handle it with some sarcastic banter and strong punches, and then he’d be back beside me with a cheeky smile as if nothing happened. I like a man who can handle himself. He was a sweet guy to top it off. He definitely shouldn’t be the one to be here taking care of this matter. He shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with my idiot brother and his schemes.

I put six sandwiches on a plate and exit the home to the back patio. “Sandwiches are on the bar!” I yell to the boys as I sit down in a chair, opening my book. Not long after I gained inner peace, a loud collision struck right in front of the house. I tear my shades off as a figure enters. “Who the fuck put those bikes in my way?” I watch as Knox strolls in. “Who the fuck are you?” Clyde asks. Knox raises his hand to his face, “Shh.”

He walks to the bar and praises the leftover sandwiches. “Thank you, God. Sandwiches. I’m fucking famished.” He bites into the bread with a growl.

This can not be happening. I was set on the fact that I would not have to see this asshole ever again. The memories flash so quickly. A day full of shopping. The 4 bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurant in Rome. Romantic walks down the streets. Long nights full of him showering me with endless pleasure.

Moe bursts in quickly, “He knocked all the fucking bikes over!” I roll my eyes going back to my book. I’d rather not be involved in whatever the hell he’s doing. I turn the page in my book trying to focus on the words cascading down the page but I can feel his eyes burning onto my frame. Clyde towers over him. “Now you got a big ass problem, bucko.”

Knox nods, mouth full, “No shit! First off, I’m going to need more than 3 sandwiches.”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Clyde cuts Knox off.

Knox glares at Clyde, meeting his gaze with power. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, lad.” He pushes past Clyde and nears my chair. He stands next to me, looking down at me. I put my book down with a huff. Knox smiles, “What darlin’? Not a word for me? Thought you’d be happy to see me.” I stand up, bumping his arm as I walk past him.

Knox plops down in my seat, lounging back. “Aye, baby. Are you going to make me some more sandwiches or what?” I flip him off as I slam the door shut. “Stupid mother fucking Irish asshole.”

I tear my bathing suit off in a rush. Why the fuck has he come here? Something to do with my father no doubt. I step into the shower trying to calm my nerves, trying to burn out the heat that ignites in my core. He always had this effect on me. I can't help but remember the night.

I lay back on the couch, my dress hugged my body tightly. Knox saunters over with another glass of wine for me. “Mhh thank you,” I mumble out. He takes a seat next to me. I lay my legs over his thighs, beginning to look over his entire frame. He was big (no doubt everywhere). I run my foot over his crotch. He narrows his gaze at me. “Nah, lassie. That’s not in the cards for you.” He grabs my ankles putting my motions to a stop. I sigh before standing, rolling the wine into my glass. “I thought you were fun.” I lean down to my phone, putting some music on. I sway my hips, my back facing Knox. I down my glass of wine, turning around and arching my back on the wall. His eyes glued to my frame, his orbs burning into mine. I take a step forward, lowering the zipper of my dress with each step. I stand in front of him, zipper completely down, the dress hanging loosely. I lean down, my hands on his shoulders. “Still not in the cards? Even for me?” Knox chuckles, forcing his eye contact to the wall. “You father would have my ass, baby.”

I stand straight again. “Hm, that’s a shame.” I let the straps of the dress off my shoulders, it cascades down to the marble floor delicately. Only clad in my panties and expensive heels I turn away from him, leaving the dress at his feet.

“Fuckin hell.” He mumbles.

Before I know it I’m tossed onto the bed and Knox is kissing up my body and pampering my exposed breast with kisses and bites.

Soon his fingers pumping deliciously in and out of my heat. I arch up with a loud cry as an orgasm races through me. “There's a good girl."

I splash water onto my face. I can’t allow myself to get tangled in with him again. There’s nothing there but an empty promise. I know the bed will be cold by morning.

I step out of the shower and dry my body with the towel before hanging said towel up on the door. I bent over, flipping my head over to start drying my wet hair.

“I always did adore this side of you, love.”

I shoot up and turn around. “What the fuck!” I snatch my towel off the door and hold it up in front of me. “Get out!” He doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer causing me to back up until I hit the countertop. He places his arms on either side of me, making a chance for an easy escape difficult.

He bites his lip looking at my poorly hidden body. He catches the hem of the towel in his fingers. “Why don’t we catch up?” I look at him with wide eyes and anger boiling in my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Knox sucks in a breath. “Now listen, I know how it looked back then.” I scoff and push him away. He doesn’t fight me and allows me to pass. “Hate to see you go, but I love seeing you walk away, baby.” I enter my bedroom and with one last glance at Knox, I slam the door shut.

Ben walks into the back patio and sees Knox sitting in a tanning chair, eating a plate of sandwiches. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Knox nods, “Hey. I got a message for you. From your father.” He stands facing Ben.

Bem furrows his brow, “A message? My father? And what… What is this “message”?” Knox pops Ben in the nose quickly before tossing his arm over his shoulders. “You’re Ben, right? Jerry’s son?” He chuckles removing himself. Knox admires the house. He points to the pool shed. “This is where I’ll store my stuff. And that master bedroom up there is mine. Move your sister's shit in with mine. You can take her room.” Ben shakes his head, confusion clouds his mind. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

Knox grabs a golf club. “Your dad says you’ve been fucking things up.” He turns to Ben, who backs away. “He asked me to lend a hand.”

Ben scoffs, “How would my father know? He’s in a prison, rotting in a cell.” “Don’t be silly. Your father has spies everywhere.”

“Well, you can tell my father…” Ben starts but gets cut off by his sister (y/n) coming out. “Where are you going?” She rolls her eyes. “Why do you care?” She takes a step and Ben grabs her arm. Knox straightens up, anger brewing within him. No one gets to touch her.

“Is it the road house? To see your little boyfriend?” (Y/n) rips his arm off, “Believe it or not but I’m actually likable unlike you.” She walks off. “Don’t go to that fucking bar, (y/n)!” She turns around with a smirk. “Or what?” Knox watches her such as predator watches their prey. Fire brewed within his chest at the thought of some other man touching her, touching what he had claimed.

Ben runs his fingers through his hair, frustration existing on his face. “She’s such a pain in my ass.” He turns back to Knox. “I don’t need your fuckin’ help. I have it all under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Knox swings the club, making Ben back away again. “Yes, I have people out there right now… cleaning up this final issue, and that’s all…” Knox ignored Ben’s confident plan. “So, where’s this bouncer asshole?”

I enter the road house and move to the corner expecting to see Dalton but to my surprise, he’s nowhere in sight. Laura slides my drink over. “He’s late.” I furrow my brow. “That’s a first.”

An hour later Dalton comes in looking a little disheveled. He sits beside me taking a breath. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head. “Had a little mix-up with the sheriff.” I cringe internally, “A mix-up?” My brothers doing. Laura leans over conserved. “What are we talkin’ about?”

A surprising guest speaks a few seats away. “Yeah, what are we talking about?” Ben walks over, taking the seat next to me. “Hey, sis. Thought I told you to stay home.” Ben averts his attention from me. “I’m curious to hear what you were gonna tell her, Dalton. I’m Ben Brandt. (Y/n)‘s brother.”

Dalton smirks, “Let me guess. It’s your turn now.” “My turn?” “You know, to threaten me. Tell me to get out of town. Like your buddy, Big Dick.” Ben chuckled. “No. No, I get the impression that you can’t be threatened.

I wish you could be, but… I’d even bribe you if I thought money would work.” Dalton nods, “Really? How much we talking?”

“Ben, can you just fuck off?” He turns to me, anger in his eyes. “(Y/n) doesn’t it make you curious what an outsider like him… thinks he’s doing here.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Nor do I care. Just get the fuck out of here.”

Ben ignores me again. “So, I guess my question is… Why? Right? It can’t be just some competitive thing, you…you’ve won the fight. You can back off now. But you… you don’t. You just keep… punching and punching and punching. So, why? Why don’t you just stop?” Dalton stays silent causing Ben to exit like a toddler, anger blowing from his ears.

Dalton raises a brow. “Your brother, huh?” “I like to think I’m adopted.” The door opens and Knox strolls in with the bikers behind him. I watch as Knox scans the room making eye contact with me.

Knox strolls around, picking at two separate tables. “Hey, fellas. Looks like you’re havin’ a smashing night!” He swings the golf club smashing every bottle and glass off their table. Knox successfully starts the bar fight and chaos consumes the entire building.

“Dalton! Dalton! Dalton!” Knox screams as he scans the room. I stand up and walk towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Knox chuckled, lowering his head, our noses brushing. “A lot of shit. You wanna try to fix me?” His smirk grows.

“Dalton! Dalton!” On-demand, Dalton yells from the top of the steps. “What?” Knox looks over him as if inspecting. He tosses his head back. “This is the guy?” He asks me, I can see jealousy glowing in his eyes. “Leave him alone, Knox.”

He points to Dalton. “You know, I got sent here special. Just for you.” Dalton stays calm, taking a glance around the chaotic scene. “And you brought all your friends with you?” “I thought you might miss havin’ an audience. I was trying to be thoughtful. Like on pay-per-view. 25 quid. Watch me pulp your face!” Panic pumps through my veins. “You can’t fucking do this, Knox.”

Dalton stands a few feet away now. “You know this guy too?” Knox smirks and looks at me, waiting for my answer. “He’s my father’s employee.” Knox places his hand on his chest, acting like his feelings are damaged. “Aww come on, baby. Don’t be like that.“ He takes my chin between his fingers, his face inches from mine. “How do I know that you squeal when having your pussy eaten just, hm? Right here.” Knox sticks his hand down to my clothed crotch and pats my pelvic bone lightly. I gasp and move away from him. The act so bold in a public setting had my cheeks glowing red and a pool between my legs.

Dalton grabs Knox and shoves it away. “Don’t touch her, man.” Knox smiles at Dalton. “Nah, mate. You don’t get to touch her! SHE’S MINE!” Knox swings his club at Dalton hitting him in the stomach, before punching him and starting a brawl between the two.

I follow some of the bikers outside as they file out. “What the fuck was that?” I scream at Dell. “Stop it, (y/n). You know Brandt wants the road house.” I roll my eyes, “a shitty bar? For real?” I turn on my heel to walk back into the bar, but Knox catches my upper arm and pulls me to his car. “Let go of me, Knox.” He opened the passenger door and oh so helpfully assisted me in. “You and me. We’re going to have a little chit-chat.” He fumes. He’s angry. He flies off, tearing up gravel as he speeds out of the lot. He maneuvers through traffic, passing cars at high speed. “If you slow down we won’t live long enough to talk,” Knox smirks at me. “Ah baby, I’ve missed that smart mouth of yours, truly.”

Knox drifts into a lonely dock and slams the door as he gets out. “Let’s go.” Knox strips his shirt and shoes. I step out and lean against the front of the car, the sand damp on my feet.

Knox shakes his finger at me. “This ain’t you. Where’d my girl go?” I glare at him, “Maybe she’s back in Rome where you ditched her two years ago.” Knox, only a couple feet away smiles again. “All that? Baby you know your father had me running around for him.” “You left me alone with no explanation. You dipped that morning and never spoke to me again.” Knox nods, “Yeah, I did. That’s what your father told me to do.” “Yeah, and you always do what he says huh? Like a dog.”

Knox drops his smile. “And what have you been doing? You used to listen like a good girl. Now look at ya. Fucking around with these assholes.”

“Better than you.”

Knox grabs my arm pulling me to him. “Aww, now I see it. You’ve not been fucked real good in a long time. That it?” I raise my hand and slap him across the face. He pauses for a moment before a dark smirk grows across his lips. “There’s my tiger.”

Fuck it. This is toxic as hell.

I wrap my arms around his broad body, attacking his mouth. He holds me up, holding our bodies as close as possible. Our tongues battling, the passion seeping from each other's mouths. The clawing and scratching of our hands. He kisses down my neck, running his tongue over my collarbones. The hot breeze sticks to the moist surface. He pushes me back onto the hood of the car. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, but first…” he flips the hem of my dress over my thighs, and separates them. “I need to taste ya.”

He kisses the soft skin of my inner thighs. A drunken state unraveled within me. Knox pulls my panties down, taking a look at my private. He nestled between my thighs, "Such a pretty cunt. How did I ever let you out of my sight?" The praises leaving his mouth caused me to gasp. I am unable to speak, unable to ask if he wanted to do this out here, on the beach, given any surprise visitor. All I could do was moan and arch my back onto the cold surface of the car. My heart was racing, blood rushing, toes being forced to curl.

His tongue brushed through my folds, collecting drops of the hot arousal. He moaned against my cunt, sucked on the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Knox," the call of his name made him chuckle against my skin. I had never known such pleasures besides him. I was already close to letting go, his mouth latching onto my clit, once again leaving me to arch her back off the hood. "Let go for me, darling."

With another breathy moan, I release, eyes rolling back into my head, fingernails about to claw stripes into the pain of the car. He lazily licked my slit for a few more seconds before he pulled away, moving up her body to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Knox, fuck me please," I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading. He smiled and followed my order within seconds.

My legs lay wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist tightly. He shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease.

"You feel perfect, angel. Nothing changed." he moaned, his moves quickened fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the area. "So fucking good" Knox panted in between harsh thrusts. My lower body just perfectly crashed together with his. I was in heaven as I felt myself coming closer and closer to my end. "I'm gonna cum." | whimpered so quietly that he could barely hear it. “You're the only man who can make me feel this good,” I whined, I was all his.

His movements grew slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “You’re mine, (y/n).” I was so close, my body was burning. I nod breathlessly, “I’m all yours.” Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

"Good girl." Knox panted and I knew he was about to cum. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it at a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Knox growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state. His body was limp on mine.

We laughed into each other's faces and after a moment of silence and just looked at each other. He moved over to his car, retrieving a blanket. “What are you doing?” I ask still lying in bliss. He spread the blanket on the sand. “A night under the stars. What do ya say, lass?” He picks me up and lays us down on the soft blanket. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. In this moment the world was perfect.

#conor mcgregor #ufc conor mcgregor #conor mcgregor x reader #road house #Knox road house #Knox x reader #roadhouse

165 notes · View notes

stevenssacrab · 11 months ago

Text

Collision

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: On a routine bike ride through your local park, you meet a beautiful stranger in unique way.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mentions of blood, and wound care, descriptions of a bike accident

Word Count: 1.0k

a/n: Just a lil short and sweet one, with the ever beautiful Natasha :D

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

The cool autumn air gently nips at your skin, your cheeks round and rosy pink; you always loved a good evening bike ride around your local park; you first started it as a way to get the daily exercise, but you've grown to love the repetitive motion of pushing the petals, and the wind blowing past your face. Today was particularly beautiful; the sun was setting, a ray of crimson and amber painting the sky.

You like to use this time to unwind and think of nothing substantial, no deadlines, upcoming events, or obligations; be in the moment. As you round your 2nd lap around the park, you’re stuck on whether you should do another lap, while deep in thought, you don’t even see the person riding straight for you at an ungodly speed.

“Hey! Watch out!” A bystander yells, but it is already too late; time slows each second longer than the last as you come speeding toward this woman on her bike; there is no avoiding it; it is already happening. You collided with a painful crack, sending you flying over, landing hard on your shoulder, and tumbling forward.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by a gorgeous woman, her face etched with worry. Her mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything she's saying. You're lost in her eyes, a beautiful mix of blueish green with flicks of amber; she slowly waves her hand in front of your face, snapping back into reality.

"Hello? Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't see you until it was too late." she said, her eyes scanning you for injuries, her face dropping when she saw blood coming from your forehead. "Oh my god, I have a first aid kit in my car; I'll be right back," she said quickly; you watched her run away and disappear momentarily behind the trees; you were inspecting the damage when you heard footsteps running toward you. Your eyes scan over her physique; you definitely overlooked that before.

"Okay, let me take a look," she said smoothly, setting the kit down next to you; she cracked open a water bottle and grabbed your hand; she softly put the water bottle into your hand.

"Here, take this," she says while grabbing a packet of ibuprofen; handing you the tablet, she patiently waits for you to do as instructed; you stare at her, mouth agape, "please," she says, gently motioning at the medication, you obey and swallow the pill, you're staring at her, thoroughly aware that you still haven't spoken a word.

"Th-thank you," you say meekly; you look at the palms of your hands.

"You're welcome," she chirps happily, "Let me take a look," she says, cracking open another water bottle; she pours it onto a towel and gently pats your forehead clean.

"So, what's your name?" she asks, focused on your wound.

"Y/N," you say gingerly, using the opportunity to take in every detail of her face, noticing the 2 moles on her cheek.

"You know it's rude to stare?" she quips, never breaking her focus.

"I-I'm not staring; you're just, in front of me is all." you defended

"Uh-huh, sure," she says cockily, flicking her eyes down to meet yours, you try to hold contact, but when she looks at you, you feel as if she's staring right into your soul.

"So, what do you do?" she asks, trying to fill the silence.

"I'm a firefighter," you say proudly.

"Oh, well, that's unexpected," she says, searching for the Neosporin, "how is a firefighter so clumsy?" she teases, her lips coming to a smirk.

"Clumsy? I'm pretty sure you ran into me," you laugh back.

"Why don't you let me make it up to you over coffee?" she says slyly, her eyes snapping to your lips and then back to your eyes.

"Hmm, I suppose," you tease back as you grab the Neosporin from the kit, handing it to her; she generously applies it, eyes watching your face for any hints of pain.

"Do you live around the area?" she asks, firming her hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, like a 5-minute bike ride from here," you say; you're usually not this open with your personal information, but something about her, you know she's one of the good ones; she grabs a large bandaid and cautiously covers the wound.

"There you go, all better." She leaned back and started putting all the supplies away.

"Oh, let me help you," you say, suddenly moving to help, you knock over the entire box.

"I'm sorry, let me help you," you say; you kneel down and frantically clean up the mess.

"Y/N, relax," she says calmly; she kneels down and helps you clean up.

"Not clumsy, huh?" she says coyly, lifting her brow slightly.

"I'm not. I'm just nervous," you laugh, nervously staring at the ground.

"Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" she questions, slowly closing the space between you, inching closer like an apex predator. You don't know what else to do; you are reduced to a stuttering mess, slowly getting pushed into a nearby tree.

"I-No, I just-" you stutter out; you bump into the tree, suddenly aware of how close she is; you stare at her, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Shhh, it's alright, Y/N," she shushes, gently grabbing your hand; you jump at the sudden contact but instantly melt into her touch.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" she asks sweetly.

"Okay," you say simply, leading her out of the park.

"I'm Natasha, by the way," she says, bringing attention to the fact that you hadn't even asked what her name was; you smack your palm to your forehead, shame engulfing you; how did you forget to ask for her name?

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask your name, ugh," you sighed heavily, hitting your face with your hands.

"It's okay," she laughs, breaking any tension you had left in you. "I mean, I did crash into you, and you did land pretty hard," she says gently, thumbing over your knuckles.

"Thank you for taking care of me," you say shyly, avoiding eye contact, "Well, this is me," you say; you let go of her hand and reach for your keys; you do it slowly; you don't want this to end.

"I'll see you this weekend, right, for that coffee?" she asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

"Yes, definitely."

272 notes · View notes

wordywarriorwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Assignation

Title: Assignation | AO3 | Rating: M | Masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You meet Frankie on your dream vacation and sparks fly...

Warnings: Language. Smut. Alcohol consumption.

The all-inclusive, adults-only resort is undeniably luxurious.

Clear-blue skies. White-sand beaches. Glorious accommodations. It’s an absolute dream vacation destination, and you – long overdue for a break – fully intend to spend your time in paradise eating food you’ve never tried, sleeping in as late as you want, and testing the limits of your liver.

The patio outside your suite offers a panoramic view of the Atlantic, along with a private pool, and gated access to the beachfront. Nearby, you can see people dancing and eating and playing games. You’re far enough away from the noise for it not to be bothersome, but close enough that you can join in any time you like.

Feet in the water. The apples of your cheeks slathered in sunscreen. You let your senses take in the salty air and chlorine, the echoes of laughter and revs of water skis, the sleep-inducing heat, and the chilled-to-perfection cocktail. The buzz in your veins has kickstarted your appetite, and your nose guides your gaze toward the tiki hut across the way, the delicious scent wafting from it prompting you to pocket your room key and make your way onto the sand.

You sip as you precariously swerve and dodge, mindful of your step and the revelry of the other vacationers. You’re being extra careful, so, it’s not your fault when the collision happens. In fact, you were well out of the way of the group of men drinking beer and playing volleyball, but the safe distance you kept wasn’t enough to stop the collision from happening.

The glass in your hand goes flying, the ice and tequila splashing on your face and chest just seconds before you’re entangled with muscled limbs. A blur of a hat and dark eyes, and then, it’s all hops and sweat and the unmistakable scent of coconut. Everything goes tilt-a-whirl, and you roll a few times before your back eventually meets cold water and wet sand. Waves rush forward, and the only thing that prevents you from swallowing a mouthful of brine is a broad-shouldered body blocking the spray.

“You alright?” a deep voice pants, low-timbered and tinged with concern.

A large, warm palm cups your cheek, prompting you to look up and drink in the sight of the man hovering above you. Dark, decadent brown eyes squinted against the bright, late-afternoon rays. Water drip-dropping from the tip of his sun-burned nose, the lobes of his ears, and his lush curls. Plush mouth, lips parted to take in gulps of air. A mustache. A patchy beard.

Christ, he’s beautiful, you think.

“There’s ice in my bra,” is what you say.

His handsome face is completely transformed by his smile. A rich laugh follows, revealing lines around his eyes and mouth that show he’s a good-natured man with a sense of humor, and something about that warms your insides better than any liquor ever could.

When he flops onto his back, exposing your now too-curious gaze to his throat and torso, your belly swoops and your heartbeat kicks up a notch. After a series of slow, deep breaths, he gathers himself, groaning slightly as he sits up and brushes his hair from his face with his forearm.

“Sorry about that,” he says, getting to his feet and offering you a sand-covered hand up. “Guess me and the boys got a little too into it.”

With a flex of his bicep, you’re standing, watching as he deftly retrieves his hat and plops it back onto his head with practiced ease. A moment later, the boys he referenced appear; three grown men, each possessing auras of calm authority as they introduce themselves and ask if either one of you needs a medic. He, who you discover is named Franscisco but-everyone-calls-me-Frankie is quick to wave them off, and so are you.

“Nothing broken,” you insist, tagging along with the group as they start walking as a unit toward dry sand. “Enjoy your game.”

They wave. You wave. Adrenaline waning, you’re a bit wobbly as you move toward the restaurant, and promptly collapse into the first vacant seat you find. A kind attendant brings you a towel and a bottle of water, and after you catch your bearings, your stomach reminds you of your original mission.

Spiny lobster. Yaroa. You’re pretty sure you eat your weight in both, washing it down with a nice, full-bodied chardonnay before topping it all off with bizcocho that is criminally delicious. The journey back to your room is uneventful – though this time, when you pass the volleyball pit, they halt their play, and Frankie nods at you rather sheepishly.

After a quick shower to rinse away the sand and lingering stench of alcohol, you fall into bed and are asleep almost as soon as your head hits the feathered pillow. When you wake, it’s to an unfamiliar ringing and a darkening room. A bit disoriented, you fumble around for the bedside lamp, clicking it on before leaning over to grab the receiver of the room telephone.

“Hello?” you croak.

“Good evening, madam, this is the concierge,” a polite, feminine voice greets. “Sorry to disturb you, but a delivery has arrived for you. May I have it sent to your suite?”

You rub sleep from your eyes and sit up slowly, “Uh, sure. That’s fine.”

There’s no time to ask what it is or who it’s from because all you hear is a cheery thank you, followed by a chirped goodbye and a click as the call is ended. You hang up and take note of the time, and the knock announcing the arrival of the delivery comes a handful of minutes later. Still bleary-eyed and fuzzy-minded, you stumble out of bed and forget all about checking the eyelet before answering.

And to say you’re surprised to find Frankie just beyond the threshold of your hotel suite is an understatement.

Sporting cargo shorts, a maroon-colored t-shirt, and a soft smile. Curls on full display. Sunscreen traded for fabric softener and deodorant. He’s casually, disarmingly handsome, and the bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, coupled with that strong jaw and charming smile that makes you feel all gooey-in-the-middle?

Christ, you’re going to swoon.

“Were you sleeping?” he wonders, tone curious, if not entirely innocent.

You blink slowly. He looks right back at you, now fully smirking, revealing a dimple you hadn’t noticed before – one that somehow insinuates that your appearance has sparked both a keen interest and great amusement. It’s then that you remember how you’d crawled into bed earlier in just a t-shirt and underwear, and now, your bare legs, unsupported cleavage, and unkempt hair are currently on display for him.

“You can see all my cash and prizes, can’t you?” you blurt.

Frankie laughs, but it’s not cruel. He’s also not crude, insisting nothing X-rated is visible, and when he holds the flowers out toward you, you take them without hesitation. Face on fire, you bring the bouquet to your nose and inhale slowly.

“These are lovely,” you murmur, holding them to your chest. “I take it you’re the delivery the front desk called me about?”

“Yeah, Benny charmed the clerk. Got me your room number,” he confesses, left shoulder shrugging. He clears his throat. Rubs his hands on his shorts. “Look, I just – I wanted to say I’m sorry. And make sure you’re okay. I feel bad, you know, for earlier.”

Taken aback, you trace a fingertip along a petal on one of the blooms and swallow hard. It’s a beautiful array. Pale pink, red, yellow, and orange – traditional for the area and likely bought at one of the many on-site gift shops. It’s a kind gesture that flummoxes you because it’s so unexpected and completely unnecessary.

And you don’t know what to say.

You’re a take-charge kind of gal – firing on all cylinders, always ready with a solution or an answer. You’re fully capable of having a conversation with an attractive, amiable man. One with broad shoulders that strain against the seams of his shirt. One who has a bedroom voice, even in the middle of a brightly lit hallway. One who makes you keenly aware with every passing second in his presence that you’re a woman – not just some high-paid, high-powered, pencil-skirt-wearing cog in a corporate machine.

Frankie fiddles with his watch before shoving his hands into his pockets. Effortlessly gracious, he’s forthcoming with another apology – this time, for interrupting your sleep. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his intention to leave you be, and you watch him take a few steps toward the elevator before you find your voice and rediscover your spine.

“Hey, you, uh, want to get a drink?” you call after him. “With me? Or some food?”

He stops. Turns around. That smile and that damn dimple are back, and you just can’t help but grin at him in return.

“I dunno,” he murmurs playfully, thumb rubbing absentmindedly at his chin. “You gonna put some pants on?”

You shrug, “Maybe. And if you’re nice, I’ll might even brush my hair.”

Fannkie’s deep chuckle prompts you to insist that you can be ready in five minutes. Content to wait in the hall, he lifts his wrist, and pointedly eyes his watch.

“I’m timing you, gatita,” Frankie says.

You hurry back into the room, dropping the flowers into the bedside water pitcher before digging frantically through your suitcase and putting on a clean bra and a sundress. You multitask and push your feet into a pair of sandals as you wrangle your tresses. An oversized claw clip saves the day, and after a dab of perfume and a swipe of deodorant, you’ve got your handbag, and are stuffing your phone and room key into it as the door clicks shut behind you.

Leaning against the wall near the elevator, arms casually crossed over his chest; Frankie straightens when he spots you, all smiles as he jabs the button with his thumb, prompting the doors to slide open.

“Four minutes, thirty-three seconds,” he remarks, stepping in after you. “Cuttin’ it close, gatita.” You arch a brow. Purse your lips. Jab the button for the ground floor. You’re amused and failing to hide it, and Frankie knows it, but he doesn’t say anything – he just stands close enough to you to make the butterflies in your stomach go frantic, the teasing wink he tosses in your direction perfectly timed with the doors reopening.

The two of you disembark, walking side-by-side out of the lobby and onto the hotel grounds. Guided by spine-shaking music, past a colorfully lit dance floor, and into the restaurant area proper. Bass and cheering are traded for clinking utensils and quiet conversations, making it easier for the two of you to chat as you peruse. There are menus to be found outside the door of each place, and you and Frankie are quick to agree on a spot about halfway across the property.

The roar of the ocean is smothered by the chatter of guests, who are strategically seated throughout the wide-open, dimly lit space. Frankie hones in on a relatively quiet spot toward the back, and once he’s guided you into a chair, it doesn’t take long for the tiny, modestly set table to become invisible beneath a smorgasbord of food and drink.

A couple of shots of Mama Juana. A cocktail for you. A beer for him. La Bandera and Sancocho. Cassava dumplings and tostones. Spanish flows naturally from Frankie’s mouth, and somehow, it all tastes better when he’s the one ordering and explaining what’s in each dish.

Time passing. Chairs inching closer. Idle chit-chat easing into an interesting conversation. A touch to your forearm. A squeeze to his shoulder. He takes from your plate, and you take from his. The two of you – laughing just a little too loudly, sharing a bottle of wine, and then, a bottle of champagne. Splitting a plate of fresh fruit, with warm, dark chocolate for dipping. Furtive glances, morphing into lingering looks…

“How long are you staying?” you wonder.

“Fly out tomorrow night,” he says, popping a piece of pineapple into his mouth. “You?”

You reach for a slice of mango, “Three weeks. I got here two days ago, and I’m already thinking of ways to stay longer.”

He hums and nods, “I’ll drink to that.”

Glasses raised, the two of you clink and sip, finishing off the bottle with ease. Frankie’s attentive, and quick to offer a top-up, or to order you something more, but you shake your head and decline. You’re comfortably full, pleasantly buzzed, and you let him know it.

“It’s a nice night,” you remark, eyes searching for the waves in the dark. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

Frankie sits back and tosses his napkin on the table, “Want some company?”

You nod, and the two of you set out, meandering down and beyond the main drag, strolling by fountains and decorative greenery before hitting the gardens. The two of you stick to the lit paths, strides matching, easily picking up where you left off.

“My ex and I – we split up about five years ago,” he says without a trace of upset. “And I told you about my daughter.”

“Maya, starting first grade in the fall, hates crunchy peanut butter,” you recite.

Frankie chuckles. Goes on to say that she’s the reason he stays in Florida. That work (helicopter tours) is easier to come by in a state with a lot of tourism, and it’s heavily populated by impatient people with disposable incomes, meaning he makes good money on chartered flights as well.

“Makes sense,” you agree. “And the guys – you said you’re all from the same unit?”

He nods, “We do this once a year – pack up and go somewhere to blow off steam. We made it a thing after… Well, anyway. Enough about me. What about you?”

You shrug, “I work. A lot.”

“Family?”

“Either dead or out of state.”

“Friends?”

“Believe it or not, I do have a few,” you insist.

Frankie makes a sound of skepticism, and you swear you have friends – that you were, in fact, a bridesmaid at a wedding last year, and present for a baby shower a few months ago, but he doesn’t believe you. You prove it to him, showing him a video of your gift being unwrapped, followed by several snaps of the wedding party, all donning western-themed garb.

“Look,” you point out. “I even wore a bonnet and petticoats.”

“You most certainly did,” he half-laughs, half-snorts.

A playful swat to his shoulder, and then, he’s grinning and hooking his pinky around yours. A nonchalant thing – a flirtatious, silent request to touch, to get just a little bit closer, and you like it. By the time you’re headed back toward the resort, your fingers are intertwined, and the steps the two of you take become progressively slower as you approach a discreetly hidden path lit up by tiny, white lights.

Frankie gently, carefully, pulls you into his arms. You go, all too willingly, goosebumps spreading at the heat and proximity of his body so close to yours. He crooks a finger under your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back and lift your eyes up so you can witness his intentions for yourself.

“Are you going to let me kiss you, gatita?” he wonders.

“I was hoping you would,” you reply.

Another smile – this one slow and sweeter than syrup. Then, your face is cupped in his warm hands, and he’s closing the little distance that remains. Frankie kisses you like he means it – unbridled, but not unskilled, tongue dipping and teeth nipping in such a way that you’re left reeling, unable to anchor yourself as he slowly retreats and rushes in for more. You know this time with him is finite, that tomorrow, he’ll be gone, but for now, in this moment, he’s yours.

A pause – quiet and searching, but still seeking, his mouth eager to return, as if he can’t help himself, lips chasing even though you’re not running. Hands now gripping your waist, squeezing, throat bobbing as he swallows hard and lets out a ragged breath against your neck.

“Do you – I want – I’ll stop,” he rasps. His actions immediately contradict his words when he brings your hips together, pressing up against you as his mouth runs along your jaw and the shell of your ear. “I’m – shit. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

You shake your head and dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders, “Don’t stop.”

A groan, and then, he’s kissing you again, and the ache that’s begun to settle between your legs is becoming an insistent, unbearable throb – one you want Frankie to alleviate with a passion that’s bordering on desperation. You pry yourself from him, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide his tempting, kiss-swollen lips from your view.

“My room,” you insist. “Let’s go.”

Hand-in-hand this time, the two of you practically jog back to the resort. Frankie stops off at a shop near the entrance, emerging a few minutes later with a bag containing a package of condoms, some gum, and a touristy-looking baseball cap.

“I’m sure the clerk has no clue what we’re about to get up to,” you deadpan.

Frankie grunts and swats your ass. You yelp and hiss at him, but he just grins and unceremoniously shuffles you toward the elevator. The doors shut, and he doesn’t hesitate to crowd you, eyes never leaving yours, the tension palpable as his gaze sweeps over you like a caress. The other passengers either don’t notice or don’t care, and the anticipation builds even more as you disembark and head to your suite.

“Can you just – let me – Frankie,” you whimper, keycard bumping up against the lock for the umpteenth time.

“What?” comes his reply, all cheeky, feigned innocence, hands and lips exploring every inch of you he can reach. “Trouble with the door?”

Anticipation wreaking havoc, you groan when he thumbs your nipple through your dress, his actions deft, but doing absolutely nothing to help matters. By the time you manage it, and the light on the lock goes from red to green, you’re writhing and so turned on, it’s almost shameful. When the door shuts again, the do-not-disturb hanger is on the outside, and the security latch is firmly in place.

“Say it,” he insists, tossing the bag onto the bed. “Say that you want this.”

You toss your purse aside and kick off your sandals, “I want this.”

“Because we’ve had a lot to drink,” Frankie continues, fingertips seeking out the rounds of your shoulders and the line of your collarbone. “And I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I crashed into you on the beach, but I gotta – you gotta be sure.”

Tongue heavy and throat tight, you twist your fingers into the skirt of your dress, pulling it up, up, up, until it’s high enough to guide one of Frankie’s wandering hands beneath it. Beyond the fabric of your panties and between your legs – the proof of your want, of your desire, is unmistakable. Frankie inhales sharply at what you encourage him to find and exhales a baritone-deep sound that can’t be mistaken for anything other than approval.

His rough, whiskered cheek against yours. His heavy palm slides up your spine, seeking, until the clip in your hair is removed and sent clattering and bouncing against the tile. A tug to your tresses. A nip to your jaw. Swirling fingertips that breach deep and curl just right. Gaze fixated, expression ravenous in the ambient glow of the pool light, Frankie’s the epitome of a quick study – learning you like a flight plan, mapping out the quickest route to what will make you take off and fly for him.

Knees trembling and calves burning, you’re being coaxed toward a precipice, and it feels so good that it’s overwhelming. Spine-bowing pleasure rushes forward, impossibly fast, and with a pointed strum to your clit, you’re lost to it. The muscle of his forearm flexes as he guides you through a heady surge of bliss, and while you fall apart, Frankie watches you – lower lip tugged between his teeth, head slowly nodding as if he agrees with your complete and utter surrender to your climax.

“More of this?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly rumble against your hairline. “Or do you want me?”

Quicker than lightning, the word ‘you’ slips out from between your lips, and your answer, filled with unmistakable, unreserved eagerness, prompts the reappearance of his smile. Only this time, it’s all cat-got-the-canary as he eases his hand out from between your legs and unflinchingly slips the pleasure-soaked digits past his lips. Lashes fluttering, his expression becomes reminiscent of how he looked at dinner, all appreciative, as if the flavor of you is just as satiating.

“You taste good, gatita,” he murmurs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” you breathe shakily.

Hands trembling, you reach for his shirt, and he allows you to help him out of it. This time, he guides your touch, prompting you to splay your fingers across the expanse of his chest and down his stomach. Eyes hooded, he watches you slip his belt open, pop the button beneath his naval, and ease the zipper down. The shorts fall away easily, and a careful tug at the waistband of his boxers is all it takes to see him free from the confines.

Reaching for him, taking the heft of him in hand, you find him hot and hard for you. You grasp. Squeeze. Experiment until he starts to kick in your palm, letting you know with each groan, with each involuntary thrust of his hips, that you’re doing it right. Tip leaking furiously, precum easing the way, you cup and fondle his heavy sac until he’s cursing against the seam of your mouth.

“You’re gonna,” he huffs, voice muffled around your tongue. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Want me to stop?” you wonder.

You nip his chin. Twist your wrist. Frankie’s brow draws tight, face warring with conflicting desires, but eventually, he pulls himself back from that ledge. The straps of your dress and your panties suffer for it, though, as he practically tears at them to get at you. A tangle of limbs and laughter, the two of you fall onto the messy bed, the bag with the condoms snagged just before it can be crushed beneath your combined weight.

Hat and gum discarded. The condom box torn open. The package crinkles, and then, it’s tossed aside. You offer to help, but Frankie insists on doing it himself, and the strained edge in his voice lets you know that his control is hanging by a precarious thread, and it’s all because of you.

“Still with me?” he checks, thumbs rubbing your kneecaps.

You nod and squeeze his wrist, “Yes.”

A deep, languid kiss, and then, you’re guiding him to you. Body sensitive, nerves alight, you tilt your hips up in anticipation. And Frankie’s careful – so, so careful – forehead pressed to yours, all wide-eyed, as if he’s anticipating – practically expecting – the exact opposite of the welcoming sound you make when he eases forward and begins to rock his hips.

“More,” you plead, voice needy – even to your own ears.

The request soon becomes a demand, one he doesn’t give in to until you promise him you can take it – that you can take all of him. Only then does Frankie roll you onto your stomach. In a display of strength and prowess, he gets you up on your hands and knees, and guides you back onto him with a thrust-and-roll that has you keening.

“Good?” Frankie pants against the hinge of your jaw.

“Yes,” you insist, the warmth of your impending orgasm spreading through your body and loosening your tongue. “Want you to fuck me, Frankie.”

“Greedy,” he grits out sharply. “Codicioso, pequeño gatito…”

It’s impossible to answer with your chin grasped hard in his hand and your neck craned to the side. Frankie’s kiss is sloppy, all carnality, and absolutely no finesse – still, it takes your breath away and makes you feel desired. There’s an edge to his touch, now; a bite in the way his fingertips pinch at your nipple, sending a zing of pleasure directly to your core. Caresses turn into gropes and heavy-handed squeezes until he’s pressing your spine into an impossibly deep arch that forces you to take him just a little bit deeper, the tip of him bumping, bumping, bumping the parts of you that make your bones rattle.

“Want you to come,” Frankie grits out, voice a breathless, strained thing as his teeth dig into the round of your shoulder. “Come for me again.”

You’re already there, but you can’t formulate the words because it happens slowly, and then, all at once. He seeks out your clit, drawing circles with the pressure and ruthless precision of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. You hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears, and then, it’s a free fall. You’re soaring, high above the clouds, euphoric beyond all comprehension. And he’s right there with you – pulling you back and up against his chest, arms banding around your waist as he grinds into you, prolonging your release and taking pleasure in his own.

A careful parting, followed by twin sighs of satisfaction. Frankie makes quick work of the condom, and then, you’re back in his arms. He’s soft again, sleepy eyes finding yours in the dark, fingertips lazing over your brow, your cheeks, your lips. He lingers and you bask in it, but you know what this is.

This is the goodbye.

And a twinge of something – not pain, not regret, but something – fills your chest and makes your eyes sting. Your lower lip wobbles and it’s stupid. Stupid enough to prompt you to roll onto your back to put a bit of distance between yourself and this beautiful, beautiful man stretched out next to you. You stare up at the ornate ceiling fan and cough lightly in a vain attempt to clear the tightness in your throat.

“Two hours and thirty-five minutes,” he says.

You furrow your brow, “What?”

“A flight from Illinois to Florida,” Frankie explains. “Assuming average speed accounting for eastward headwinds… Yeah, two hours and thirty-five minutes.”

You take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Frankie’s pinky finds yours amongst the sheets, and you turn onto your side to face him. There’s something between you. An attraction, to be sure, but now, an unexpected, mutual desire to see each other again. To not let this moment be the last moment. Even if it doesn’t make any sense, even if it’s crazy, even if you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and neither one of you knows where it’ll lead…

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” you tell him. “What’s it like?”

“Amazing. Loud. Windy,” he replies, lips twitching. “You might need your bonnet.”

You smile. And Frankie smiles back.

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fic #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

109 notes · View notes

whimsicalpolitical · 4 months ago

Text

Ross MacDonald x Reader

feral for him oh my lord- 18+ mdni

You’re just waiting for Ross on the couch, all dressed up for the little get together with some friends. In your hands a glass of water and a mirror, checking if your make up looks good.

“My hair is absolute shit isn’t it?”

You look up at Ross but you’re not fixated on his hair. Your eyes drop to his outfit. Black sweater with pulled up sleeves so his tattoos are visible. Dark blue pants, perfectly fitting his legs.

“Love.” He repeats, smiling at your visible attraction. “Does the bun look alright for you?”

“Ehm- of course it does. Looks good babe, really good.”

Ross chuckles, “not too greasy then?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling too hot. Your eyes drop to his arms once again. Following his veins to his fingers.

“Everything alright with you? Haven’t listened properly to one word I’ve said.”

A bit embarrassed you look into his eyes giving him an apologetic look. “Sorry. Everything’s perfect, you just look, uh, really handsome.”

“Ah come on now, not as gorgeous as you.”

Ross moves towards you, taking the glass from your hands.

“You do look absolutely gorgeous” his thumb lifts your chin, “so glad you’re mine.”

“Ross-“ you blush, standing up and burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your arms go around his body and he reacts immediately, stroking your back.

You only do that when you’re absolutely turned on and when you can’t tell him, Ross understands, of course.

Your cheeks flush. His skin is warm, and you breathe in his scent, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him.

Ross chuckles, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "What's this, then? Are you feeling shy now?"

Your heart is pounding. You feel his arms encircle you, pulling you closer. His fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

"We're going to be late," he teases, but there was a tenderness in his tone.

“Not doin’ anything,” you mumble, “just wanna hug you.”

“Mhm,” he doesn’t sound too convinced and you already know he read you like a book. “Let’s go then.”

“One more minute.” You hug him even tighter, walking back to the couch, “c’mon Ross.”

Ross sighs, a mix of amusement and surrender. "Alright, but just a minute," he says, though his hands betray him as they tighten around your waist.

Your lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes everything else fade away. Your shyness melts under his touch, replaced by a deep, aching need. Ross pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your lips.

“Baby, you minx.”

You glance at the clock, then back at Ross. A daring thought crosses your mind, and before you can second-guess yourself, you take his hand and guide him to the couch. He follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.

As you sit down, you pull him with you, positioning yourself onto his lap. His hands find their way to your hips, steadying you as you settle against him. Your lips meet again, this time more urgently, a collision of need and longing. His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can't get enough.

You run your hands through his hair, messing up the carefully styled bun he had been so concerned about. He doesn't seem to mind, groaning softly into your mouth as your nails graze his scalp. The heat between you is almost unbearable, a fire that refuses to be quenched.

He stops kissing you and you try to chase his lips but he almost runs away from them.

“What turned you on, love? Need to tell me or else we’re going to leave.”

You groan and throw your head back. “You know, don’t torture me.”

Ross lifts his eyebrows, “I don’t know, use your words, love. You’re always chatty, can’t just go all shy on me now.”

You huff, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Ross chuckles and rubs your back soothingly almost pathetic for you. “Do I need to tell you that you don’t ever have to be embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then tell me.”

“Your hands Ross, your veins, your tattoos. You just look so fucking hot, s’pecially in this sweater.”

“Look at me,” he says, gripping your hair so lightly that you don’t even feel anything, nevertheless you pull your head back to show him your flushed cheeks. “What do you want to do with my hands?”

"I... I just..." you stammer, words failing you as your mind races.

Ross laughs softly, the sound deep and affectionate. He releases your hair, his fingers trailing down to cup your cheek. "Alright, love," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "I'll have mercy this time."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, relief washing over you. Ross's thumb strokes your cheek gently, and you lean into his touch, your heart still racing.

"But you owe me," he adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Later."

You nod, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Later," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now come here.”

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn't take much else to get you to grind your hips down onto his bulge and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his tingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

“Lay down,” he says, gripping your hips to pull you down, “I’ll give you what you want.”

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of white panties underneath.

Ross sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the couch.

"Let’s make you feel good." he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"What did you say?" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson.

"Look at my hands, alright. It’s what you wanted, now don’t close your eyes or throw your head back or shit. Keep your eyes on me.” he continues.

"Because later you will sit at the table and look at my hands and all you’re going to think of is this moment.”

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"Ross, fuck.”

"There you go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the couch, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. How much you love my hands."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Ross" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I got you, love, don’t beg" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest.

"I always give you what you want, no?” He asks rhetorically, “or else I wouldn’t finger you even though we should be on the road already.”

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Ross, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, darling, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

“No, love, what did I say. Open your eyes or I’ll stop.”

"Sorry, but please," you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together but you know better than to look away.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb.

"Just let it happen, love. I can feel it, just let go" Ross says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

Your orgasm washes over you and you grip his shoulder, Ross still rubbing your clit through the wave of your high.

“Hm good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to pull you into a long kiss, his fingers still inside of you, “sweet girl.”

“Ross-“ you whine, the overstimulation slightly making you tremble. You breathe out when he pulls out, his fingers coming up to your mouth.

“Clean ‘em up,” he says, watching as you party your lips and take them into your mouth groaning at the taste of you.

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, “taste so good.”

When you’re done he pulls his fingers out of your mouth only to kiss you again, to try to taste yourself on your tongue.

“Feel better now?” He asks pulling away and sitting up.

You nod, “thank you.”

Ross shakes his head as he pulls your panties on, then your jeans. “I love doing that.”

When your pants are on he kisses your thighs over the fabric and stands up.

“We should go now though,” he smiles, “come on, missus.”

He holds out his hand and you gladly take it, feeling the bliss all over you still.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fic #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald blurb

54 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 2 years ago

Text

Title: One Night {One-Shot}****

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUT, 18+ Content, Filth, Mild Dom Behavior/Antics, Oral: Female & Male Receiving, Backdoor Play, Bondage, Very Mild Degradation,

Words: 13k 😳🥴 (My bad)

Summary: After attending yours and Lewis’ mutual friends' engagement party, he takes you home.

Note: Looks like I’m still going through this Lewis tunnel. Here’s another one for your guys. I hope you enjoy it!

Note II: This one has some content in it that may not suite everyone’s taste. I felt like pressing some boundaries and said why the hell not. If it’s not your cup of tea, that’s okay, scroll on by. READ THE WARNINGS.

***YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO ABSORBE. NOT ME!***

As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Images NOT my own courtesy of Pinterest***

~~~~~~~

Screams erupted all around you and even in your overly inebriated state your body perked up just like all your friends’. From the beat drop they were on their feet climbing onto the furniture in the club waving their hands through the air.

“Your days of singing this are over,” Mason shouted to Camina, one of your friends and his fiancée.

She rolled her eyes but still kept dancing as if he hadn’t muttered a word.

“He’s right. You feelin’ him heavy,” you added.

“You know what else heavy? That rock on her finger.”

Camina must have been tired of hearing it because when the lyrics started, she was the loudest one, “You thought I was feelin’ you, nah!”

You threw your head back and laughed. They loved to go back and forth like this and tease one another. You knew they’d have a happy marriage. As everyone around you lost their minds to “Munch” you joined in rapping along like it was your track and not Ice Spice’s. When your foot slipped off the stool you knew this was how you died but instead of a collision with the floor or the edge of a table cracking your spine in two, strong arms wrapped you tight then lifted you.

You recognized the scent before you saw their face. Lewis.

“Come on, Y/N. This really how you want to die?”

You smiled up at him, pinching your tongue between your teeth.

“Me die? How when my guardian angel always has my back?”

You caught his jaw in your hands and squeezed sending his lips pouting out.

“Shots!”

Your eyes widened hearing Tamara announce a new round.

“Shots,” you squealed as you tried to get free from Lewis’ arms.

He didn’t let you go though he kept you snug in what you now realized was his lap.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

You pouted and within seconds your eyes watered. “No, please. Lewis.”

“Those fake tears won’t work on me. It’s creepy how you can just cry on demand.”

You didn’t reply, you just stared into his eyes with your signature “lil’ baby” eyes. Puss in Boots could never, you had this on lock. Slowly but surely, you watched Lewis’ composure crumble and like everyone else who’d ever been prey to the eyes, he caved.

“Fuck! fine.”

You smiled, rolled your eyes to the back of your head and rapidly blinked a few times. When you looked back at him your eyes were tear free. He looked utterly disgusted with you.

“Creepy,” he repeated.

You climbed off his lap and straitened your dress. “You say creepy I say talented.”

As you took a few steps away from him you looked back at him over your shoulder, “I’m a baddie I get what I want,” you said then winked before dipping into the middle of the circle comprised of all your female friends. He was probably right; you probably had reached your limit for the night, but you didn’t see the harm in one or three more shots.

One or three more shots turned to six and the next thing you knew you were sitting in the passenger side of Lewis’ fancy car that was barely street legal. The lights of the city zipped by the window creating nothing but a trail of light as if you were traveling at warp speed. It was beautiful. Every few seconds you heard the gears change as he maneuvered the stick shift between your seats and that sound was what brought your eyes over to him.

He sat in the driver’s seat so comfortably as if that was the place be belonged. Hell, it definitely was. He’d found his knack early in life and had made an empire off it. All he’d accomplished thus far was nothing short of incredible. He was a legend, and he deserved every bit of praise he received. Again, Lewis shifted the stick and heavy click, click it made sent a smile across your face. You stared at his hands noting every vein that had made an appearance as he clutched the rounded top. His hands always looked so strong and when you thought about it, you guessed they had to be.

You slowly moved your eyes along his forearm up to where his long sleep shirt was now rolled up. When you made it to his eyes, you found them on you. His mouth was moving but you didn’t hear any words. You shook your head as if to clear the fog in your brain and focused.

“Told you you’d had enough. Now you’re fucked up.”

“I am not fucked up. I am just slightly—inebriated.”

The look Lewis gave you made you snort.

“You’re so fucked up.”

The track that came on had you cranking it all the way up. He didn’t bother objecting instead he sang along with you.

“We gon’ fuck up the night!”

As he changed lanes and got into the zone you both sang and danced as if neither of you had a care in the world. It was perfect and one of the things you loved about hanging out with him. It was always a good time. It didn’t matter what you were doing.

By the time you got to your loft, you were even higher than when you’d left the club. That’s how it always was around Lewis. You fed off his energy and vibe and it was the same with him. When Lewis placed you on the long couch in your living room you moaned and snuggled deeper into the suede material.

~~~~~

-Lewis-

“No, don’t get comfortable, let’s get you to bed first.”

“Nooooo,” you whined in protest. “Here good.”

He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew how you got when you were drunk. He was in for one hell of a time trying to get you to cooperate. “Come on Y/N don’t be a brat right now. It’s been a long night.”

“No. Here. Good.”

Sighing again, he decided what the hell and began unbuckling your heels.

“Why is it that I’m the one that is always roped into being your babysitter when you get shit faced?”

You giggled, “Because you’re such a big softie.”

You reached your hand out to cup his jaw again. “Yes, you are Mr. Softie, yes,” you baby talked.

You were adorable when you were like this which made it hard to get mad.

“I’m sorry. I always do this around you and I know it’s annoying, but I only feel comfortable enough with you to do this. I know I’m safe, I know you won’t let anything happen to me and you’ll respect me. I trust you.”

It felt like someone had just thrust baby fists into his gut. Oof, he thought as he stared over your face. Your eyes were closed as if you were dreaming about saying these things, but he knew you were awake.

“I’m glad you trust me, Y/N. It—it means a lot.”

Your eyes opened to slits and, but your smile was as wide as an open gorge. He couldn’t help but smile back. He wasn’t stupid, blind, or unfazed by you. He knew you were beautiful, knew you had unbelievable curves that were almost unreal to think was a blessing from the almighty, knew you had an amazing brain and a kind heart. He knew you were a beautiful and sexy woman, there was no denying that. He also knew he went out of his way to ignore all of it. Neither of you ever bullshitted the other and there were no falsities between you. He knew who you were and knew what you were incapable of. You liked your freedom as much as he liked his.

Suddenly you rolled off the couch onto the floor then sprang up in a disorganized stumble.

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Your eyes were still closed as you nodded. He watched you reach for the sleeves of your dress that were draped off of your shoulders.

“Wha--.”

When he saw you trying to pull your arm free his mind stumbled. “Uh—Y/N?”

“Mmm?”

Seeing that wasn’t going to work, you bent and grabbed the hem of your dress and lifted.

“Woah,” he cried lunging for you then wrangling the material from your hands. “What are you doing?”

“It’s hot.”

“Hot? okay, I’ll turn on the air. Sit.”

He set you in the couch then walked to the wall where the central air unit was. It was already set to seventy-two, so he lowered it to sixty-five. When he turned back around you were again trying to peel off the dress.

“No! No. I turned it on. It’ll cool down soon.”

He had to plaster your hands to your sides to prevent you from trying again. Thankfully, the air turned on and within a few moments the living room chilled. Releasing a relieved breath, he slowly let go of your hands as he stood.

“Okay, want me to help you up the stairs to bed?”

You shook your head. “Here good.”

“Right, here good,” he repeated.

As he made a move to leave you grabbed his wrist stopping him in his tracks. When he met your eyes, they were so clear, almost luminescent in the dull light of the living room. He was unexpectedly frozen where he stood unable to move or breathe.

“Stay.”

“Stay?”

You nodded. “Keep me warm, I’m cold.”

You pulled him to you and if he didn’t have quick reflexes, he would have fallen right on top of you. Instead, he braced himself on the back of the couch preventing any contact.

“You just said you were hot. I turned on the air.”

You were now leaned on the back of the couch looking up into his eyes. “I’m cold.”

The angle he was at gave him an overhead view of you. It was a view he’d never seen before. You kept your eyes on his but right now he saw nothing in them. It was like you were looking through him or seeing something that was deep beneath his surface. Before his brain could go any further down this rabbit hole of thought, he pushed off the couch and stalked to the thermostat. You whined the entire time, but he ignored you and turned it to seventy-five.

“There, seventy-five. You’ll warm up soon.”

He walked back to the couch and took up one of the throw blankets there and draped it around your shoulder. He stooped in front of you and rubbed your arms hoping the friction warmed you soon. When you hummed softly, he knew it was working.

“I’m thirsty. Can I have water?”

After an exhale he nodded. You were trying his last nerve. It was always like this. Once he was in the kitchen, he pulled a bottle of water out and brought it back to you with the cap off. After a few gulps you sighed.

“Can I have the pain meds in the bathroom cabinet?”

“Yep.”

Knowing the way, he trudged through your unconventional loft to the bathroom on the first floor. He slowly rifled through the pills there noting how many new types of sleep aids he saw. You’d always had problems sleeping. Sometimes he’d even have to stay on the phone with you talking until you fell asleep. If that didn’t work and he was in town he’d have you come over to his place where you stayed up all night playing video games or watching movies. He made a mental note to talk to you about it another day.

When his hand found the bottle, his eyes found something else entirely. He stood there for a few seconds as he allowed his thoughts to wander. When he was capable of moving again, he reached for the gold and purple device. Taking it in hand, he pressed the button, and the buzz brought it to life.

“Jesus.”

He should have put it back right then, but he pressed it a few more times wanting to see how much power it had and after five presses he was impressed. Before he could wonder what setting you preferred, he put it back where he found it and walked back out to you. He found you right where he left you.

“Y/N, you do know that anyone who uses someone else’s bathroom always snoops through the medicine cabinet, right?”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Anyone can see that thing and anyone with half a brain will know what it is.”

You snorted. “I don’t give a shit if anyone knows I use a vibrator. Hell, I have one stashed in just about every room in here. Never know when the urge will come and you gotta have a quick solution.”

He cotched on the arm of the leather armchair diagonal from you and shook his head. As he watched you down the pills and water, he peeped some of it cascade down the front of your dress, drenching it. You sprang up gasping.

“Fuck!”

“It’s okay. It’s just water,” he appeased.

“Cold.”

Hearing that word, he leapt up. “I’ll get you something dry.”

Without thinking, he beelined to the bathroom again and grabbed the robe behind the door. Before he made his way back, he took a beat and a few breaths. He had to get out of here—now. When he turned the corner back to you, there you stood in the path to the front door in your underwear.

“Shit!”

Instinctively his eyes wanted to roam your flesh, but he fought with everything in him to keep his eyes above her nose. If he thought this last season was hard, he would gladly take it again over this situation.

“Don’t be silly Lewis, you can look.

“No. Nope, I can’t.”

“Wow, am I that ugly to you? Is my body so bad that you can’t look at me?”

“What?!”

For a second his eyes dipped lower to your collar, then right back to your eyes. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“I just don’t want to cross a line.”

“You won’t. It’s just like a bikini.”

Another scoff escaped him. He couldn’t believe this. “It’s not. I’m gonna—uh—gonna go.”

With that, he walked in a circle around you being careful to keep his head turned away from you while keeping a wide distance between you both. You didn’t move or make any attempts to stop him, and he was relieved. When he was a few steps to the door he heard the jingling of keys that stopped him in his tracks.

“Forgetting something?”

“God,” he muttered under his breath.

This was not what he needed right now, a drunk, half naked, mischievous and bratty you holding on to his keys. You’d never give them back willingly.

“Toss ‘em,” he said without turning around. He prayed you did what he asked, prayed you made this easy for him.

“Come and get ‘em.”

Dropping his head back, he sighed. He should have known. He’d seen plenty of signs you were probably a baby masochist so it shouldn’t have been out of character for you to enjoy inflicting pain on others. That part of you spoke to that part of him. Balling his fists, he gulped realizing his throat was drier than his exhaust pipe after a race.

Just then he felt something drape over his head and your scent engulfed him. This Burberry was your signature scent. He’d come to associate you with it and whenever he smelled it you came to mind. When he pulled the item off his head, his gut clenched when he realized it was a sky-blue lace bra. The same sky-blue lace bra that he’d seen for the millisecond it took him to register your state of undress. In the same moment the realization hit him of how you stood there now. When he turned it felt like he’d ran face first into a brick wall. You stood there in only your tiny blue lacy underwear that looked closer to string. Fighting his eye muscles and brain, because they were clearly separate entities that had their own wants, he focused them on your face.

“This isn’t a game--.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

His eyes bugged then. “Fun? Y/N, this isn’t funny. You’re drunk.”

“I’m still consenting,” you calmly replied before you took a step toward him.

“You can’t consent, you’re drunk.”

He watched you take yet another step to him and he swore he felt his body being pulled toward you like you and he were AB particles being attracted like magnets.

“How about we leave the determinations of me being drunk up to me?”

You took one more step.

“I—consent.”

You stood there looking him in the eye with not an ounce of fear or hesitation. This was the look of a woman who knew what she was saying. You may have been drunk but you were coherent. His head dropped down to look at the floor. It was the only safe place to look. Just as he was beginning to ask himself where any of this was coming from, you lifted your foot for another step.

“Stop!”

Now he was looking right at you and damn it his peripheral was took seconds too long to blur out your nakedness. you smirked.

“Now that I have your full attention--.”

You spun in a slow circle giving him a full view and boy did his eyes view. They took it all in. Fuck you were indescribably gorgeous. Every single inch of you was made to tease. The curve of your hips made his palms itch to grasp them. The hardened points of your nipples had his mouth watering. Tightening his fists, he swallowed and raised his eyes back to yours.

You cocked your head to the side and frowned ever so slightly, “Still nothing. Huh. Okay.”

You then hooked your thumbs into the waists of the string you wore and pulled them off.

“Holy fuck,” he exclaimed as he snapped his head to the side.

Seconds later, the garment slid to his feet and like the action of a machete hacking into the husk of a coconut to open it, his self-restraint took a major blow. He could feel the heaviness between his legs increasing with each passing moment.

“Wh—what—why--,” he stuttered out unable to speak or think up a sentence.

“I’m horny.”

He knew his eyes were wider now. “You’re horny?”

“And you’re here,” you finished.

He could have laughed. You’d always been blunt and often liked to cut straight to the point. He loved that about you. No one had to guess or assume where they stood with you or what you were thinking at any given time. You freely let your thoughts and opinions out not caring how you were perceived. He respected that and it made you hella sexy.

After a sigh, he spoke, “Y/N, it’s not a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine. One night. One night where I do every nasty, filthy, kinky, slutty, thing you can think of to you and you do every single thing you want, doesn’t matter what to me. One night of no thoughts, no inhibitions, no shoulds, or shouldn’ts. Nothing but pure fucking and screaming.

As he slowly registered your words while trying to not look over your naked body, he found it difficult to think. his body was rapidly reacting to your words.

“And after?”

“We move on.”

You must have seen his brow arch. Your soft laughter filled the foyer. “Look, I’m under no delusions when it comes to you Lew. I see you and you see me. Neither of us have ever had to hide with one another.”

You began your steps toward him again.

“Take one more step and I can’t be held accountable for what happens next,” he warned, making sure every bit of seriousness came through in his voice. He could hear the strain of the words and knew you heard it too. You knew just how tightly wound he was right now. The wide smile on your face said it all.

“Promise?”

Long moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other. No more words were needed. It was either going down or not. You rested your hands on your hips poking one out accentuating those deadly curves and he lost the battle with his brain. His eyes slowly roamed your body taking in every single detail and inch. When his eyes stopped at the trove at the apex of your thighs his tongue snaked out to wet his lips. It was going down.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

In seconds, both of you closed the space between you colliding your bodies and smashing your lips against each other’s. As soon as your nakedness brushed against the rough material of his clothing you groaned. Lewis’s moan evaporated on your lips as his tongue swirled with yours in a way that took your breath right from your lungs. Holy hell, the man could really kiss. The hunger rolling off of him matched yours and soon the foyer was filled with both of your eager moans.

The warmth of Lewis’ hand on at your spine made you press more firmly against him, but you were met with more rough material. Groaning, you peeled off his leather jacket and allowed it to drop to the floor. Wasting no time, you moved to his button-down shirt and rapidly made your way through the buttons. Just when you thought you’d made it to skin you groaned finding a men’s undershirt.

“Fuck, so many layers!”

Lewis snorted, pulled away and peeled the shirt over his head. The move was quick and smooth and a few moments later he’d captured your lips once again. He backed you to the nearest wall and pressed your back against it making you feel the definition of his chest and abs.

“Mmmmm!”

He tore his lips from yours and trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck. The goosebumps that littered your skin only intensified the desire you felt for him. This was new considering you’d never done anything like this throughout your entire friendship, but it felt like the easiest thing in the world. Your brain didn’t hesitate, neither did your body.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewled once you felt Lewis’ lips latch onto your weak spot.

No other words followed because the nip of his teeth sent sparks through you and directly to your sex. You grabbed at his waist and pulled him closer needing to feel more of him. Understanding what you needed, Lewis reached around you and grabbed onto your ass, squeezing while he pulled your flush against his hardening member. You whine, giving him the opening to press his lips to yours again.

This kiss was more heated, than the last. This one spoke of urgency, desperation, excitement, need and ruin. Lewis flicked his tongue against yours fighting with it coaxing you to play and play you did. The carnal sounds that filled the room fueled you both. Feeling the heavy and racing thuds of his heart beating against your bodice, it blended with yours and now your hearts were pounding as one. Your need was his, his desperation was yours and the burning need you felt was one he also felt.

It was so easy to get lost in the taste of his lips, of his mouth, his breath, so easy to stay here pressed on the wall with his hand squeezing your ass like it were a stress ball, but you needed too much. You bit his bottom lip hard but not hard enough to break skin. He groaned and thrusted his hips forward, spearing you and giving you a taste of what was in store for you.

“You feel incredible,” Lewis mumbled.

“Me?”

Your hand dropped to the front of his pants and rubbed. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and you couldn’t wait to see. Lewis dropped his head back and you watched his jaw slack as he released a breathy sigh. Smirking, you leaned to his ear then licked along his neck.

“The things I wanna do to you.”

“Tell me.”

“I wanna put my lips all over you, use my tongue to write my name, taste every single inch of—,” you paused and gripped him, “You.”

Lewis growled and in the blink of an eye he’d hoisted you into his arms and took off for the steps leading to your bedroom. With your legs wrapped around his waist you teased his neck and ear testing if they were as sensitive to touch as yours were. Every few steps, Lewis stopped moving seemingly getting lost in your touch and not trusting himself to maneuver movement and immersion at once. Once you made it to your door, he pressed you against the wall beside it sending his clothed arousal against your moistening cove.

Lewis grabbed your hands that were entangled at the nape of his neck then pressed them flat against the wall before he latched onto your neck again. As he teased you, whimper after whimper left you. Then when his lips found your breast. You fought against him needing to grip onto something. However, Lewis wasn’t having it. He laced his fingers with yours and kept them firmly against the wall.

His tongue flicked across your nipple, waking up the bundle of nerves making it harden within seconds. You realized then that he controlled your hands, but you still had some control. Bucking your hips, you rubbed your sex against him using his material covered bulge to find some relief. Lewis groaned then ground his hips into you, giving you what you needed tenfold and sending you over the edge. You squeezed your legs tighter around him as you allowed the waves of pleasure to gently ebb you to a mini orgasm. This release didn’t relieve anything, it only made things worse.

You could feel Lewis smiling against your breast and you knew then he’d done it on purpose.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet that pussy is for me through my pants,” he teased.

“Mmm, you should feel how wet it is for you.”

Your eyes met and the devilish smirk he gave you said it all. He planned on wearing you the fuck out. Lewis pushed your bedroom door open and walked inside as you kissed him. Before you could get carried away, he tossed you onto your bed. After a few bounces you looked to him and took in the sight of him standing at the foot of your bed in just his pants. The waistband of his boxer-briefs was peeking through making the sight of his defined abs that more enticing.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you tried to quell the urge to rush him and strip him bare.

“You have on too much clothes.”

Lewis’ eyes roamed over your body again and you decided to tease the fuck out of him. Laying back against your silk sheets, you spread your legs wide to show him the prize of the night. His groan echoed in the room. You peeked at him and saw you had his undivided attention. His eyes were glued to your sex as he rubbed his bearded chin.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Slinking your hand lower, you used it to shield yourself from his view. The corner of his lips curled up almost as if he were snarling at you for the move. Oh, he was so easy to fuck with and you loved it.

“Plan on getting as naked as me? Or do you need some help?”

You watched him drop his hands to his pants and kept watching as he languidly unbuttoned them. Your patience was wearing thin by the time he’d unzipped. He knew how eager you were, and he was showing you that you weren’t the only one that could tease. When he finally pulled his pants down, he kept his underwear right where they were. After kicking them off, he fisted himself.

Unable to stop yourself you swirled the tips of your fingers against your clit and immediately regretted it. You needed much more than this. You easily got lost in the pleasure you brought yourself and when you brought your attention back to Lewis, you found him stroking himself. In your haze you hadn’t realized he’d discarded his underwear and was now before you in all his glory.

Your fingers stilled as you took him in. He was beautiful and hung beyond belief. Your mouth watered with anticipation. Pulling your hand back you watched his eyes follow your hand and when you looked at it you saw why. Your wetness coated your fingers making them glisten. Lewis closed his mouth over your fingers and sucked them clean moaning the entire time.

When Lewis pulled back you zeroed in on your prize.

“Mmm, a meal.”

You slid yourself so it was your head that was facing him. But before you could crawl to him Lewis reached over and grabbed your ankle.

“Not a chance.”

He pulled you, spinning you right back around onto your back then lower on the bed. Your legs were spread before him again only this time he was much closer.

“I get the first taste of the night.”

He hovered over you sending the chain he wore dangling above you. When he dopped down to kiss your lips, it was a slow, teasing one that set to the tone for what you knew was to come. Lewis kissed a trail down your body, taking his time to lick, suck and nibble your nipples. When he got to your stomach, his teeth grazed your flesh riding the fine line of pleasure and pain.

“You like a little pain with your pleasure, don’t you princess.”

It wasn’t a question. He spoke as if he knew. When you didn’t answer he bit harder right at your pelvis. The move sent your hips jerking up and your head angling back.

“Princess?”

His eyes met yours and you nodded obediently. He kissed the spot he’d bitten then trailed his large hands down your thighs and legs until he’d lifted them to hook over his broad shoulders. Looking down at him in this position you arched up onto your elbows and realized you’d had it wrong before. This was how you were going to die. The man looked like he was meant to be kneeling between your thighs. As soon as the thought sparked, Lewis dipped down and placed a perfect kiss against your clit.

The sound that came from you was closer to an inward breathy shriek than a gasp.

“Mmm, I love how you react to me.” He placed another kiss this time increasing the suction of his lips. “I love the sounds that my touch brings out.” When he went to kiss a third time you found your clit being sucked into his mouth as he sent you to the moon.

You clamped your thighs around his head, arched your back and allowed the bliss to take you. Lewis didn’t stop sucking though, he continued making every second that much more intense. When you finally came back to Earth, you took a deep gulp of air and loosened the grip your thighs had him in.

“Mmm. That’ll be the only free orgasm you have tonight. You want more, you better earn them.”

Your belly fluttered at the thought. Before you could speak, Lewis went to town licking, and swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. Every time you thought you’d die from overstimulation; he backed off and paid his attention to another part of your pussy. Going between flicking butterfly lite licks against your clit, sucking your flesh and dipping his tongue into your heat you were seeing stars and well on your way to another release.

“You taste like every decadent dessert I’ve ever had.”

As if to prove his point he slurped your flesh sending vibrations across your sex and muddling your brain in the same breath.

“Mm, delicious!”

“Are you?”

Lewis cocked his head to the side, gave you the eye and smirked. “Are you up to sampling?”

Unable to stop yourself, you licked your lips and nodded. He brought himself to a standing position at the end of the bed and stroked himself slowly. He was even harder than before. Slowly, you slinked toward him never taking your eyes off the prize. Truth be told you were slightly intimidated by the size of him. Not only was he lengthy, he was also girthy in a way that said you’d feel the ache of him for days to come. Anticipation rattled through your core, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to go slow and tease him.

Lewis stood there proud with his hands at his side while his brilliant cock bobbed waiting for you. You tipped your tongue out and swirled it around the bulbous tip moaning when his taste seeped into your taste buds.

“Mmm, cocoa, vanilla and—coconut. Mmmm.”

You closed your mouth around him and lowered yourself until you felt him fill your throat. From the looks of things, you still had two or three more inches to go. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel him for days to come. You moaned around him and slowly shook your head nestling him tightly.

“Fuuuuck!”

His hands rested at the top of your head, but he didn’t do anything else. You remined still wanting to see how long it would take him. After only ten or so seconds his fingers flexed on your skull.

“Come on princess. It won’t suck itself.”

Pulling back, you slurped your way off his cock until you kissed the tip.

“Mmm.”

Locking eyes with him you lowered your mouth again but this time you took the remaining inches and gulped forcing your throat to relax. Lewis grunted then thrust forward sending the tip of your nose to his pubic bone.

“Oh god!”

That one motion set him off. He slowly withdrew from your mouth then thrust back in. Each time he did it he picked up his pace. Within moments he was steadily fucking your mouth and grunting the entire time.

“This fucking mouth.”

You moaned as he used your mouth and gave him everything in return. He withdrew you clamped your lips around his cock making retreat near impossible. Every time you did it his grip tightened, and his hips staggered. When he pushed forward you opened your throat and moved your tongue like a wave, so he felt the sensations along each inch. Your name fell from his lips over and over and within a few short minutes, your chin was covered with spit and pre-cum. There was no point in trying to be cute. That’s not what tonight was for.

You pulled him from your mouth with a pop then beat your tongue with his length.

“Mmm. You like this cock, don’t you?”

You nodded before you sucked him back in and used your hands to pump his flesh as your mouth worked magic. You didn’t know what to imagine when thinking if he were a quiet fuck or a loud one, but you were happy to know he was the furthest thing from quiet. You were so turned on you couldn’t help but touch yourself. What you found should have been alarming. You were beyond wet; the slickness was now dripping down your inner thigh showcasing just how open he had you.

Lewis grabbed your hand then held it up in front of him. “That greedy little pussy is screaming for attention huh. It’s begging to be fucked, right?”

“Yes.”

“You want this cock, Y/N? Does my dirty, nasty princess want this cock?”

Lewis gripped the base of his cock and tapped it against your cheek.

“Fuck yes!��

“Go lie down at the headboard.”

Your body thrummed with anxious energy hearing how comfortable he was ordering you around. You’d always sensed dom energy coming from him and it always had your mind running wild. Here and now, you were seeing those dom reflexes shine through. Once you were laid against the headboard, you watched as Lewis walked around your bed to the table beside it. He opened the bottom drawer and your breath caught. How’d he know which drawer to look?

“Wow. What a collection,” he said as his eyes roamed over the toys you had there.

There was a toy for every mood you found yourself in. Stimulation, penetration, teasing, or a challenge.

“What mood are you in tonight, princess?”

“The I want you and not a toy mood.”

His smirk was cute.

“I recall someone said any and everything I wanted to do to you, no matter what.”

You smiled.

“And right now, you want to inspect my toys.”

“Right now, I want to choose the right one to watch as it drives you mad with you being unable to cum.”

Your smile fell. He wouldn’t, you thought. Lewis picked the small and sleek pink vibrator and tested its settings. You knew just how powerful it was. You’d choose it on nights you didn’t have the patience to tease or prolong your pleasure, it was for when you needed to blast off fast. The look on Lewis’ face as he looked between you, and it said you’d given something away on your face.

“Looks like we have a winner.”

He closed the drawer and walked back around then climbed into the bed. As he stalked toward you, you truly felt like prey and again your belly fluttered with anticipation. The device buzzed to life on the lowest setting just as he circled it around your breast, slowly closing in to small circled until he was going around your nipple. It felt like a vibrating feather against your flesh, soft and tingly.

As he moved to your other breast, he increased the setting. Your back arched slightly when he pressed the tip directly onto your nipple and his eyes were there drinking in your every reaction.

“Mmm, I love your body, Y/N. You’re perfect.”

He brought the toy down the center of your body in such a slow and teasing manner that your back arched off the bed and your fists balled the sheets. Biting your bottom lip, you watched as he brought it lower and lower until he rested it right atop your pubis, but he didn’t move after that. A frustrated huff came from your mouth and his smile said it was the desired reaction.

“Something wrong princess?”

“Yes, you’re a tease,” you whined.

Lewis’s soft chuckle filled the room. “I thought that would be a good thing.”

“Good thing my ass.”

“Don’t you worry about that sinful ass; it’ll get what’s coming to it.”

Because of the flare of arousal that filled your gut you lost control of your body for a moment and that moment sent your hips jutting up brushing your pussy against his chin.

“Oh you can’t wait for it huh. God, you’re a dream.”

Lewis slid his tongue along your seam from opening to clip then kissed it.

“Lewis,” you whined.

All right princess.”

With that, he brought the toy to trace the outline of your lips a few times until you were a gasping mess. Every time you thought he’d just be easy and give you what you wanted, he passed the desired location and continued his teasing. You were so on edge you knew that once you got what you wanted that you’d cum. Maybe that’s what he wanted. After a few more laps around your pussy, Lewis finally placed the vibrator against your clit and the unexpectedness of it all nearly sent you into the ceiling.

“Ahh!”

In seconds, you felt your orgasm creeping up but just when you were about to claim it, Lewis pulled the toy away.

“Lewis!”

“I told you; you want more, you better earn ‘em.”

Your groaned then reached down to finish the job yourself only to be met with a smack to the back of your hand.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.”

“Then own it.”

His smirk was mischievous. “I always knew you were a snarky brat, knew you loved to talk back and challenge. It was cute before, now it’s amusing because you have no idea what’s in store for you the more you do it. I’m the type of man who will be the last to lose control. I guarantee I can hold out longer than you can, princess.”

His voice was like pure unadulterated sex, sex in its most primal form. You wanted him badly but now you wanted to bring him to his knees even more. Angling onto your elbows, you brought your face close to his. Fighting to not get lost in his cognac eyes or the softness you knew of his lips, or his hypnotizing scent you remained focused.

“Mmmm,” you seductively cajoled while rolling your eyes to the back of your head and biting your bottom lip.

When your eyes landed back on his, you saw him glance down between your bodies. The moment he realized your hand had crept there and was showcasing every inch of your pretty pussy, his Adam’s apple bobbed just before his jaw clenched. He looked like a mesmerized man under a spell that he was unable to break.

“Is she pretty?”

“Bloody beautiful,” he croaked.

“Don’t you want to feel her wrapped around you?”

Again, his jaw clenched and again his throat moved.

“You know I do.”

You circled your finger around your opening then barely dipped the tip in. When you pulled back you brought that finger to his lips and painted them with your wetness. If he hadn’t looked like a predator before, right now he looked more frightful than an African lion in the plains.

“Then stop teasing me and fuck me until I’m hoarse from screaming your name. Fuck me till I can’t wait or sit right for a week. Fuck me like it’s yours.” locking eyes with him you finished, “Fuck me like you hate me!”

Lewis slowly licked his lips cleaning them of your juices and moaned. As he crept closer and closer you could only focus on his face and nothing else. His hands slowly snaked up your legs over your hips, across your torso and over your breasts before fanning out to go down your arms. Before you knew what he was doing he’d brought your arms above your head, pushed you back onto the bed, captured your wrists in one of his hands and pressed the vibrator on full speed right against your clit.

Your body felt as if thirty thousand joules of electricity has been sent into you. You didn’t even realize you were screaming until you felt the burn in your throat. Though you tried to move, you were unable to thanks to Lewis’ thighs keeping yours spread wide. He had you completely at his mercy. Incoherent words and sounds fell from your lips as you torpedoed to your release.

“Look at me.”

As if he were the master and you the genie your eyes locked on his. “I own your orgasm. Without my permission you better not cum.”

An unintelligible croak left you and you writhed trying to free yourself but also prevent yourself from cumming. It was an impossible task, one that you knew you were going to fail. From the looks on Lewis’ face, he also knew you were going to fail. Holding on as long as you could you tried to keep your release at bay. When your body began shaking from the sheer might it took, Lewis smirked as he took the vibrator away.

“Fuck!”

You were feral at this point, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were in a strange state that you hadn’t prepared yourself for. Lewis flipped you onto your stomach and when you felt the bed dip from his weight you crawled away to the headboard while peeping back at him. As if on a leash he followed until he was hovering over your back with his cock resting atop your ass. His lips took yours for a moment then dipped to your shoulder blade before licking a path along your spine. Feeling mischievous, you bounced your ass up and down giving him a mini show of your twerking skills. Lewis hissed and dropped heavy handed slaps across your backside giving his nonverbal seal of approval for every move you made.

As you held onto the headboard you peeped back at him and the look on his face only made you wetter. If you didn’t feel him soon you were going to lose your mind. Lewis must have had the same thought because his eyes met yours and you easily read the question in them.

Could he? Was it okay?

You nodded and seconds later he’d slid the tip of his need into you. Your gasp was sharp and breathy and with every slow inch he fed you it became more of a high-pitched squawk. The tight grip he had on your hips was so near the point of pain it felt good. The slowness of how he filled you was both a blessing and curse. More than anything you wanted him to split you in two, but you also knew that you’d die if he did. It was a battle between present pleasure and future pain.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Lewis pushed out.

His voice was tight and constrained. You could hear the battling he was fighting with his own desire for the ultimate pleasure and not wanting to hurt you.

“More,” you whined.

It was the only word he needed. Lewis then snapped his hips forward sending every single inch of him inside of you. Again, you screamed and clenched around him as you marveled that you’d managed to take it all. Neither of you moved for a few long moments. Both of you were adjusting to this new facet of your relationship, this new realization that you both could have felt this incredible pleasure of your bodies fitting together perfectly a lot sooner. When that sentiment settled for him, you felt him pull out then grab the back of your neck. This was how you died, you thought to yourself.

~~~~~~~

-Lewis-

Snapping his hips forward, using you as leveraged he pummeled into you forcefully. Your entire body shook while your head flung back to go forward. The glorious sound of your scream-whine filled his ears making his eyes flutter closed. Fuck you sounded so good. He’d never been affected by his partner’s sounds of pleasure quite like this before. Yeah it felt good to know he was putting it down and delivering the best dick down they’d had but with you—right now. Knowing that the pleasure you felt came from him did something to him. Knowing that you’d become this unbound sent him closer to the edge than he’d ever been.

He'd almost cum at least a dozen times already and it was by the sheer grace of God that he’d managed to suppress it. It was like all his primal instincts took over with you. The need to dominate you until you submit to him and his desires. the need to pleasure you beyond measure. The need to abandon any and all ways that did not serve for pleasure, enjoyment and pure sin. As he thrust into you again, your colliding bodies clapped together filling the room with the sound he squeezed your hips trying to keep himself in check though the vice grip you had him in tempted him to just be reckless. Goddamn you were tight!

“Yes, yes, yes!”

The more you mewled for him, the more he wanted from you. Releasing your neck, he gripped the headboard where your hands were currently holding it and picked up his speed. He couldn’t believe how easily you’d adjusted to his size and was now drunk off of the way your body begged him to never stop what he was doing. On every retreat you gripped him not allowing him to withdraw more than a few inches. Then on every plunge you squeezed even tighter making him work to touch the very depths of your canal.

“Oh god, right there Lewis. Yes!”

“Does it feel good?”

“So fucking good?”

“Does this pussy want more, princess?”

“Ye—yess!”

With that consent he jackhammered into you getting lost in his own pleasure. You felt unbelievable, unreal even.

“Y/N!”

“Lewis! I’m gonna cum.”

He pulled from your body with a growl then gripped the base of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. Never had he come quick, and you were trying to have it another way.

“Flip over, let me see that creamy pussy.”

You flipped over and spread your thighs showing him what a mess you were.

“Aw, princess, you’re a mess.”

He traced your trove with his cock smearing your shared wetness everywhere creating his own work of art atop the work of art that was you. Once he was coated again, he slapped your clit with his cock making your body jerk.

“Mm.”

“Does princess want this cock?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Yes. I want it.”

“How bad?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

He smiled then circled your opening. You gasped and from the look of you, he could tell you were holding your breath. Rather than going for it, he only slid his tip in losing himself in the way you stretched to accommodate him. Just when he felt you clench, he withdrew. Your frustrated groan echoed around you. You thought he was teasing you but really, he was just torturing himself at this point. He’d already become addicted to the feel of being inside of you, already become addicted to your moans, addicted to your smell, taste, and how your body obeyed every nonverbal command he had. He was practically a slave to you and how you crippled him so quickly. He repeated the action a few times and just when you began whining, he locked ayes with you.

“Oh princess. You’ll never be the same once I’m done with you.”

He impaled you instantly then ground his hips so you could feel every single way you’d made it impossible to have just one night with you. Your moans were loud, and he was convinced those who lived around you knew what was happening and was probably pressed against their windows trying to peep in. He didn’t care. He should have, but he didn’t. Matter of fact, he wanted them to hear you, he wanted them to know that you were being fucked so good that they were jealous cause they’d never even come close to an experience like this.

Your breasts swung in front of him and there was no way he could resists from taking them into his mouth. As he licked, teased, and sucked, you hugged his head to your body digging your fingers into his hair.

“So good, Y/N. So—fucking—good!”

Peeling your hands from his head, he placed them on the headboard and covered them with his. You looked like an offering just for him, an offering he could do with as he pleased, and that thought was sending him. Again, he picked up the forced of how he thrust into you, and it send the headboard clattering against the wall creating your carnal playlist. Your moans and whimpers turned to screeches and loud grunts. He could tell you weren’t holding back anymore and when you put one of your ankles over his shoulder, he nearly lost his shit.

“Fuck yeah!”

Releasing your hands, he hoisted you a few inches into the air adding your other ankle to join the first then ravaged you without thought.

“You take this cock so well princess. It was made to fill your sweet, tight pussy up.”

Your moans blended, shouts competed, bodies rocked and dripped with sweat as both of you took the other to new heights, unfathomable heights.

“I have to cum, can I cum?!”

Reaching down he played with your clit then slipped his thumb just beneath you to the tight puckered flesh there. Your eyes widened but you didn’t stop him or pull away.

“Oh such a nasty girl.”

He’d found his match tonight and it filled him with much more than excitement. As he massaged you, your eyes fluttered closed and the way you clenched him became unbearable.

“Cum for me princess. Cum all over this cock.”

~~~~~

-Y/N-

The stars you saw were not of this galaxy. Hell, they were not of this universe. In this moment you saw the multiverse. You had to have because everything was so much more poignant, so much more astonishing. Your body convulsed, core clenched, toes curled, hands balled and back arched. No one else existed, it was just you and him and both of you were fucking your way through a whole ‘nother galaxy in a whole ‘nother universe seeing things none had seen before. It was such an otherworldly experience, one that you’d seek in every encounter after him for the rest of your life.

Gradually, you came down and you should have felt pure nirvana but instead your body was to the point of combusting. You felt as if you’d never cum at all. You wanted more, so much more. When you were fully back inside your own body, the blaze you felt only made you buck against Lewis who was still thrusting away, fucking your through your release. The feel of being filled in more than one place shocked you. Your words came back to you then.

Any and everything.

You smiled then beckoned him closer. When he was right in front of you, you kissed him, swirling your tongue with his and teasing his lips. As he moaned against you, his thrusts slowed until he was barely rocking into you. Using his distraction, you used all your remaining strength and flipped him to his back in a seamless move. Lewis groaned as he looked up into your face.

“Someone want control?”

“No, someone wants to drive you mad.”

“Oh, don’t worry princess, I’m already there.”

In a tender move, he cupped your jaw then softly slid his thumb across your bottom lip. It would have stolen your breath if you weren’t already teetering on the edge of breathlessness. You rocked your hips his back and forth in a slow wave that had Lewis biting his bottom lip. Lazily you continued not wanting to give him too much and as you continued you watched his every reaction. The way his eyes struggled to focus on one thing. He went from your eyes to your lips then your breasts, your hips and where you were joined most intimately only to do it all again in no pattern at all. It was like he was overstimulated and couldn’t focus, or he was trying to distract himself so he didn’t cum.

At that thought you almost laughed out loud. If he thought you were a terror before, he was going to be very disappointed to find your unruliness hadn’t even reached peak mass. Pressing your palms to his chest you leaned forward and used him as your anchor. Deliberately, you lifted yourself off of him allowing him to slip from your body inch by inch as you kept your eyes on his. With every inch Lewis’ mouth opened wider and wider. When you knew you had him right where you wanted him, you crashed right back down on him.

“Fuck!”

You did it again and again faster and faster until you were bouncing on top of him flicking your ass up and down. Lewis whimpered, moaned and panted out your name over and over as he gripped and slapped your ass. Feeding off his energy you tipped onto your feet and gave him the show of his life. His eyes were now glued to your core watching the way you fit so perfectly together and the longer he watched the more the fire within you blazed.

“Gahdamn Y/N. Uuugh, this pussy.”

He lifted his hips thrusting his cock into you as you dropped down on him.

“Aaah!”

Your entire body tensed as you clenched around him as you claimed yet another release.

“Mmm, you look so beautiful when I make you cum.”

He grunted and got a proper grip of your hips as he pistoned into you. It was your turn to hold on like you were riding a bucking bronco. One look at him told you he was gone and chasing something you’d claimed many times already. After a few minutes you overpowered him and stood over him. Lewis stared at you like you were a goddess, and he was ready to worship you any way you wished. It was an intoxicating thing. Turning your back to him you lowered yourself onto him yet again.

“Aaaah, yessss. Such a greedy pussy. She takes all of me and begs for more.”

“Then give it to her,” you sassed as you slowly flicked your backside up and down riding him. You could only imagine the view he was getting.

“Bloody hell, Y/N!”

You leaned forward then held onto his ankles and completely let go. You followed every innate instinct you had, every whim your body needed. It didn’t take long at all for you to feel the beginning of yet another orgasm. You rotated your ass in a circle as you twerked on him like you were following a beat. It was over then. Lewis let out a growl then you felt him moving underneath you until he was behind you. In seconds, you felt something tie around your writs securing them behind your back. You glanced at him over your shoulder, but you were met with the eyes of a predator.

“Shit,” you panted out.

Lewis ground his hips into you until you were at the brink of tears from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You wanted this right dirty girl?”

Words escaped you, hell they were above you right now. Lewis gripped the back of your neck bringing your back to his chest and his lips at your ear. A deep groan escaped you when you felt him bit it.

“You wanted me to lose control, right? Wanted to drive me mad, wanted to make me use you like a beautiful hole? What was it that you said—,”

Lewis tilted your head backward so your eyes met his. The whole time he continued to burrow deeper and deeper into you making it impossible to breathe. You were so full.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Close. I think it was, fuck me like you hate me was it?”

You should have felt fear. You should have recanted and begged for mercy, should have tried to talk him down but you didn’t feel fear, nor did you do any of those things. Instead, you smiled then tipped your tongue to trace over his lips. Lewis sucked it into his mouth and gave you the most titillating kiss you’d ever had. Just when you were getting into the kiss, Lewis pulled back then snapped his hips forward making you break the kiss to gasp out.

“Face down, ass up!”

Obeying, you dropped down flattening your back and gave him a perfect arch.

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me Y/N.”

You rocked your ass from side to side while you winked at him. Your sassy act came to an abrupt end when Lewis slammed into you again with such force that your entire body went forward. If he wasn’t holding your hips, you probably would have toppled over. Burying your face in the silk sheets you screeched as he did it again and again and again. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath, or wait for you to adjust, he continued giving you every single thing he had, and you took it all as you fell apart.

“L—Le—Lewi—sss!”

“Say it again!”

“Lewis! Yes, fuck!”

“Whose is it?”

“Yours, all yours!”

Just when you thought he would slow down he continued like a prized stallion with superior stamina. Your mind was completely blown and shattered. When your knees gave out, Lewis grabbed the material that was tied around your wrist and pulled you up so your back pressed into his chest again and drove into you as if he’d just started. He looked like an angel, talked like a seductor but by God did he fuck like an animal, and you didn’t think you’d ever get enough.

“Mmm, give it to me baby!”

Another growl echoed behind you just as Lewis slapped your backside and delivered a bruising thrust that had you seeing spots.

“Mmm, yes! Yes. Give it to me motherfucker!”

While holding you up with one hand he brought his other hand around to your clit and pinched just when he daggered you again.

“Aaaah!”

In an effort to silence you, Lewis covered your lips with his and drew in your screams of pleasure as he fucked you through another orgasm. Once it had run its course, Lewis brought his hand around to tease your rear and you moaned again. Slowly he sank one digit inside of you then another using your wetness to aid his fingers. The feel was foreign but not unwelcomed. You were so far gone the man could have brought in a friend to watch and you wouldn’t have cared.

“Mine,” Lewis muttered.

“Yours. Show me--you own it.”

Just then he added a third finger and you whined from the stretch and feel of him filling you from both entrances.

“Jesus., Y/N. How are you so perfect for me? How didn’t we know it’d be like this? How didn’t we do this sooner?”

His lips pressed to your back as he slowly rocked into you making you shiver. He was right. You didn’t know how neither of you had ever guessed it would be like this between you. The sensations you were currently feeling made it so hard to think logically. Right now, you were tempted to open your mouth and say you wanted more than one night but you knew it was the pleasure that would be talking. The slowness he rocked into you coupled with the softness of his lips against your skin and his words put you in such a calm and comforting mood, but the way his fingers worked into you lit a whole new fire in you. It was one that you knew would become a blazing inferno that would scorch the two of you branding one another as the others.

“Fuck, Lewis,” you mewled.

“Yes princess.”

“More.”

“You’re ready for me?”

You nodded then whined again when he pulled from your body.

“So needy for me huh princess. Hungry for daddy’s cock?”

“So hungry. Fuck me daddy.”

You felt him slowly push forward sending the tip of his intrusion inside of you and it was then you fully grasped how big he really was.

“Fuck!”

Cool liquid dripped down you and you knew without looking that he’d taken advantage of the lube that was in your drawer. It definitely helped and when Lewis pushed further into you your back dipped.

“Uuuuugh, you’re so tight.”

“Stretch me out baby.”

“You really don’t wanna be able to sit or walk right for a week huh.”

“Yolo.”

Lewis snorted before he full on laughed. “No one says that anymore.”

Another few inches followed and so did more lube and by the time he’d delved halfway in you were a panting mess. With steady moves, Lewis rocked into you taking his time savoring the sensations coursing through him.

“Feels—feel—so—good,” he stuttered.

Feeling brave you backed onto him taking most of him in. Glancing at him, you saw his eyes bugged and mouth dropped open.

“Fuck me.”

A lazy smile spread across his face before it settled into something mischievous. he kept his eyes on you as he withdrew and submerged himself again. The move sent your eyes to the back of your head as you bit your finger to keep quiet. You were so focused on trying to keep it down that when you felt the vibrator rest right where he was currently nestled you melted into the bed.

“Oh god, Lewis I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait for me princess.”

He increased the speed on the vibrator and the feel of him plowing into you coupled with the vibrations there was no way you were going to last much longer. Lewis then brought his hand between your legs to flick your clit with his thumb.

“Aaah, yes!”

Your body moved without a thought backing into him, giving him as much as he was giving you. Your moans melded together as you both chased your release.

“Lewis!”

“Y/N!”

You pressed your hand atop the one he had between your legs and used his hand to rub against yourself while you circled your backside heightening both of your pleasure.

“Holy—you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me daddy. Fill this ass up!”

His grip tightened on you and his thrusts sped up and before long you both were screaming each other’s names as you both came together. You took every spurt he gifted you as a waterfall dripped down the inside of your thighs. Your bodies chose that moment to cave, and you fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs. The last thing you clearly registered was his lips pressing against your neck, your ear then your temple. Then it all went black.

~~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

When your eyes fluttered open the sun was beaming into your room lighting half of it up. Thankfully you remained in the dark. You realized within seconds that you weren’t alone, and it all came back to you. Lewis’ limbs were still tangled with yours and you were cocooned in his arms as he spooned you from behind. You sighed relishing the feeling of being enclosed in his arms. You felt safe, and calm like there was no need for anything else. You allowed yourself to savor the calm, savor the way this felt.

When you made a move to get up, you dropped right back down as every single muscle, bone and crevice of your body screamed in protest. You opened your mouth to scream but nothing came out and that caused even more alarm. Taking the time to calm yourself, you tried to get a grip. It took longer than feasibly possible but you untangled yourself from Lewis, rolled off the bed then steadied yourself on your legs. You were sure you looked like a newborn fawn as it tried to stand for the first time.

Your eyes fell to Lewis who looked so peaceful lying there among your lavender and pearl colored silk sheets. He looked angelic, not like a man who’d fucked you in every position, a man who’d been inside of every crevice of your body, a man who should make fucking his career rather than F1. A man who quite literally fucked you to sleep. That man from last night was a devilish seductor. This man in the morning was a sweet angel.

When your eyes took in the skin that was on display it took your breath away. If his face was angelic his body was pure destruction. The tight muscles that he’d no doubt worked hard for made him look sexier than any statue you’d ever seen. Statues should be made of him. The urge to dip your hand underneath the sheet that was draped across his crotch was so strong that you had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself. Wobbling to your door, you walked out leaving him to his sleep.

The trip downstairs was a slow one that you took one step at a time. Every move you made you felt everything you did the night before. You could still feel his hands sinking into your skin, his lips against your skin and his cock sliding in and out of you.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

You grabbed your robe off the floor and wrapped it around yourself as you beelined it to the kitchen. You needed sugar and caffeine. As you started the process of brewing the strongest cup of black tea, you’d ever had you dug out the cinnamon rolls from the freezer and popped them into the oven. Guessing you had maybe 5 or so minutes before the tea was ready you decided to fry up some vegan sausages. The salt would be a good balance for the sugar, both of which you needed to fully return to reality.

Once the cinnamon rolls and sausages were done you plated them and hopped onto the counter with your large cup of tea. You took your time taking small sips allowing the caffeine to seep into your veins and bit by bit revitalize your senses and brain cells. As you fully awakened every memory came back to you. Every single sensation, every thought overwhelmed you. You almost laughed out loud when you recalled your overconfident proposal.

“One night.”

Shaking your head, you took a large gulp of tea ignoring the burn of your taste buds. As expected, it was an unforgettable night that had scratched every single itch you had. It was a night that left you so sated that you felt like you could run the 4 miles he always tried to drag you on. As you ate one of the cinnamon rolls, you scrolled through your messages. Finding 6 unread messages in the group chat you scrolled through.

MSG Miles: Y.N, have you heard from Lew? No one can find him.

MSG Daniel: Lew’s not answering messages or calls. Anyone with him?

MSG Andrew: He took Y/N home last night. Nothing since. Y/N?

MSG Selah: You know Y/N don’t wake up before noon. Call Angela, his dad, his mom?

MSG Miles: None of them have seen him. His mom’s getting worried now.

MSG Bea: I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably asleep recovering from last night.

MSG Andrew: He’s not at home. Bed made and everything.

MSG Selah: Maybe he went to someone in the rotation.

You went through a range of thoughts and emotions reading through the messages. The first was panic especially when Andrew threw out that he’d taken you home last night. That was all it took for anyone to put two and two together. Then the mention of things escalating to now his family worrying about him being MIA brought that panic higher. When you got to Selah’s message about his rotation you wanted to vomit.

“Shut up, Y/N, that would be the logical thought.”

It all fell to the side as you realized you were being paranoid. There would be no reason for any of them to ever suspect he was still with you or that last night you’d both gotten to know each other’s bodies better than ever.

“Hey, good morning.”

You screamed and flung your phone from fright. Thankfully Lewis caught it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god. You scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again holding his hands out to show he wasn’t a threat.

After a few centering breaths, you took him in standing in your kitchen in just his boxer-briefs. Fuck he looked good.

“Eh-em, no worries I’m just not used to having anyone here--like this.”

He nodded.

“I get it.”

Usually, any guests didn’t make it to the overnight stage. You’d have them out the door once you’d both caught your breath. Sleepovers were not a thing for you. It was a rule. Get it in, get them out, or get it in and you get the hell out. You didn’t like complications, or situations where one could misconstrue intentions. That all led to drama and problems, you hated both. You had enough of your own to add on someone’s hurt feelings.

“Uh—tea, breakfast?”

Lewis looked over the food on the kitchen island and nodded as he hopped onto it across from you. You couldn’t stop your eyes from roaming over his body and you couldn’t stop where those eyes landed once he’d settled—right between his legs.

“Looks good.”

You gasped which sent a small piece of the cinnamon roll you were eating down your through and that sent you into a coughing fit. Lewis hopped down to come around and pat your back. After a few moments, you took a large gulp of your tea dislodging the bread.

“Are you good?”

“Fine. Oh my god. What did you say?”

“Looks good. The food.”

You snorted then sighed. “Yep. I hope you savor these sausages I think this is the last vegan item in this house.”

“I also see we’re back to obscene levels of sugar and processed food.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Hold the judgements. I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to shop and excuse me my body needed the sugar.

“Why?”

“Because I was all fucked out,” you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lewis studied you for a few seconds then scoffed as he hopped back onto the island. “You should be having electrolytes not sugar,” he mumbled.

“Ehm, anyway, you should let the crew know you’re fine then call your parents and Angela.”

“Why?”

You handed him your phone so he could read the messages through.

“Wow.”

You watched him get ready to type and you lurched for your phone, but he pulled back.

“What’re you doing?”

“Telling them I’m good,” he explained.

Your eyes bugged. “Not from my phone you’re not.”

“Why?”

You looked at him like he was insane. “Lewis you can’t reply as you from my phone. They’re going to know you’re here.”

“Okay.”

“No, they know I don’t allow people to stay over, that’s like announcing everything.”

He paused and it looked like he’d finally gotten it.

“So, I’m the first guy why’s stayed the night?”

“Lewis you know that.”

A slow smile spread across his face until he was full on grinning. He held out your phone to you then both of you ate in relative silence. Every few seconds your eyes met and lingered both wanting to say something but nothing coming out. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the super charged energy between you. It was mind altering. When you drained your cup Lewis tossed the rest of his sausage back onto the plate then wiped his hands. After, he hopped off the island and came closer to you. The way he looked at you gave you an idea what he wanted and though you shouldn’t have, you wanted the same thing.

When he stopped in front of you, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you to the edge of the surface making the memory of the same move from last night come rushing back. Just like that you were ready for him and the aches in your body no longer mattered. You watched Lewis’s hand creep to your body and the ties of your robe that hung between you. He loosened the tie in such a painfully slow move. You knew he was doing it on purpose. He was giving you the time to say no, but he was also using it to prove to you that there was no way you’d say no. Angelic face, body for destruction--he was an angel of destruction.

Your robe now hung open teasing him with the swells of your breasts. Lewis then used his fingers to part the material giving him the view of your body in early afternoon’s light. A soft sigh fell from his lips as he took in every bit of skin that was on display for him. He inched closer to your face prolonging your anticipation, increasing your desire for him. You had it right when you tagged him as a seductor. You inched in only for him to pull back. when he inched to you, you pulled back and the temperature in the kitchen skyrocketed.

Both of you rushed the other crashing your lips together. You moaned on him as his hands slipped into your robe and pressed across the small of your back. You wrapped your legs around his back and moaned when you felt his arousal. Addiction was a real thing, and it was at this moment you realized he’d ruined you. He’d intentionally ruined you and he knew it. When his eyes met yours, it was clear he knew it before he’d even laid a finger on you.

“One night,” he began as he peppered kisses along your neck. “And one afternoon,” he finished waiting for your reply.

You were already ruined. Why the hell not.

Colliding your lips with his, you took control of this kiss giving him all the consent and then some he come ever need. Lewis moaned and nibbled your bottom lip before he broke the kiss and trailed his lips down the center of your body stopping to taste your nipples. By the time he sank down to his knees before you, he’d perched your feet onto the edge of the counter, so you were spread for him.

“Worship her.”

He smiled then buried his face between your legs. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you laid back across the slate countertop ready to receive and enjoy his devotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Wheeeew!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22 @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou @heartfullofgolden @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess @19jammmy @nunya7394 @eltima02

#one night one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #black fanfiction #lewis hamilton smut #f1 fanfic

833 notes · View notes

amica-aenigmata-naboo · 1 year ago

Text

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 3 - 3.7K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

_________________

“Are you sure? No shame in staying behind.” Shadowheart said as she adjusted the last strap on the dark justicar armor she lent you. She looked concerned and wary.

“I’m sure, like you said, we are just going to a cemetery to talk to Raphael then come back. Sounds easy enough.” You shrugged. No wonder everyone’s movement in the game was limited, armor is heavy as shit.

Shadowheart paused, “How did you know it’s Raphael? I only said we had a devil to see…” she trailed off.

“Oh, umm…. With what you’ve told me this sounds like a Raphael thing… he has a certain flare for the dramatics that’s hard to miss.” You deflected trying so hard to sound casual.

Shadowheart hummed but you could tell she was… suspicious. Before you could spiral into an anxious heap, Astarion walked swiftly between the two of you. Hitting your shoulder unnecessarily he said “Are we going to stand around all day coddling them or shall we go?”

He always looked so pissed to be in your general vicinity and you noticed it more and more since the night you showed the group your phone. It had been a week since then, you worked with everyone to build your skills up. Everyone was pretty comfortable around you as of late, Karlach even going as far as to say she trusts you. So why was he the exception? You hadn’t done anything negative towards him? Was he upset about his reflection? Maybe you shouldn’t have sprung that on him? Whatever it was, it was making you both anxious and annoyed.

Truth be told, you were still kinda new to playing Baldur's Gate III in your world. The last save you remember was finishing the last trial in The Gauntlet of Shar. You just hope your limited knowledge might be useful somehow. You have to be mindful however. Little slips like the one with Shadowheart, showcasing that you knew more than you let on, could cause unexpected consequences. You had a few similar slip ups throughout the week but were thankfully able to brush them off. And you still had no idea how to tell them about you, the real you. You decided to keep it hidden for now, and when somebody inevitably asks you’ll tell them all.

——————————

You stepped through the portal with Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart. It left your body tingling for a moment. You looked around and vaguely recognized where you were. It’s definitely the Shadow Cursed Lands. The building in front of you looked abandoned but everything in the lands looked abandoned. You started walking forwards to the door of the building. You don’t remember anything bad here from your gameplay. The doors opened and you saw the first person outside of your little jolly group of misfits. She looked like a nurse and didn’t appear to be hostile. The others walked behind you as you slowly walked towards her. She was dipping a sponge into a basin of bloody water and cleaning the leg of a corpse. There were two of them actually. Both dead on separate beds, arms outstretched towards each other.

“The doctor is quite busy today… you may wait in line to be seen.” The nurse said.

“Why are you cleaning corpses, surely there must be something better to do.” Astarion said, typical sass in his voice but also confusion.

“Corpse? They’re merely sleeping…” she said softly, continuing to clean.

“Mmmmm no, those are definitely dead.” He responded, tapping the lid of a nearby jar.

The nurse turned to look at Astarion. “Perhaps I should turn my services elsewhere?” She said dropping the sponge back into the bowl. She pulled out a bone saw and started walking towards him. His eyes widened.

“Sister, look…” you said, pointing towards the bodies. Her head instantly snapped away from Astarion.

“Oh sister they’ve been so well tended to. They sleep like angels. They must be so grateful.” You said, eyeing Astarion as if trying to tell him to back up and shut up.

She dropped the bone saw, grabbing your hands. They were cold and shaking. “Truly? These hands… the doctor must be notified of all patient improvements.” She said starting to walk towards the center of the house where a heavy closed door laid.

“Wait!” You said quickly.

She looked at you, head cocked to the side.

“Your patients will wake soon. Who is lovelier to wake up to than their doting nurse? You stay, I’ll notify the doctor.” You smiled at her.

She shook her head vigorously, “Right, they need me. The doctor is in surgery right now… wait for him there.” She pointed at the large door before grabbing the sponge from the bowl. “Take these will you?” She asked, dropping two rings in your hands. Shadowblade rings. They were Arabella’s parents.

You pocketed them quickly and thanked the sister before silently backing up and walking away.

“Is that your talent? Comforting deranged nurses?” Astarion jabbed.

You elected to ignore him, not feeding into his negativity.

You walked into the operating theater. The doctor had just removed a man’s eyes, the sisters cutting him randomly and harshly. Your eyes widened and you fought the urge to throw up. Seeing this in a game and in real life we’re vastly different and this was insanely more disturbing.

Your foot hit some debris on the floor, notifying everyone of your existence.

“Are you here to aid in surgery? I asked for an attending hours ago…” said the doctor, flinging the man’s eyes off into a corner of the room.

“Yes… of course doctor my apologies.” You detach yourself from your group. The man on the operating table whimpered and whined. His throat was all raw from the endless screaming you imagined. You walked closer to the man. The doctor handed you one of the nurses knives.

You took it gently, the man continued to struggle against his confines. You looked at your companions, they looked at you with just as much anxiety as you felt.

“Be ready” you mouthed to Karlach. She nodded, your companions slowly moving into different locations.

You looked to the doctor who was holding a bone saw. You weren’t exactly in the *best* spot for a battle to start. Let alone your first battle. Let’s just hope somebody likes you enough to give Withers a little gold if the worst happens.

You swiftly plunged the knife into the doctors throat, shoving the nurse next to you as you grabbed your sword. Lae’zel gave you The Cruel Sting for your first time outside of camp, bless her angry ass. You swung at the nurse on the opposite side of you, the sword ensnared her. The nurses spread out, your companions taking them on. The doctor turned his focus to you. “Petulant child…” he said before knocking you on your back, he held his bone saw under your chin. “Don’t fret, I’ll be sure to cure you of your…. Affliction.” He laughed while tapping his head.

You held your arm up just in time for the bone saw to clatter against your armor. Karlach shot her bow at him as soon as she saw you on the ground. The air stunk of drow poison and that seemed to be enough to turn the doctors attention. You scurried off the ground, driving your sword through him as he faced away from you. Karlach hit him with a reckless attack and the doctor dropped to the ground, finally dead. The hall was quiet except for everyone’s heavy breaths.

You smiled at Karlach, impressed with yourself. The smile quickly faltered as you looked down and saw one of the nurses blades in between the metal plates of your armor. Karlach immediately turned and struck down the dying nurse. Shadowheart turned you quickly and pulled the knife out. You screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the theater. She spoke a healing spell over you, but her brow drew up in confusion.

“It’s not working.” She whispered.

“The fuck do you mean it’s not working? Fix it!” You yelled. You could feel the blood seeping through the different parts of your armor. Down your stomach, over your thighs…

“I’m trying!” She yelled back, rattling off another spell.

Karlach popped open a potion of healing, she grabbed your face and tilted your head back forcing the bottle to your lips. It tasted like wine; you could feel it envelop your body. As if it were coursing through you seeking out pain. You felt it stitch your wound together sloppily. You cried in pain as it felt like fire putting you back together. You lifted your armor, the wound was partially healed but that would have to do until you got back to camp.

Karlach and Shadowheart asked if you were ok, sympathetic as they both know battle is new to you. Battle wounds are common but you never forget your first.

“Your first battle scar! Congrats soldier.” Karlach said, trying to lighten the mood.

You blubbered out a chuckle, readjusting your armor.

“I’m sorry we were here to see Raphael, yes?” Astarion said walking out to the graveyard without the rest of you.

You sighed and began walking, doing your best not to grimace.

———————-

Everyone listened intently to Raphael. He told Astarion everything you already knew. You had zoned out a bit, hand ghosting over your wound every few minutes.

“And you…” Raphael said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down like a meal.

You closed your eyes desperately wanting to disappear. Of course the devil would know you weren’t of their world.

“Different aren’t you?” He said grabbing your hand, a swift prick to one of your fingers had you snatching your hand back. Raphael dipped the nail into his mouth, swirling your blood on his tongue.

“Mmmm, very different. You’re not from here are you? Strange that you ended up with this lot. You’re far more valuable elsewhere. Have you told your new friends about you? What do they really know and what do you hide?” Raphael smiled as he looked at the others.

They all had their eyes on you. Leave it to the devil to make it sound like you were trying to infiltrate their party.

“Stop.” You whispered at him, the tone of your voice begging him.

“No matter. I’ll see you in time, pet.” Raphael gave you a final smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“And you lot thought I was just being mean. If the devil says they can’t be trusted, what more is to be said?” Astarion asked aloud.

You winced again as your wound stung against the armor. Karlach moved towards you. She grabbed your arm gently, looking at the new red spreading through the cloth under your armor.

“We need to get back.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, flat and unwavering.

Everyone silently went through the portal back to camp.

————————

Gale patched up your wound so you could finally walk around comfortably. Happy to have the armor off of you, you walked to the campfire and began prepping dinner. Everyone else had gone to the stream to bathe or had retreated into their respective tents. You could tell that tonight may very well be the night you have to tell them all your secret. Why not soften the blow with some food?

You made them Baldurian mash since it was all you could think of given your limited ingredients. You set up bowls and spoons and different bottles of liquor for everyone. Just in time, you saw them all trudging up the hill in their night clothes. Everyone looked at you with doubt and caution.

Great.

Everyone smelled the food and silently made their way to the bonfire before dishing themselves their food and drinks. Before anyone could get a bite down Astarion yelled.

“Wait!” He jogged over to the fire.

“Are you sure we should be eating the food of someone who Raphael just told us was hiding things that seem to be of great importance?” He eyed the food and then you.

You scoffed thinking he was joking, and yet nobody took a bite.

You looked around, none of your companions meeting your eyes.

“I may have secrets but I don’t mean any of you harm…. You all are the closest thing I have to friends… I’d never hurt any of you.” You said, voice small but strong.

Astarion laughed, “Sounds like something somebody would say who is trying to kill us. Why else would you make all this?”

That’s it, you’ve had enough of fangs and his attitude towards you. You stood and took a large bite of the mash before taking a swig out of every open alcohol bottle.

“Proof enough for ya?” You asked, shoving past him. “I made all this because I wanted to be helpful. I want to be helpful because you all are my friends. I trust all of you even if you don’t trust me. So how about it fangs? Am I ok to stay or do you have anything else you wanna throw at me?”

Astarion could see the anger in your face. “Let’s just hope your culinary skills are better than your battle skills.” He said walking past you, shoving your shoulder with his.

Astarion expected the sniffle he heard from you.

“Astarion?” You asked.

“What?” He tutted, turning to face you.

What he didn’t expect was the punch that landed square in his face.

“Shit!” You immediately recoiled your hand, already feeling the bruising on your knuckles. You shook your hand out before saying your final piece,

“I have secrets it’s true. And I am happy to tell them to you as soon as I figure out how. But I don’t want to hurt any of you…”

“Excuse me?” Astarion said as he held his bleeding nose.

“Zip it! You have been nothing but spiteful towards me since I got here. I don’t know what your damage is with me but we need each other like it or not. We all need each other. I will fight for you all just as you fight for me. Whatever side you’re on, is the side I’m on.” You finished. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, occasionally glancing at Astarion and his busted face.

Karlach stood and marched herself over to you. If this was the end for you at least it was Karlach taking you out, it’ll be a quick death. She held out her hand and you apprehensively took it.

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a secret or two? I trust them and their intentions after seeing them outside the camp today. Y/N, you have my support and my trust.” Karlach said.

You couldn’t help but tear up and engulf her in a hug. Thank god she had already had her tune up or it would have been a very short, scorching hug. She only faltered for a moment before hugging you back.

“Enough with the doom and gloom Astarion. Please come eat, it smelled heavenly.” Karlach asked, walking back to her bowl and taking a bite. This seemingly put everyone at ease, everyone starting to eat and drink. Everyone sent you soft smiles or nods of approval as if to finally say “welcome, you’re here to stay.”

Astarion picked up his pride and went to hunt. He was so sure he could turn them against you enough to at least abandon you. Why did you have to be so damn sweet and honest with everyone? He knew he deserved that punch but it didn’t make him want you any less.

You grabbed a bottle of Ithbank before heading to your tent for the night.

————————

You awoke hours later. The camp was quiet except for a groan you heard. You sat up, it sounded like it was coming from the stream. Getting up you wore nothing but your large untied shirt and underwear. You crept over to the hillside. You saw Astarion with his shirt off splashing water onto his shoulder. The night was dark but you could see his hand was covered in blood. Punched or not, you wanted to help him. You slunk down the hill, thankful the riverbed rocks were smooth under your feet.

“May I?” You said.

“Gods! Don’t do that!” He winced. “I don’t want your help.”

“But you need it, you stubborn jackass.” You said, grabbing his hand and marching him back to your tent. You sat him on your bedroll before grabbing a cloth and pouring some water from your canteen on it. You gently pressed it to the slash on his shoulder.

“Care to tell me what happened?” You asked.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Looking to get punched again?” You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes as he tried to stifle the hiss he had to let out from the pain.

“We could be friends ya know. If you weren’t out to get me for some unknown reason.” You said with a tinge of sadness to your voice.

“And why would I want to be your friend?” He asked.

“I’m smart, funny, attractive….” You smiled as you listed.

He let out a chuckle, “Might want to add vain to the list.”

“Seriously though, why don’t you like me?” You asked, setting the cloth aside and going for some bandages you had in your camp pack.

“I don’t trust you there’s a difference.” He said, looking at the ground.

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person and I respect that, but everyone deserves a chance. Have I done anything to make you mistrust me?” You finally looked into his crimson eyes. They were beautiful. Shiny like rubies and a deep crimson like blood.

“You punched me in the face.” He said, meeting your gaze.

“You deserved to be punched in the face.” You said, starting to wrap the gauze around his torso and shoulder.

“Perhaps.” He conceded.

You noticed a small cut to his cheekbone. Raising your hand, you ran your thumb under it. You grabbed the cloth you used to clean his wound and brought it to his cheek, dabbing softly at the dried blood. He caught your wrist in a soft grasp. You looked at each other, neither moving. The air around you felt thick. Thankful for the dim light from the bonfire, you were sure you were blushing unintentionally. Astarion softly pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist.

“Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.” He sounded so sincere. You smiled and thumbed over his cheek one last time before pulling your hand back to yourself.

The more you looked at him the more you noticed his sunken eyes, his slim cheeks, the aches that plagued him.

Hungry

You jumped back a little not expecting to hear voices and feel a wriggle in your head. Astarion’s eyes flitted to yours, “You’re hungry aren’t you?” You asked in a whisper.

“I didn’t drink as much as I would have hoped to… the bear apparently didn’t like fangs in it.” He said, gesturing to the bandaged gash.

You pondered it for a moment. On one hand, he had been a massive cunt to you since you arrived and had punched him a few hours ago. On the other hand, he just let you patch him up and even thanked you for it.

“If you want… you could feed off me? If it would help?” You asked, looking between his eyes and the ground, fingers picking at each other nervously.

“You would do that for me?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“See? I’m not so bad after all.” You smiled as you pulled your laces at the top of your shirt loose revealing your neck, shoulder, and the top of your chest.

He gulped and looked at your beautiful skin. He was hungry but he knew he’d have to repay you. He pulled you to him by your waist, planting you in his lap, straddling his hips. You knew what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me… I’m doing this because I want to help you.” You said, shifting yourself to sit next to him instead of on him.

He gave you a soft smile, “Apologies. I’m used to giving myself as payment. Old habits die hard I suppose.”

You nodded, knowing his history and not wanting to trudge up bad memories. You leaned against the tree trunk next to your bed roll, exposing your neck to him.

Astarion licked his lips subconsciously. His breath against your neck made you shiver. He kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It felt like getting an IV needle shoved into your throat. The pain was quick, the feeling of blood being sucked out of you was what felt odd. Warm fluid being sucked out rapidly. He must have been hungry.

After a minute you gently pushed against his chest. He snapped back to reality, pulling back and resting his head against your shoulder while licking up the little blood that spilled from the punctures. His breath was heavy and so were his eyes.

“That was amazing…” he whispered.

You sat up a bit, pushing Astarion back. “Glad my blood is acceptable.” You joked, pulling your shirt back on properly and tightening the laces.

It was beyond acceptable. It was… heavenly. It was beyond anything he had tasted or smelled before. It tasted sweet. Like the richest chocolate. It coated his tongue and he already wished for more. His gaze was glazed over, perfectly happy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

You watched him. He was beautiful, truly. The feeling of arousal that shot through you while he drank made you feel awful. You knew his backstory and you knew he was in no position to do anything sexual. You focused on slowing your heartbeat down in hopes he wouldn’t hear it.

He gently took your hand before kissing your wrist again, “Thank you. This was a gift, I won’t forget it.” He nodded before getting up and heading back to his tent. “Goodnight.” You heard him say faintly.

You smiled as you laid down, happy that you two reached a truce. Maybe he needed a bit more care than the others, and you were happy to provide it. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a certain pale elf.

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I hope to hear from you all in the comments or in my DM's. I really wanna try and write a few drabbles for y'all. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

159 notes · View notes