#when they’re voices don’t come out of my headphones that is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theharddeck · 1 year ago

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do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone.

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit.

But.

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app.

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do.

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play.

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones.

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena.

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you.

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer.

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter.

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering.

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip.

Why did guys in real life never moan?

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure.

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low.

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only.

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you.

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste?

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy, acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin.

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.”

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his.

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?”

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you.

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper.

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him.

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?”

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds.

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl.

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?”

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against.

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded.

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.”

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect.

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there.

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow.

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to.

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set.

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you.

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door.

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time.

Some might even say, with a pep in your step.

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed.

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat.

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly.

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on.

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing).

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person.

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets.

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration.

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze.

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too.

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise.

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips.

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago.

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.”

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock.

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms.

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal.

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before??

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot.

A knock on your door startled you.

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically.

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door.

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it.

He looked the same.

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you.

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them.

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral.

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away.

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse.

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room.

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced.

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t.

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room.

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again.

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it.

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep.

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react.

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation.

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you.

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly.

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him.

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob.

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway.

Of course he did.

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately.

Objectively, Bob was the best.

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you.

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you.

He pushed himself off the bed.

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either.

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay.

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it.

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question.

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break.

You kissed him.

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer.

He was so soft.

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him.

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention.

“Can I show you?” you asked.

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry.

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely.

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard.

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze.

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently.

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you.

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually.

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked.

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob.

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them.

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett.

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard.

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need.

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch.

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations.

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing.

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it.

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric.

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob.

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again.

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob.

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering.

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob.

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking.

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did.

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled.

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him.

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.”

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him.

It was better with him.

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing.

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good.

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there.

You felt like you were floating.

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him.

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life.

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right.

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips.

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you.

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself.

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner.

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin.

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin.

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.”

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had.

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless.

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered.

He wasn’t done, either.

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…”

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses.

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man.

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace.

You loved the feeling of his skin.

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you.

Fuck.

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders.

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric.

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself.

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him.

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick.

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky.

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat.

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it.

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact.

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you.

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him.

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them.

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking.

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster.

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much.

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly.

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you.

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more.

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn.

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect.

Fuck, he felt so good.

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon.

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked.

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything.

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop.

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core.

He knew, somehow.

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising.

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…”

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him.

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd #misskielwrites #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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starkwlkr · 2 years ago

Note

You should write baby ruby telling some fans private details about her parents and then finding out and being horrified

she said what? | charles leclerc

ruby back at it again with being on a phone ban 😍 let’s pretend the twitch quartet is back

warnings: just hints at sex that’s all

“Okay, are we ready?” Charles asked his friends, who were all in their own homes streaming.

“Papa? I can’t open my food.” He heard Ruby’s voice from behind him. She entered his room holding a fruit cup she got from the refrigerator.

“RUBYYYYY!” The little girl heard Lando’s voice yell from Charles’ headphones.

“Mate! You screamed right in my ear!” Charles took off his headphones. He grabbed the fruit cup from Ruby’s hand and opened up the container.

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked when she noticed he had a game loading on the screen.

“I’m playing with Lando, George and Alex. Want to say hi?” Ruby nodded with a smile. “Baby Leclerc is here, don’t say any bad stuff!” He warned his friends as he put the headphones on Ruby’s ears.

“Hi, Baby Leclerc!” Alex said to the little girl. “Lily misses you!”

“Where’s Lily?” The girl immediately asked.

“She’s playing golf right now.”

Then Charles read the chat.

paddockbesties BABY LECLERC Hi

gaslysteam she looks so big since the last time she was on stream

lu565 hi baby leclerc!!

“Baby, look they’re saying hi to you.” Charles pointed at the screen and read a few comments to her.

“Hi!” The little girl waved to the screen.

“Hi Baby L! It’s your favorite uncle here!” Lando said.

“Uncle Pierre?” Ruby questioned which made all the drivers laugh.

“This is the worst day of my life.” Lando said.

“Okay, here you go baby.” Charles gave Ruby her fruit cup. “Be careful—“

And down to the floor went the fruit cup.

“Sorry papa.” Ruby apologized. “I clean.”

“Wait here,” Charles said to her. He was going to get the paper towels since she wasn’t tall enough to reach the counter. After he left, she sat in his gaming chair and looked at the screen, watching the chat go by.

“Baby L, how are you?” Alex asked the girl.

“Happy. George, where’s Carmen?”

Ruby loved Lily and Carmen so she was rather upset that the two women weren’t present. She then remembered something that had happened to her a couple days ago that she wanted to share.

“My papa and mama were yelling when I came here with uncle enzo. But then they said I love you.” Ruby said. She started playing with the headset’s cord.

“Why were they yelling?” Lando asked.

“I don’t know! They were on the bed and my papa told me not to go in!”

“RUBY STOP TALKING!” Lando yelled.

“NO NO NO.” Alex tried to make as much noise so the viewers didn’t hear anything else.

“WHERE IS CHARLES? CHARLES COME GET YOUR DAUGHTER!” George had even taken his phone out to text Charles to hurry up.

“My mama yelled louder than that.”

“RUBY NO!”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #charles leclerc imagine #dad!charles leclerc #baby leclerc series

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the-real-couchrat · 2 months ago

Text

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing AU #Captain Curly #recovered Curly #healing curly #healing curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #curly mouthwashing #recovering curly #recovering curly mouthwashing

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stevie-petey · 2 months ago

Text

episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry.

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do.

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this.

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max.

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be.

The line remains quiet.

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.”

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak.

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall.

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well.

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind.

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you.

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead.

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms.

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too.

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak.

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first.

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve.

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should.

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss.

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this.

So Steve doesn’t lie to him.

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do.

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against.

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him.

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest.

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

–

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!”

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy.

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed.

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you.

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one.

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand.

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly.

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.”

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,�� you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy.

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

–

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out.

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house.

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others.

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air.

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time.

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground.

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you.

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision.

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house.

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard.

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?”

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon.

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear.

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose.

Out through your mouth.

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more.

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this.

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you.

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice.

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag.

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else.

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely.

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?”

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again.

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs.

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!”

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.”

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.”

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side.

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders.

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead.

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!”

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?”

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her.

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say.

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair.

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him.

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time.

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise.

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid.

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it.

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now.

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend.

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss.

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.”

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand.

–

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares.

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way.

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to.

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now.

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach.

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby.

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it.

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice.

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna.

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on.

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase.

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored.

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose.

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on.

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious.

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation.

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.”

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode.

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin.

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #first chapter where steve and bug dont fight !!!#HOORAY !!!!

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boredfantasizer · 4 months ago

Text

Obsessed. (Matthew Sturniolo)

WARNINGS: Drug abuse, physical abuse, PTSD, smut, stalking, teen drinking. Toxic!Matt (if you squint) / tension building / cursing / SMUT / p in v / unprotected sex / Dom!Matt / pet names. Mentions of selling the female body for pleasure, abusive father, fight.

TROPES: Slow burn, Stranger to lover, Stalker to lover, Enemies to lovers.

MATT’S POV: It was the morning; I went to school and spot my friends in the hallway I walk up to them and say hi to them. After a few moments of talking, I noticed they all tensed up as you walked in the hallway to go to your class. I look at my friends and furrow my brows in confusion from their change in demeanor.

“What the hell are you guys suddenly scared of? Y’all look like fucking idiots.” I say chuckling at how dumb they look now.

“Her.” One of my friends say in a timid tone, I look in the direction they we’re looking at and spot you. You we’re walking by phone in your hands. You looked like a regular teenage girl so obviously I look at my friends like they’re stupid. “What about her?” I ask them.

They all turn to me and look at me like I grew two heads.

“What? Why are y’all looking at me like that?”

“Do you not know who she is?” One of my friends asked me.

“No?” I say in a confused tone.

My friends all turn to me and tilt their heads to the side, it looks like they’re judging me which in turn makes me more confused.

“Dude… She’s fucking crazy, she’s been in and out of juvie and foster homes, group homes. She’s been kicked out of three schools already, she just got back from being suspended. You remember that big fight that happened a few days ago with and Angela ended up with a dislocated jaw?”

“Yeah, I remember people talking about it, I didn’t see it though. Why?” “That was her.” My friend says he points to you and my eyes widen in shock and amusement.

“Still, you guys look like a bunch of pussies for being scared of a girl. Watch, I’ll talk to her, and you’ll see there’s nothing to be scared of. Y’all are just pussies.” I start to walk towards you then my another one of my friends call out.

“Matt don’t! She’s dangerous don’t talk to her.” He yells, a hint of panic in his voice. I turn around still walking, now walking backwards, “I’ll be fine watch.” I turn back around and continue walking towards you. You were at a locker; I am assuming is yours.

Y/N’S POV:

I was at a locker, it wasn’t mine, in fact I didn’t know the person who owns the locker. I was eating an apple when I heard a voice next to me. “Hey” the voice said. I turn and see a boy, I’ve seen him around, but I’ve never talked to him; he’s attractive but I don’t pay attention to him much. I throw the apple in the locker and close it then turn to face the boy. “What do you want?” I say in an annoyed tone. “Just wanted to say hi.” The boy says. “Well you said it. Now goodbye.” I turned and walked away from him to my class.

*Time skip*

Lunchtime rolled around I grabbed my food and went to sit at an empty table. I pull out my phone and headphones from my backpack, I plug in my headphones and listen to music while I eat, suddenly I see the shadow of someone in front of me. I look up and see the boy from this morning at the locker. I pull one earcup from my ear and look at him.

“What?” I say in an annoyed tone.

“Thought you might want company.” The boy says.

“Well, you thought wrong so scram.” I speak.

“Oh, come on don’t be like that… What are you listening to?” The boy asks.

“I’m not going to get rid of you, huh?”

“Nope. I’m in too deep, what are you listening too?” He says as he takes a fry from my tray and pops it into his mouth. I roll my eyes and scoff but answer anyways.

“Paranoid by Chase Atlantic.” I say dryly, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible. “Oh you an angel sweetheart?” He says in a teasing tone which I don’t enjoy. “Don’t call me sweetheart it’s weird.” I say in a harsh firm tone.

He chuckled softly at my annoyance, finding your feisty personality amusing. He tilted his head slightly, studying you intently. “What should I call you then, princess?"

"That's worse." My patience running thin the more this fucker talks. He chuckled softly again, clearly enjoying my annoyance. "Alright, alright, I won't call you princess then. Though I have to say you are kind of acting like one right now." He smirked slightly, enjoying the way I get agitated whenever he called me pet names.

God, I want to punch him in the face, I roll my eyes "I'm going to go." I stand up, throw the rest of my food away and head for the cafeteria doors

He watches as I stand up and make my way to the cafeteria doors, his smile fading slightly. He didn't want to let you leave just yet. Without thinking, he stands up quickly and walks up behind you.

"Wait." he says, grabbing my wrist gently.

I yank my hand back the second his skin contacts mine

"What?!" I yell.

He winced slightly when I yanked my hand back, but he tried to hide it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and met my gaze, his expression serious.

"Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? You can't seriously think I'm going to just let you walk away like that."

“What do you want… Make it quick.” I speak.

He took a step closer to me , his eyes never leaving mine. He let out a small sigh before speaking, his tone more serious than before.

"I want you to stop being so defensive all the time. You don't have to act like you hate everyone and everything. Why are you so damn closed off?”

My intense exterior falters, my thoughts immediately go to my childhood, I compose myself and look at him intensely. I speak in a harsh tone.

"Don't worry about shit that doesn't concern you."

He notices the way my exterior falters but doesn't point it out. He takes a step closer, standing just inches away from me now.

"Everything that has to do with you concerns me." He said, his voice firm but gentle at the same time. "I just don't understand why you're so closed off all the time. Why can't you let anyone in?"

"You don't even know my name! Why do fucking care so much about a random girl?!" I snap at him, yelling at him clearly pissed off at the fact that he won't take a goddamn hint and leave me alone.

He took a step back, slightly taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. He could hear the anger in your voice. He took a deep breath.

"I don't know your name because you won't tell me!" He retorted, his voice rising slightly. "And I care because I can tell there's more to you than you are letting on!"

"I don't know you! I don't know your name! And you don't know my name! I'm not interested leave me the fuck alone!"

"Why are you being so damn difficult?! Can't you just let me in for one goddamn minute?" He exclaimed, his voice raising in volume as his frustration grew

“No." I yell at him and walk out of the cafeteria doors. MATT’S POV:

And that was it… She walked off. I didn't know why I was so hell-bent on getting to know you better. Maybe it was the way you acted so closed off and defensive. Maybe it was the fact that you were so damn attractive. Maybe it was both. I didn't know.

I spent the rest of the day constantly thinking about you. Even throughout my classes, I didn't seem to concentrate on anything else. I tried to push the thoughts of you out of my mind, but I just couldn't. Your feisty demeanor stuck in my head like glue. As soon as the final bell rang, I grabbed my things and quickly made my way outside trying to get home as soon as possible but when I saw you… Something clicked in me, I decided to follow you home.

I kept a distance, trying not to make it too obvious that I was following you. I know it was kind of creepy, but I can't help it. I needed to get to the bottom of why you were so damn closed off all the time. I needed to break down those walls you had built up so high. As you walked, I kept my eyes on you, watching your every move, my mind racing with thoughts and questions like ‘Why do you look to damn hot?’ ‘Why we’re you so closed off?’ ‘Why did you go to juvie so many times?’ Then I started getting dirtier thoughts, I started thinking about the way your body looked in the clothes you wore today. Thinking about what’s under those clothes. And how your nails would feel digging into my shoulders as I make you feel good, how you would look under me and on top of me.

We get to your house, and I hide in a nearby bush hoping you don’t see me. I look up at your house. It’s a two-story house, it looks old, but still livable. I take my phone out of my back pocket and open Google Maps, trying to see the location. Once I find it, I favorite it. I have intentions of coming back here. I notice as you open the door and swing it closed behind you. Once I see that you are inside, I step out of the bush and walk around. Trying to look for an entrance, I saw a cracked window. I go up to it and push it up further and come inside, I see you in the kitchen. You have your headphones on listening to music and dancing around a bit as you get a snack. I chuckle softly at the sight and hide behind the couch. After you finish your snack you start heading upstairs.

As you walk up the stairs you take off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. My breath hitches and I continue following you. You take off your headphones and I instantly hide, you head inside the bathroom, and I hear the shower, I sigh in relief look down and notice the tightness in my pants. I shake my head and look in the direction of the bathroom I go up to the door and open it slightly peeking my head in and see the sight of you in the shower through the glass door, I stop looking and lean against the wall next to the door.

“Fuck…” I mutter under my breath from the sight of you. I need to make you mine and I need to do it as soon as possible. I peek my head back through the door, I take out my phone and take a picture of you in the shower, I know it’s fucked up but it’s like my hands have a mind of their own. As I hear the sound of the water stopping I start making my way downstairs.

I get home and see my brothers Nick and Chris on the couch watching something. They both turn to look at me as I walk in the door. Both of them have their brows furrowed in concern, and confusion.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Nick says, his tone a little irritated.

“Out.” I respond dryly, not wanting to give them the real reason out of embarrassment. Even though they can clearly see that I am lying.

“Quit bein’ vague what were you doing?” Chris says.

I sigh and run one of my hands through my messy hair. I decide to tell them.

“I was following a girl…” I say reluctantly.

Both Nick and Chris’ eyes widen at my response, Chris looking amused and Nick looking worried.

“Who was it?” Chris asks.

“That one girl who has been in and out of juvie…” I respond looking down at the floor. Not wanting to meet their gazes.

Both Nick and Chris tense up at the mention of you.

“W- why her?” Nick asks.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly an easy target Matt, she will chew you up eat you and spit you out. You do realize that right?” Chris says, his tone concerned

“I don’t care. No one's made it out alive, but I'll be the first, mark my words she will be mine.” I say

Both Nick and Chris furrow their brows and turn back to the TV trying to avoid looking at me. *Time Skip* Y/N’S POV:

‘Sick fucker’ I think to myself when I see a boy look at me during class, biting his lip and smirking like an idiot, I want to beat his ass and leave him dead on the floor for even thinking about looking at me the way he is. I turn to the demented asshole and speak.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll cut your fucking dick off and shove it down your throat.”

The teacher clearly heard that and cleared his throat.

“Don’t talk like that on school campus. Or at all it’s not lady-like.” The teacher says.

I furrow my brows at the teachers comment and gesture to the guy who was eye-fucking me the whole class period.

“That demented idiot has been eye-fucking me the whole period and you’re worried about me being ‘un-lady-like’?”

“Language Y/N.” The teacher says,

I scoff and lean back into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest, after a few moments the class ends. I grab my stuff and head to my next class of the dreadful day. Before going to class I head to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, I sigh and dig into my bookbag for a bottle of concerta. I pop it in my mouth and take a sip of my water bottle to swallow the pill then head to class. When I entered the class I sit at a random desk and lay my head on it then I heard a voice.

“Tired, huh?” I listen and look up, it’s the boy from yesterday.

“You know most boys give up when a girl show’s no interest.” I say in a tiredly annoyed tone.

“Well, I’m not most people.” He says smirking

I sit up and look at him from the corner of my eye before turning to face him completely.

“What’s your name lover-boy?” I say teasingly but I am still annoyed at him.

He chuckles softly at the nickname and shakes his head,

“Matt, how ‘bout your name princess?” He uses the nickname to get a reaction out of me and he does.

“I told you to not call me princess… Also, my name is Y/N.”

He hums and nods, as the teacher starts talking.

After a good thirty minutes of the teachers yammering on and on, I get a note on my desk. I furrow my brows, take it and open it. It reads, ‘I’m sitting with you at lunch again today, try and stop me, and you are not allowed to go anywhere.’ I look in the direction of Matt. I crumbled the paper and threw it at him. Paper ball hitting his temple.

“Bingo,” I whisper as the ball hits him but loud enough for him to hear me.

“Aw, look at you, warming up to me already.” Matt whispers in an obnoxious child-like voice.

“Shut up I still think you’re trying too hard for a girl you barely know.” I say in an annoyed tone.

“I don’t need to know you to know that I’m obsessed with you” he says, I furrow my brows at his words. He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know my past, why I’ve been in and out of juvie and foster homes, anything about my family, nothing about me… How can he be obsessed with me?

“You’re nothing like any girl I’ve ever met… You carry yourself differently, yes, I know about the fights and the juvie hell even the foster homes. You keep saying “You don’t know me” I know that. I want you to teach me. I want to know everything about you. I want to know what you think, what you feel. Everything.” He continues, I feel a sense of safety with him suddenly then I look up at him and make eye contact with him. He has beautiful icy blue eyes; I didn’t notice them before them but now I do.

“You’re going to regret sayin’ that Matt…” I speak

He leans closer to me and whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m not going to regret anything if it includes you.” He whispers in my ear and leans back in his seat and works on his assignment.

“Ugh, fine. Lunch you said?” I speak

His eyes light up when I speak after hearing my words his leg starts bouncing out of excitement, I chuckle softly at the sight of him being excited to talk to me more.

“Yeah- Lunch…” He says, trying to keep his voice from being shaky and failing miserably. MATT’S POV:

“Fuck she’s gorgeous.” I say to my friends as you walk by, it takes everything in me to not go up to you and drag you to my car. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you bite your lip subconsciously, everything about the way you carry yourself draws me in more and more.

“She’s insane is what she is.” My friend says, his words snapping me out of my thoughts. I glare at him.

“I heard she used to beat the shit out of her ex when he talked about fucking her.” He says.

“I mean can you blame him? I want to dive in that pussy now. What I would give to feel her wrap around my cock…” I say without even realizing it.

My friends furrow their brows and look at me weirdly, one of them chuckles and speaks up after a few moments of silence.

“Since when have you been freaky?”

“Since I laid eyes on her.”

Y/N’S POV:

Lunchtime rolled around and I groaned as I remembered that Matt would sit next to me. I don’t know why he’s so invested in me, but I find it amusing and annoying at the same time. He seems like a good guy, but I’ve been hurt by many men that were supposed to love me and left me. God, forbid I let someone ruin me again. First it was my dad, then my ex-boyfriend. Then my supposed ‘best friend’ either way I’ve been hurt too many times to let anyone in.

Sadly, Matt just had to deal with the fact that I don’t trust anyone unless they prove to be trustworthy. But will I ever tell him that? Hell no, if I do tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to seem worthy to get me to trust him. I want to get to know the real Matt. I remember my mom would always tell me… ‘The three-month rule’ basically saying that men show their true colors after three months. But I don’t want to wait that long but I have to do what I have to do, I guess.

I sat at my usual table and sure enough. Matt came

“Hey…” Matt says dragging the ‘y’.

“Hi” I say back, not adding any extra energy that needs to be added. I pull out my earbuds and put one in my ear.

“You know it’s rude to listen to music while you’re having a conversation with someone.” Matt says. I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with his shit or anyone’s shit for that matter.

“Oh, bite me.” I retaliate.

“Don’t tempt me, baby...” Matt says, his voice sultry

I must admit… I did not like the effect that nickname, and his voice had on me. I avoid eye contact for a second to blush and look back at him, as seriously as ever. I plug in my headphones and play music. Looking down at my food before eating it. I glance up and see Matt furrowing his brows at me.

“What’re you listening to?” Matt asks.

“Uh. Nothin’.”

“C’mon tell me.” Matt says, trying to reach for my phone.

I move to take my phone just as he reaches for it. But he grabs it and looks at the song, I rest my forehead in my hands and let out a small ‘fuck’.

He smirks, liking what he saw playing on the phone. “Talk Dirty by Daniel Di Angelo…” He says slowly as he slowly puts the phone down. “Didn’t know you liked that type of music, babe… Good to know.”

I snatch my phone back “What? Surprised that I know good music?”

“No, surprised that you would listen to something so… Sexual…”

“You’re acting like as if I grew two heads, it’s a fucking song Matt.”

“I know that. But damn, such a sexual song… Why?” He says in a teasing tone.

“Shut. Up.” I speak “So what if I like songs that have very sexual meaning? They’re good songs.” I say sounding kind of timid.

“Hey, I’m not denying that they’re good songs I’m just saying… They suit you. Don’t hurt me.” He says teasingly.

“Oh, shut up I’m not going to hurt you.” I say chuckling softly.

“Is that your fucked up way of saying you care about me?” Matt says in a teasing tone once again, I look up and throw a fry at him and chuckle. He chuckles as well before getting the French fry and popping it in his mouth. He swallows and a moment of complete silence takes over. He looks at me, scanning over my face.

“You’re gorgeous…” He murmurs. I blush slightly at his words

“Thanks…” I murmur back.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

I look at him and furrow my brows.

“What…?” Is the only word that comes out of my mouth. I am shocked and taken aback by this. He leans forward and takes his hand in mine.

“Can I kiss you?” He repeats.

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. He suddenly stands up, still holding my hand, he drags me out of the cafeteria and into the nearest storage closet. He pushes me against the wall, his body flush against mine. He cups my jaw and makes me look up at him then kisses me softly. My eyes widen, normally I would push him off and probably slap him across the face but this… This feels sort of… Right? I kiss him back. He hums as soon as he feels my lips moving against his, he whispers against my lips.

“I knew you couldn’t resist…” He whispers before kissing me again. Our lips moving in perfect sync before he traces his tongue against my bottom lip, silently asking for more access to my mouth. I part my lips enough to let his tongue in. He slides his tongue in my mouth and suddenly grabs my hips, lifting me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, he sets me down on a nearby counter. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine trying to catch his breath.

“The things I want to do to you…” He whispers.

MATT’S POV:

It’s been a week since we kissed in the janitor’s closet… I don’t regret it I never will but, she hasn’t talked to me since the kiss happened. I don’t know what’s going on. She seemed so into the kiss and now she’s pushing me away. Not that I was close to her in the first place. I want to go to her place and just watch her. Figure out why she’s shutting me out, but I don’t. She probably needs her space.

It’s morning and I notice that you are wearing a very oversized hoodie with the hood on to cover your face, I don’t think much of it. I walk up to you and pat your shoulder softly causing you to flinch. I furrow my brows at your flinch and grab your arm and turn you around.

“Why’d you flinch like that? It’s just me.” I ask

“No reason.” You respond

I pull the hood from your head and make you look up at me, my eyes widen then I see your face covered in cuts and bruises. My expression goes from soft to furious in a millisecond.

“Who did this to you?!” I say cupping your cheek.

“No one. Don’t worry about it.” You say coldly and remove my hand from your cheek as you start to walk. Before you get too far, I grab your arm and pull you back against my chest.

“Y/n… What happened?” I say firmly into your ear.

You sigh as you start talking “Can we go somewhere private?” You ask softly, I nod and lead you to my car. Once we’re there I open the passenger seat for you to get in, once you get in I go to the drivers seat of the car. Once settled I look at you with worry, remorse and adoration in my eyes.

“These were from my dad…” You say softly, not looking at me and fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Your dad…?” I whisper softly

“Let me finish…” You said.

“My dad… Isn’t exactly the loving type, he’s abusive and beats the hell out of my siblings and I… He’s a shitty dad, he handed us off to family services for years so that he can run drugs with the Bianchi family-” I interrupt you

“Sorry… Bianchi family?”

“The Bianchi’s… They’re one of the biggest mafia families. My dad handed my siblings and I off to family services so that he can work for them. When he got us back, he made us all get high and shitfaced, but I refused, he beat the shit out of me and made me do it. From that day forward he has been intense, abusive and just plain insane. Yesterday he beat the shit out of me because he wanted to sell my body for extra cash, and I refused… Now I look horrible, I covered what I could with makeup but… I still look rough.” You explain and my expression darkens. I want to kill your dad, no one should treat an angel like you like that.

“You’re beautiful… Even covered in bruises you look beautiful. And as for your dad… He’s a total prick. I’m not going to let you get hurt by him or anyone anymore, you’re mine to hold, to love, to protect, to kiss and especially to fuck.”

You chuckle bitterly

“You’re still on that? Your dead set on fucking me, huh?” You said.

“Yeah. Of course, I am.” I respond.

You lean back into the seat and I lean in and kiss your shoulder to you neck then ear. “Let me show you how beautiful you are…” I whisper seductively in your ear before biting your earlobe. You tilt you head to the side, giving me more access to your neck, I continue kissing your neck as you speak. Your voice dropping to a whisper.

“Fuck, Matt.” You whisper as your eyes flutter close.

I move my hand to your thigh, gripping it. I then move your head to look at me. My eyes scan your face.

“You’re so beautiful…” I say before kissing you harshly

Y/N’S POV:

I kiss him back, shifting my body to fully face him, his hands go to my hips but in a failed attempt to pull me closer he breaks the kiss and reclines his seat. My eyes widen and he grabs my hips and pulls me across the gearshift to sit on his lap, he leans up and kisses me again. I kiss him back; his hand goes to the back of my head to pull me down with him as he lays flat against the reclined seat. He bucks his hips up to allow me to feel his bulge against my core. My hips grow a mind of their own and I grind down on him. He lets out a guttural moan from the back of his throat the sound being muffled by my lips against his.

After a few moments I keep grinding on him as we make out. Suddenly his hands go to my hips stopping my movements and he breaks the kiss. I sit up and look down at him with a confused expression on my face.

“What? Why’d you stop.” I ask, honestly kind of frustrated that he stopped.

“I can’t do this…” He says.

“Seriously?” I say as I start to move from his lap. His grip tightens around my hips keeping me in the same position on his lap.

“You didn’t let me finish… I can’t do this, in the front seat, it’s too uncomfortable. Let’s move to the back.”

Without letting me respond he shifts and pulls his seat back up, he goes to the backseat and pulls me with him, he pulls me onto the seat, laying me across all three backseats of the car. He grabs my wrists and pins them on the sides of my head. He kisses me roughly then moves to kiss my neck, his hands slipping under my hoodie and starts to pull it up. Once it’s high enough he pulls it over my head and discards it somewhere on the floor. He slips out of his own shirt and takes a moment to look at upper body with only a bra on. He moves his hands to the straps of my bra and pulls them down my shoulders. I lifted my back enough for him to unhook my bra. Once unhooked he throws it on the floor where my hoodie was. His head moves to kiss my neck again.

His head moves lower to my chest, and he kisses both of my tits, then he starts sucking the left one and fondling the right one with his hand, the action causes a moan to escape from me. I feel him smirk against my nipple, he sucks for a few moments before moving to the right one to give it the same amount of love. He kisses my sternum then looks at me.

“You’re gorgeous.” He says before kissing me. His hands go to unbuckle his belt, and he pulls his pants down enough to reveal his lengthy erection that was dripping in pre-cum. My eyes widen at the view.

“Like what you see?” He says in a teasing tone.

“Shut the fuck up.” I say as I move to take off my own pants. He chuckles and practically yanks the pants and underwear off.

He aligns himself to my entrance before moving in, not giving me time to get used to his length before he starts moving. I moan loudly, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Matt! Too much, too much!” I moan out in pain and pleasure.

“Shh, you can do it. Just take it all.” He whispers encouraging me to take all of his very very big dick…

“Put on music.” He orders as his dick pumps in and out of my pussy.

“Now?” I ask in a ‘seriously?’ tone

“Yes now, I want to fuck you to the beat of the music.”

I reach over and grab his phone. He tells me the password and I put on a song that I think would fit the situation ‘The Walls’ by Chase Atlantic, while I was putting the song on Matt hits my G-spot and I moan loudly. Then the music starts playing, Matt smirks.

“Good choice baby I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

He says before he starts moving along to the beat of the song. Hard and fast, with each movement I moan.

“Matt, I can’t take it anymore.” I whimper.

His eyes darkened. The answering growl is feral and vicious. And all it does is heighten the pleasure radiating from where our bodies connect. His arm circles around my waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts me up and twists us, so he is sitting on the seat again while I straddle his lap. When he grabs my waist and yanks me down on his cock, my eyes pop open wide. This new angle has him far deeper than before—a lot deeper than I thought my body was capable of taking. “Matt!” I gasp, my nails now digging into his shoulders. “Ride me, baby. I want to feel your pussy grip every inch of my cock.” “Fuck, I can’t,” I groan, my body still working to adjust to the sheer size of this man. “You have five seconds before I rearrange your organs,” he threatens. It does the job, kicking my ass into high gear and immediately rising up and sliding back down slowly. After a few different readjustments, I finally find an angle that allows me to completely seat myself on Matt without feeling him come up my throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons into my ear. “Your sweet little pussy is gripping my cock so fucking tight.”

After a few moments I come, when he notices he smirks and kisses me gently

“Good girl.’’ He praises and after a few moments he gets close enough and pulls me off of his lap to allow him to come without spilling his seed inside of me. I sit on the seat trying to catch my breath. Listening to the music that was playing while we did that. The song that was playing was ‘Jennifer’s Body’ by Plvtinum ft. Chris Grey and Dutch Melrose. Matt looks over and smiles.

“This song accurately describes how I feel about you.”

I roll my eyes and move to put my clothes back on.

“Don’t expect me to do that again… I was vulnerable.”

“Yeah, vulnerable looks good on you, maybe you should you know… Not box your emotions all the time, talk to people, talk to me. I’ll always be here for you… Always.”

MATT’S POV:

Somehow, I convinced you to sleep with me. In my house, in my room with me. Nick and Chris were concerned, they didn't necesarily want you in our house but did I give a fuck? No. I wasn’t going to let you sleep in that house with your dad.

I was awake. You had fallen asleep with a book in your lap a few hours ago, who knew you liked reading? I took the book and marked the page you was on, placed it on the nightstand next to my bed and laid next to you spooning you as I try to fall asleep myself. I can’t… I turn over and pick up my phone looking at the time, 1:14 in the morning. I look over at you and sigh, looking at your bruises and cuts that were scabbing over left from where you dad hit you. I feel a surge of anger when I see it. I stand up, put on my shoes and go downstairs, I find Chris laying on the couch with his phone in his hand scrolling through it.

He looks up as he hears me enter the room he notices my shoes his brow furrows, “going somewhere?” he asks, his voice groggily from lack of sleep. “Just a little walk. I need to clear my mind.” I respond. He nods and goes back to his phone. After a second he asked me, “and... Y/n?” “She’s fine just sleepin’ in my room.” I walk past him and head out the front door. I walk around the neighborhood before leaving the neighborhood.

I walked to Y/n’s house. The thought of beating up your dad hasn’t left my mind, so I decided to make it a reality. I didn’t necessarily want to, I mean I was terrified of the man but I couldn’t hold myself back it was like my feet had a mind of their own. I get to your house and go through the same window I went through the first time I came over. I immediately saw your dad knocked out on the couch surrounded by beer bottles. Another surge of anger flows through me. That was the man who hurt the angel that is Y/n. I shake my head and walk over to him; I tap his shoulder to wake him up. The man groans then wakes up, looking at how I am towering over him. He furrows his brows looking up at me. My eyes immediately darken I would normally never do this, but for you...? I'll do damn near anything.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

“Y/n’s friend.”

The man immediately sits up.

“Tell me where she is… We have some ‘business’ to attend to as soon as possible.”

“No.” I snap, knowing ‘business’ he was talking about.

The man stands up and grabs me by my shirt collar pulling me closer roughly.

“Who do you think you are? Tell me where my daughter is now.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I step on his foot, and he pushes me against the wall. I grunt and quickly go to punch the man in the face. He punches me back; I grab one of the beer bottles and smash it over his head. He throws me, I land on the coffee table, the glass breaking below me. He grabs my shirt collar again and punches me. I feel that my lip is starting to bleed. I grab his shirt collar and punch him back he lifts me up and slams me back down, I grunt, he punches me again.

And it darkens.

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sunshine-theseus · 1 year ago

Text

That One Cat Meme | Ona Batlle x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: Ona gets angry when you randomly disappear but it’s hard not to find her adorable Warnings: idk overstimulation? Hints of being neurodivergent – based on my experiences as someone who gets very overstimulated and loves routine/thinks they’re ND but isn’t diagnosed with anything. Requested by - @dandelionlibrary - i really hope you like it!

It was a mistake. A very, very big mistake. There was so much noise and light, and people were basically stuck together like glue. It was hot too. How is anyone supposed to survive in this place?

The team had begged me to join them, just once, for a celebratory drink at a club in the heart of Barcelona. After months of refusing, always coming up with excuses and waiting for Ona to arrive home in the sunless hours of the morning, I finally caved. I regretted it the moment the uber turned onto the street. Lights were flashing through the windows and the music could be heard down the block. People were lined up as far as the eye could see. There was no way I was going to have fun.

But I went.

In the beginning it wasn’t so bad. Ona was with me at all times, and we spent a lot of time in our reserved, spacious corner of the club. Until Lucy and Keira grabbed us both by our hands and dragged us onto the dance floor. I tried to wriggle free, but their determination was enough to overpower a tipsy Ona and a vulnerable me.

“Isn’t this fun!?” Ona yells into my ear. I try not to flinch at the additional noise as I nod my head.

A lie.

“Muy divertido!” (very fun)

There was a small moment where I managed to slip away into the bathroom. By some miracle it was empty and seemed rather clean for a night club, so I locked myself in a stall and just sat on top of a toilet lid. I tried to monitor my breathing and block out the bass that travelled through the floor. I couldn’t survive much longer. I needed to come up with an excuse to leave.

I slowly emerge from the bathroom and go find the group of girls huddled in the corner. I had an excuse fully prepared but as I’m making my way, someone grabs me by the waist and starts kissing my neck. I’m about to turn around and wack them with my purse when they begin to talk.

“Mi vida! Where did you go?” the familiar deep voice of my girlfriend echoes from behind me and I relax.

I stop my shaking hands by placing them over her own that rest on my hips.

“Just the bathroom. I think I’m going to head home.” I turn and give her a smile that clearly doesn’t reach my eyes.

She says something else to me, but I can’t focus on anything specific, everything was too overwhelming. Eventually Ona walks off and I’m left in the middle of a crowd again. I can feel every place on my skin where someone makes contact with me, my clothes aren’t sitting well anymore, there are too many sounds, the lights hurt my eyes. I had to get out.

That’s how I found myself curled up in a ball on the rather small balcony of Ona and my apartment. My noise cancelling headphones were securely on my head and I’d successfully rid myself of the horrendously tight and itchy club clothes, switching into one of Ona’s oversized jumpers and some shorts. My phone was turned off and I was just embracing the small bouts of wind and the barely visible stars in the dark night sky.

I don’t expect my girlfriend to be home until much later, so I eventually tuck myself in under the blankets. I loved our bed; it was a lot less overstimulating than a club and usually had the girl of my dreams to hold me tight. Despite the missing final aspect, I drift off to sleep.

I wake up late, Ona by my side as expected. The day off means that my schedule is simply pushed back a few hours and I have spare time to fill.

9:30am – wake up

9:36am – have breakfast + talk to Ona

10:05am – shower and get ready for the day

The middle of the day’s schedule on days off changes depending on who I’m meeting or what I plan on doing. Most of the time it involves Ona.

But Ona didn’t emerge from the room at 9:40am like she usually does, instead showing her face at almost 10. I decide I can push back my day just once to still fit our morning talk. She doesn’t greet me first. Perhaps it’s the hangover, they often mess with our order. She also doesn’t kiss me on the cheek or offer me the glass of orange juice she does every morning, despite always already having a glass in front of me.

“What’s wrong bebé?” the older girl says nothing as she sits down at the table with a bowl to fruit and a glass of water. Odd. Not her normal hangover cure.

“I don’t have anything planned for today so we can just turn the lights off and watch a movie? If your head’s hurting.” I can see her lips twitch at the suggestion, but her face remains stoic.

“Okay, I’m going to have a shower. Maybe we can talk about what’s bothering you afterward?” once again, no reply.

I do just as I tell Ona. The shower is set to the correct temperature and my clothes don’t make me feel like I’m suffocating once I get out. I grab some pillows and blankets to lay out on the couch and turn off the lights, settling for the small lamps on either side of the living room. The curtains help block out the sunlight that would be streaming through the windows.

Ona is still sat at the table, fruit and water finished, scrolling on her phone.

“Coriño? Con qué película quieres empezar?” (Honey? What movie do you want to start with).

Usually, I would avoid encroaching on someone’s personal space when they are upset without them asking, but Ona made it very clear physical touch was something she embraced at all times. That’s what lead me to wrap my arms around her shoulders and press kisses to her cheek gently. Hoping for some reaction.

The only thing I get in return is her arms stubbornly crossing over her chest and her lips forming a pout.

Adorable.

“Are you mad at me coriño?” another kiss is placed at the curve of her jaw.

Her lips pull taut and her cheeks flush pink. It’s hard to be intimidated by someone so cute.

“Sí.” She stands abruptly and the sound of the chair scraping against our wood floor makes me feel sick.

“You disappeared last night without telling anyone. And then you didn’t answer any of my texts! Or the girl’s! Yes, I am angry because I was worried mi vida!” Ona’s arms once again cross over her chest and her foot stamps against the ground.

Despite the sight, I begin to feel bad.

“Ona… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I got overstimulated. Everything was just too much. But I told you I was going to go when we talked outside the bathroom.” A look of confusion is clear on her face, and I sigh, approaching her again.

“You asked me where I had been, I told you I went to the bathroom and that I think I needed to go home. I don’t blame you for forgetting, you’d had a few drinks, no thanks to Mapi.”

“Yo soy estúpida. I am sorry for being angry and ignoring you. And I’m sorry I forced you to go somewhere I knew would probably make you overstimulated.” (I am stupid). Ona’s head dramatically falls forward onto my chest as she groans.

“It’s okay. You’re very adorable when you’re angry.” I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“No I am not!”

“Sí! Yes you are! You pout and cross your arms and you even stamp your foot. Tu tambien eres muy pequeña.” (you’re also very small). I pull away from Ona and smile at the blush that still radiates from her cheeks.

“You remind me of that little kitten meme.”

“What?” I pull out my phone and search for the photo I have in mind.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Just that you look very cute.” Another groan falls from her lips, and I laugh as I drag her to the couch.

She falls on top of me and I wrap my arms tightly around her, pressing kisses all around her face.

“You have to watch that silly adventure man movie with me.”

“Indiana Jones? You know I hate that guy. He’s so stupid.”

“But I like him, and you caused me great distress!” her laugh slips past her lips and I can’t help but smile and oblige with her request.

“You can only milk that so many times.”

“Mmmhmm.” Her head props up by her chin resting on my chest, and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Te amo coriño.” I smile brightly down at her as the opening music plays.

“Te amo mi vida.”

Ona turns her head to watch the silly movie, but I can’t look away from her. Her freckles seem to shine brighter despite the lack of light and the slope of her nose is so delicate. The way her eyelashes kiss her cheeks and lines appear by her lips when she laughs at some stupid joke. Her hair is in a messy bun, yet she still looks put together.

I can’t help but fall in love with her all over again.

@Y/N_L/N

@Y/N_L/N do you guys see the resemblance?

ona.batlle there is literally no resembilence stop marialeonn16 i see it

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #la liga f #spain wnt

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flowerxbunnie · 1 year ago

Note

can you write ab my matty pooh? like he’s streaming, you come in and everything’s chill at first but then you start getting frisky so he has to turn camera off and mute mic. then y’all do it and have some freaky sex, but afterwards you find out he fucked up and didn’t mute it, and everyone heard you freaks pls 🧎🏻‍♀️

Quiet

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: SMUTTY smut smut smut

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR.

@lustfulslxt I changed it up a little bit from the request I don’t think you’ll mind 🤭🫶🏻

“FUCK DUDE. I knew he was gonna peek around the corner this game is BULLSHIT.”

I hear Matt’s hands slam into his desk for the millionth time tonight, the walls and my headphones muffling his noise, but not nearly enough. I swear he’s always the loudest when I’m trying to focus on something.

“Shut the fuck up Matt, I’m trying to enjoy my movie!” I yell, banging my fist on the wall that separates our rooms.

“Sorry Y/n!” He yells back, then speaks normally, “my roommate told me I’m being too loud boys. NO not my brothers dumbass, why would I call them roommates? ….I don’t know I think they’re at some meeting?….Yeah they’ll be on later I’m sure.”

I hear his one sided conversation, the other voices confined into his headset. I hit play on my movie and shove some more kettle corn into my mouth.

“NO! FUCK THIS GUY HE HAS TO HAVE HACKS ON THERES ACTUALLY NO WAY.”

I hit pause and stand up, too frustrated to try and talk to him through a wall again. I throw my bowl onto my bed, not even caring about the spill of crumbs, and yank my door open to head to his room next door. I don’t even knock as I barge in, stomping my way over to him as he pulls the headset off of one ear.

“Matthew Bernard. What do you not understand about quiet time after 6?”

I can hear the voices on the other side of his headset now, not sure how he isn’t deaf at this point with how loud he has it.

“Mommy come to quiet you down Matty?” “Oooh someone’s in trouble..” they laugh and go on teasing him.

“Hang on boys.” He presses a button on the microphone and it goes red as he tosses his headset onto the desk.

“Y/n that is so fucking embarrassing. You don’t have to barge in like I’m some little kid and yell at me like that.” Matt says, rolling his chair back to scoot further away from the desk.

“We have literally talked about this so many times Matthew. After 6 is the only time it’s quiet in this house. I’m literally just trying to watch Titanic and I can’t hear shit over your fucking toddler tantrums.”

“Titanic? Like we haven’t all seen that together 50 times? I’m pretty sure I could watch that on mute and still know exactly what’s going on,” he argues, throwing his hands up.

“That’s not the fucking point, dude. I literally can’t even hear my own thoughts with how loud you’re being. You could also wake up old people in the neighborhood or… something, I don’t even know. Just please keep it the fuck down.”

“Keep it the fuck down, huh?” he questions sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs out, interlocking his hands behind his head. “These walls are pretty thin, sweetheart, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you partaking in some not so quiet activities after 6 before.”

My face immediately flushes and I can feel how red I am. I blink a couple times at him before I start to get angry again.

“What the fuck are you talking about Matthew? You’re actually disgusting.”

“I didn’t think it was too disgusting. I just think it’s funny that you’re all over my ass about keeping it down when I can hear you touching yourself nearly every other night.”

As if I couldn’t turn more red, my ears start to throb from the blood flow spreading across my body. I can’t even think of anything to say, so I don’t.

“What’s wrong, Y/n? Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you dude, that’s actually so wrong to bring up.” I shake my head at him.

“What baby? I thought we were just airing out our concerns about quiet time.” He bites his tongue and I see it press against the inside of his cheek. “You know, it really disturbs my peace when I have to hear you in there, rolling around on your bed and making those pretty little noises. Probably making such a mess of yourself huh?”

Fuck, why am I getting turned on by him? He’s being such an asshole. But even so, I can’t help but notice the creeping warmth between my thighs.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Matthew, but can you please just talk at a normal volume with your friends so I can enjoy my movie?” I say, starting to turn around and walk out.

His hand reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me back to face him with a dead look in his eyes.

“Sit on my desk.”

“What the fuck kind of question is that? I’m not-” I get half of my argument out before I’m cut off by his hands grabbing my hips and lifting me off the ground, sitting me down onto his desk, knocking over multiple things in the process.

“It wasn’t a question.” he responds, scooting his chair closer to me and parting my thighs to sit between them.

I’m looking down at him, one of my best friends, his eyes completely different and darker than I’ve ever seen them before.

“What are you doing Matt?” I whisper, feeling his warm hands slide up my thighs and stop at the hem of my silk shorts, his fingers toying with them.

“You seem so serious about me keeping the noise down. I just wanna see how good you can be at it.”

My breath hitches as one of his hands resume its movement and starts to crawl up my shorts agonizingly slow. The other hand comes up to the back of my head, lacing into my hair and pulling me down face to face with him.

His lips ghost at my ear and I can hear his deep breathing. “You just have to let me know if you want to try.”

He pulls me back to make eye contact and I nod, watching as the devilish grin spreads across his face.

“You’re already so good at this baby.”

He brings his face close to mine, my lips aching to feel his but he never closes the distance. I open my mouth to complain, but remember not to because I want to win this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

He rubs the soft skin of his bottom lip against my top lip with as little pressure as possible and I feel my heat throbbing in anticipation of his next move. His hands trail farther up my shorts as his breath fans over my face, our lips still hovering apart. He explores for my underwear and his hands abruptly stop as he feels just skin.

“No panties? Such a little slut, Y/n.” he says before connecting our lips in a slow, heated kiss. We kiss with such passion and need, like if we stopped the Earth would stop turning. Our tongues dance together as his hands make their way back down my thighs before coming up and brushing against the waistband of my shorts.

“You want me to take them off, don’t you?”

I nod, scooting my hips closer to him to make it easier.

“Tell me how bad you want it, baby. You want me to take them off and touch you here?” He slides his hand down and rubs impossibly slow over my burning core through my shorts, trying to tempt me to break and talk.

I let out the quietest whimper possible, wanting so badly to be able to tell him all the filthy things I need from him.

“Hmm? Nothing to say?” He tilts his head and continues rubbing me, before sarcastically adding, “oh yeah, it’s quiet time isn’t it?”

He chuckles at himself and hooks his fingers into my waistband before pulling them down and off of me, parting my thighs again to return to his spot.

“Look at that, all wet for me. I’ve barely even touched you, baby.” He says in a fake sympathetic tone.

Before I can process what’s happening, his head dips down and he begins lapping at my pussy, his tongue giving the perfect amount of warmth and pressure to draw a moan out of me.

“Oh sweet girl, we have to keep it down. Don’t you remember?” He starts licking again as soon as he finishes his question, and I can’t help but to bring my hands into his hair and pull, needing some kind of release since I can’t make noise.

My hips involuntarily buck towards him to get him as close to me as I can- so close I can feel his nose brush against my clit. He swirls his tongue in delicious circles and at some point I swear I can feel him use his tongue to trace the letters of his name into my pussy.

My stomach is tightening and my head is thrown back, and I don’t know if I can keep up this quiet game for much longer. It’s becoming almost impossible because his fingers are now trailing their way up to my bikini line, teasing my skin in the best way. His fingers slowly find a place to rest against my entrance and his eyes flicker up to meet mine. His pupils are dilated and his eyelids are half closed, the look of need on his face.

“Want me to make you cum, baby?” he asks in a raspy and low voice.

I test the waters with confidence and answer, “P-please Matt.”

His hand draws back and I feel a sting as he slaps my pussy, the mix of pleasure and pain almost too good.

“I thought we talked about staying quiet, Y/n? You’re not being a very good girl for me right now.” He almost hisses, his eyes darkening.

“I was going to let you cum all over my fingers,” he starts, standing up from his spot and I want to whine at the loss of contact so bad. “But I think I’ll just fuck you and see if you can prove yourself.”

He grabs my waist and pulls me off the desk onto my feet, pushing his chair back to make enough room to spin me around and bend me over the desk. His hand comes down to slap my ass hard enough to make me jump and suck in a breath.

“You think you can keep that pretty little mouth shut this time?” He leans down as he whispers into my ear.

I nod furiously and throw my head down onto the desk with a thud, my frustration growing as my pussy is dripping at this point. I feel his fingers running up and down my folds before they are pulled away, and shortly after I hear his pants hitting the floor. I turn my head around and I’m met with him pumping his cock using my juices as lubrication. I almost drool at the sight, biting my lip and staring into his eyes.

“Arch up a little for me baby.”

I do as I’m told, laying my head back down and standing on my tiptoes with my chest pressed against the desk. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my ass, spreading me open for him before his head makes the slightest contact with my entrance.

I’m biting my lip so hard to keep the noises in that I can taste an iron like taste- I’m honestly pathetic, drawing my own blood to keep quiet for him. He pushes into me and I feel myself stretching around his dick, causing my hips to twitch and jerk at the pain.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I just know your pussy will be so perfect for me. I’m gonna make it fit.” He says in a sickly sweet voice before spitting onto the spot where our bodies have become one.

He pushes deeper into me, his warm saliva allowing him to bottom out and his hips to sit flush against my ass.

“Holy fuck, so tight baby. So so perfect for me, just like I knew it would be.” he moans as he begins pumping himself in and out of me.

All I can do is sit there and take it, trying my hardest to contain myself. All I want to do is scream his name and tell him how fucking good this feels.

Both of his hands rest on my hips, his rings digging into my skin as he holds me in place. I can hear him cursing and moaning as he speeds up his pace and his pressure.

“Why aren’t you saying anything, sweetheart? Oh, right…” he mocks before pushing as deep as he could into me and holding it for a second, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spot.

I whimper in reaction and brace in anticipation of his large hand to smack my ass, but it doesn’t happen.

I turn around to see his lust filled eyes staring back at me.

“Fuck this stupid game, I need to hear more of those pretty little noises.” He says before picking his pace back up, slamming in and out of me hard enough to knock his headset and microphone off the desk.

“FUCK Matt, please please don’t stop, pleeeease,” I draw out, gripping the back edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white. I whimper and whine freely, no longer scared of the repercussions of the dumb game we had started.

“Fuck, you make me wanna do horrible nasty things, Y/n. I just want to ruin you for everyone else. Need that pussy to belong to me.” he pants out, his grip on my hips deepening and his thrusts becoming sloppy as his legs begin to shake.

My stomach tightens after his possessive thoughts spill from his lips.

“I’m all yours, Matt. F-fuck, all yours baby.” I moan out before beginning to throw my hips back halfway to meet his tired thrusts.

“I know you’ve wanted this as long as I have, tell me how bad you needed me, baby.” he leans down to whisper into my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

“I t-touch myself thinking of you, Matt. I’ve needed you for so long,” I admit.

His dick throbs inside of me, threatening his release at any second. I feel my pussy clench around him as my own high approaches, earning a deep growl from him before he grits his teeth and says, “Let me cum in you, please I need to, Y/n.”

“Fuck Matt please,” I moan out as I feel myself topple over the edge, waves of pleasure taking over as I grind my hips back into him. Soon after, I feel his warm release pumping deep into me and my name rolling off his tongue as if he’s in a trance. His thrusts die down and we both sigh as we come out the other side of our orgasms together.

He collapses down onto me before pushing himself back up to keep his weight from crushing me into the desk. His lips leave soft kisses across my shoulder blades as we both try to catch our breath, sweat glistening on our bodies. He pulls himself out of me slowly before lifting me off the desk, a much more tender side of him coming back to the surface.

We share a few soft kisses and caress each other, both taking in what just happened.

Our heads snap to the side as we hear muffled talking, worried Nick and Chris came home. Matt hurries to the window in a panic, peeking out the blinds before turning back to me.

“I don’t know what the fuck we both just heard, but I’m pretty sure they’re still gone.” He exhales deeply before reaching down to pick up the items that had fallen off his desk in our careless moments.

I gasp as he throws the headset violently to the ground and scurries away, a look of panic written across his face.

“Y/n the fucking mic is on..” he says as the blood drains from his face.

“What the fuck.. how? I watched you mute it!” I slap my hands to my face, the most embarrassing pit forming in my stomach.

“I guess when it fell off the desk? I have no fucking clue,” he whispers.

I sigh and walk over to the headset and press it against my ear, hearing tons of remarks and laughter from Matt’s friends on the other side.

“I really didn’t think he’d ever get to hit! Props to him though, he’s been in love with her forever I swear.”

“Fuck Matt please don’t stop please!!” Another voice mocks in their best girly voice.

“You gotta take care of this one, Matty. I’m gonna shower and finish my movie,” I say, handing him the headset and placing one more kiss on his lips before smiling and grabbing my shorts to head out the door. I turn around giggling and say one more thing that I have to get out.

“Remember to keep it down this time, please.”

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader

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causenessus · 7 months ago

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cold kisses

part 0.2. TOO MANY COOKS

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . dark red by steve lacy

“and you’re sure you don’t want me to come in?” hajime’s eyes are pointed, narrowed on her as if he doesn’t believe her.

“if the fire department hasn’t come yet then we’ve avoided the worst case scenario,” she reassures him again with a smile. “thanks for keeping me company, haji. i’m pretty sure i would've lost it when i saw atsumu if you weren't there.”

his face twists in annoyance at the mention, “yeah.”

they’re standing outside her door as the conversation goes silent. no sounds reach her ears from behind the door either. “they are a little quiet–but maybe they’ve already cleaned up,” as soon as the words come out of her mouth they both laugh.

"i think it's more likely they all created some sort of chemical reaction and passed out but we'll give them the benefit of the doubt. call me if you need anything,” he gives her a nod before turning to make his way back to his dorm on campus. she watches him turn the corner before she unlocks the door with her keys, preparing herself for what awaits her.

as soon as she opens the door, her nose scrunches. the smell coming from what could only be the kitchen hits her instantly. she thinks it's savory first before it becomes overwhelmingly heavy and bitter as if someone had attempted to bake something but burned it to ashes. she slips off her shoes quickly, about to turn the corner when a bang against the wall makes her jump. a decoration around the wall shakes right next to her face and it catches her eyes before something hard hits the floor in front of her.

she accidentally screams, seeing oikawa’s body on the ground. there's a blindfold wrapped around his head and he doesn't move to take it off.

“oh my god.”

she almost thinks she's about to start crying as she kneels next to him. did he just die?

but then she sees the rapid fall and rise of her chest and lets out a shaky sigh. her hand reaches for her phone to call hajime but then stops. maybe she could call an ambulance? or maybe the fire department should come after all? then she hears a noise from the kitchen. she needs to check on kuroo and kenma first before calling anyone.

she tries her best to steadily rise to her feet again. pressing a hand against the wall to momentarily stabilize and prepare herself. she apologizes to oikawa quietly as she steps over his body, praying kenma and kuroo aren’t cooking blindfolded as well. she almost doubles over, imagining the kitchen being painted red and a knife somewhere on the floor.

she’s careful to look out for anyone else blindly running into the walls as she steps through the hallway, taking it slow and quietly towards the kitchen.

then she can hear kuroo.

“WHAT? I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO TRY SOMETHING DIFFERENT!”

he’s yelling so loud she cringes, stopping for a second. she thinks she can hear a second voice as well, but just barely. as if they're talking in an entirely different room.

the closer she gets, the more it sounds like someone nearby is trying to talk but it’s being muffled by something. she turns the corner and the bright lights of the kitchen contrast the shadowed hallway she just snuck through.

her shoulders momentarily relax, seeing that there’s nothing red in sight.

well, actually, scratch that.

the kitchen is dusted in white like someone arbitrarily threw flour and two boys are standing in her kitchen in matching red tracksuits.

they decided to cook in their gym clothes from high school? despite her best attempts, she's never been able to convince them to harbor even the slightest bit of sentimentality whatsoever. she liked wearing kenma's jacket when he let her, but she wasn't entirely sure it would survive the night.

her eyes are drawn back to the two figures as kuroo starts yelling again, most likely due to the headphones on his head. she can’t see kenma; his back is turned towards her but he’s waving his hands around and she can’t hear him if he is saying anything. from what she can gauge, he's not blindfolded or acting as if he's hard of hearing, though.

oh.

then she pieces it together.

she’s seen this trend on one of her many doomscrolls.

three people cooking, one person deaf, one mute, and one blind.

and they've lost their blind person.

and kuroo can’t hear but kenma can’t even talk anyway.

she almost wants to turn around and leave; pull out oikawa with her and maybe they can make it back to hajime's dorm and pretend they don't know what's going on her apartment. she thinks about going back just to take the poor blindfold off his face.

then something loud is ringing. she almost thinks it’s the smoke alarm finally kicking in but it’s just the oven going off.

kenma and kuroo don’t notice it over their attempt to communicate with each other. she decides kuroo gets the benefit of the doubt since he can’t hear anyway but either kenma or her need to do something.

she can see faint smoke start to curl out of the oven and if the smoke alarm's going to kick in soon she'll end up stealing kuroo's headphones just to keep her sanity. she yells for kenma but he doesn't hear her over kuroo and the oven alarm.

she starts to make her way towards them, careful to step as carefully as she can through the flour–and was that a broken egg on the floor? she tries to keep herself focused on the task at hand, not even thinking about the camera set up in front of their countertop.

she almost trips, not seeing a stray cord on the floor underneath everything else littered on the floor. kenma finally seems to hear her when she squeaks and turns around quickly, catching her in his arms before she falls. then his eyes are wide and he’s trying to say something but there’s duct tape on his mouth.

“the oven!” she shouts at him, not entirely sure if she's responding to whatever he's trying to say. but he won't take the hand off her wrist and she tries to push it off to get to the machine in question before she’s pulled back and spun around by arms around her waist.

“kenma what the hell?” she’s yelling at him.

he holds her face so that she’s looking at him and is shaking his head, pointing at the camera.

it was a sort of unspoken agreement, they both didn’t want her on his streams in order to keep a barrier between their personal lives and individual jobs. it was possible that things might get a little messy if it was revealed they were living together. the media would have a feast coming up with stories and scandals between then and the conservatives would accuse them of sacrilegious–the second part wasn't the worst-case scenario but it was more trouble than it was worth and they both decided it was just best for her to stay off camera.

kuroo finally looks up from a vegetable he's been trying his hardest to cut with a serrated butter knife and sees her. his face lightens up, "Y/N?–"

“NO!” she yells over him, trying to prevent the stream from picking up her name.

kenma removes an arm from around her to snap at him and get his attention before he points at the oven. he tried to speak through the tape, giving kuroo muffled directions as if they would ever reach him through his headphones.

kuroo nonetheless immediately nodded, giving him a thumbs up like he for once in the past several hours has finally understood something kenma has tried to tell him to do.

but none of them are thinking straight anymore.

or maybe, actually, none of them ever were.

kuroo opens the oven and it doesn’t click that there’s hot air blowing in his face and that he’s reaching out into said hot hair with a bare hand.

"kuroo oh my god," she sobs, not even trying to hide it anymore. she covers her face with her hands and can't bring herself to yell anymore.

he grabs the dish and then immediately snatches his hand back, screaming out a string of curses while the pitch-black concoction in the baking dish falls off the rack to the bottom of the oven.

kenma’s grip has loosened on her in his own state of shock and the camera is the least of her concerns when someome just burned himself like an absolute idiot. she pulls forward to grab kuroo’s hand, looking at how much damage he did to it.

“you all are so fucking stupid,” she can only chide, barely keeping herself together. kuroo hisses as she turns over his hand, making sure he didn’t injure himself anywhere else.

she hears kenma from the other side of the counter, most likely shutting off the stream equipment and kuroo finally takes off the headphones.

he walks back around the counter and she looks up at him. he's ripped the duct tape off his mouth and is running a hand through his hair, trying to give her a small smile.

he looks exhausted and she feels more than exhausted, dealing with this after everything else today. but his smile makes her feel a bit better so she returns it.

“sorry–that was a lot,” he talks softly, and she thinks it’s just nice that she can finally understand what he’s saying. “i was just trying to keep you off camera but that's all kind of gone off the rails. i’ll help you clean up, promise. is there something you want me to do first?”

“check on oikawa please,” she sighs, standing up with kuroo, still holding onto his hand. “make sure he’s breathing and see if you can bring him here.”

she takes care of kuroo’s hand first, running cold water over it and scouring all of their bathroom cabinets for something to apply to the blisters on his hand. she grabs the first ointment she sees, dabbing it on and tries her best not to hurt kuroo before she wraps his hand tightly. then she directs him back to the kitchen, wiping down their seats and instructing him to sit down where she can see him.

kenma brings oikawa back into the kitchen, the blindfold loosened to hang around his neck and as soon as he sits back down he rests his head on his arms and passes out on the island again.

she’s already started to clean up as much as she can from their mess, starting with salvaging what ingredients she can and returning them back to where they belong when kenma comes up from behind her, rolling up his sleeves and tying back his hair.

“what do you want me to do now?” he asks, looking around the kitchen, gauging how much they’ll have to clean.

“can you sweep? i'll take care of the rest,” she replies, dumping a stack of dishes into the sink. there were miscellaneous tools out on the counter, like a potato masher she didn’t even know they owned or what they would have used it for, but she doesn't trust anything that's been in their hands today.

they work in silence, both kuroo and oikawa passed out at the island. kenma’s only a few feet from her, his back turned towards her before he begins to speak up, “sorry for everything again–and that you had to help. didn’t you have something important today?” he stops what he’s doing to look up to her, waiting for her answer.

“it’s okay,” she shakes her head, “honestly, now that the worst of it is over, it's kind of funny. and it’s distracting me from what i’m about to have to put up with for the next few months.”

his eyes brighten as he finally remembers what was announced today, “you got told told who your partner is for the olympics, right?” he’s holding onto the broom with both hands, face slightly resting on the handle of it, watching her as she washes dishes. the pile of flour near him has been completely forgotten about, but he’ll finish cleaning it up later.

“yeah, i don’t really want to talk about it right now though,” she shrugs, washing her hands before drying them off. she turns to face him, a smile on her face as she takes a few steps closer. “besides,” she leans forwards just a bit, brushing a stray bang that’s fallen out of his makeshift ponytail from his face, “i’m cleaning the kitchen with my roommate at midnight after he nearly killed himself and his two friends trying to make something, what more could i ask for?”

he suddenly feels warm under his zipped jacket and swallows the lump in his throat before looking away from her. his face is red and he plays with the zipper of his jacket, trying his best to casually cool off a little without making it obvious the effect she has on him.

he hears her laugh before she steps away back to the sink and he forces himself to go back to sweeping. he tries to focus on the moment in front him like she said; they’re cleaning their kitchen together at midnight. this is totally not a domestic moment that his friends would tease him about if they knew what they were doing right now.

but he can’t help but think the next few months are going to be drastically different for him after that stream.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE TAG :( i just decided it was best to remake this post so that everything worked properly I HOPE I FIXED ALL THE TYPOS OR I'LL CRY

it's like i never learned from when i told myself i should stop writing this stuff at 2 in the morning

i fr only did dark red for this post's song bc you can just imagine "is something bad about to happen" as y/n opens her door 💀

y/n and iwa were sitting in a little board discussion room with her manager waiting to meet who her partner would be

iwa was allowed to come in because at this point some of y/n's management thinks he's actually part of the team so when he showed up with her they were like "yeah okay chill 👍"

then atsumu walked in and it took everything in her and a look from iwa to not fall to the floor screaming no

she's been partnered with atsumu before and he's always touchy and flirty so she doesn't like him a whole lot

manager reveal soon hmmmm i wonder who it could possible be as if i didn't put that in the notes of this smau

y/n and iwa were literally tweeting and replying to each other while they were out eating ramen and he looked up at her and just gave her a disappointed sigh when he saw her reply about "are u saying yes to my proposal"

suna and noya were watching the stream in the library after school but as soon as kenma was gifted 1k subs and they saw the message and oikawa was like "yeah this is a great idea we should totally do this 🌸" suna shut it off and was like "i'm going home before i watch a murder play out"

i'm ngl it was imagining oikawa suddenly hit the floor like he just died that made me laugh to myself in a cafe 😭😭 like it should not be that funny but it is to me i'm sorry

despite everyone having their own dorm they often crash at each other's for no reason

y/n stays over at suna and iwa's dorm the most

kuroo and oikawa both come over to kenma and y/n's apartment a lot

everyone tries not to step foot in tsukki and noya's dorm

kenma's stream was already going pretty well because of how absolutely insane it was but a girl suddenly appearing and then kenma trying to stop her from entering the frame only made it blow up more

as soon as kuroo woke back up he discussed with oikawa and kenma that IF they were ever to do this again who would wear what

kenma immediately said kuroo was getting his mouth taped shut which is very valid because he yelled a lot

but oikawa couldn't be blindfolded again and kuroo was like "wow okay so you wanna be the one who can't see"

kenma never said no faster

conclusion: they're never doing that challenge again

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist (form to be added to taglist! <3)

#kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #ness' planet ⋆⭒˚.⋆

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rachalixie · 1 year ago

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a/n: teeny little jisung comfort. <3

warnings: mention of eating trouble, mention of mental health, gn!reader

it’s the kind of day where you haven’t been able to catch your breath fully. where your brain feels kind of fuzzy around the edges in a way that you can’t fully describe. where you just don’t feel right, up until you walk through the door and collapse into jisung’s arms, distracting him from whatever game he’s been playing with felix all day. he removes his headphones, mumbling a quick goodbye to felix, and his response goes unheard when he drops them to the floor and wraps his arms around you right away.

nothing feels right, you don’t have to say. i need you right now, you never have to voice. you’re the only comfort i have, goes understood without you having to open your mouth. all you have to do is hold onto him tighter and let out a wet sigh into his collar and he just knows. he knows you better than the back of his own hand; the number of times you’ve collapsed into him like this has trained him perfectly, just as the number of times he’s reached for you has trained you to know him just as well.

“food or bed?” he asks, voice almost at a whisper as he runs a hand up and down your back, blunt nails trailing in swirling lines that you can feel through your sweater. he knows that sometimes when you’re like this you can’t eat, and while he’s almost sure that this is one of those times he would never take that choice away from you or assume things on your behalf. he knows you, but he knows that the person who knows you best is yourself. you tap twice on his back with your fingers, signaling that you want the latter option, and he walks you towards your shared bedroom. the walk is a little awkward with the way you’re tangled around each other, but this is such a practiced thing that you make it work.

he settles you into the bed and presses a kiss to your forehead before whispering be right back. his absence pangs, even though he’s only a few meters away, noises from the kitchen invading your ears. he comes back with a tall glass of water sweating from the ice in it and a handful of your favorite snacks.

“just in case you want them later, so you don’t have to get out of bed,” he explains as he places the items on the bedside table. he presses the cup of water to your lips for a moment, coaxing you into a sitting position so you don’t spill on yourself, and then the cup joins the selection of snacks. they’re little kid-sized bags that he bought specifically for you, knowing that you like to graze on snacks throughout the day rather than eating big meals. your eyes burn at his thoughtfulness; even though he’s been doing this for you for so long, every reminder of his kindness makes you that much more grateful for him.

he settles into bed, letting you curl up around him. your breathing evens out with his until you’re breathing in sync, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you almost to sleep.

“sing for me?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. he looks into your eyes, the ones he could never say no to even if he wanted to, and he gives you a small smile.

“what do you want me to sing for you, my heart?” he asks, voice rumbling from his chest right into your ear.

“you know,” you pout. asking for things was never easy, but you were so lucky to have a partner that could read your mind.

he starts low, words softened around the edges, and by the time he gets to singing about being lonely and wanting someone to hold him you couldn’t hold back the tear that leaks into his shirt. this song is proof, he knows you. his words feel like they were pulled straight from your heart, etches of your soul spilling into every line and verse, the very essence of you in the melody escaping from his mouth.

i’m an alien on this earth.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #jisung imagines #han jisung imagines #han jisung fluff #jisung fluff #jisung drabbles #skz fluff

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the-oblivious-writer · 1 year ago

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After the Storm |One-shot [1]|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Woman!Reader

One-shot One: Vigilantes & Branzino

Summary: Tara invites you over for dinner in hopes you and Sam could get off on the right foot. But of course, things don't go her way

Warning(s): Swearing, police!Sam, & vigilante slander (?)

Notes: Here's that one-shot I promised and for quick background context the other people at the table during dinner are: Mindy, Chad, Anika and Quinn

Masterlist

“Hi.” You heard out of the blue; you looked up from your book to find Tara looking at you as you took out your headphones.

“Hi,” you replied with a small smile.

“Do you like branzino?” She randomly asked. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit, tilting your head as you looked a little confused.

“You know, like a fish?”

“Mhm, no, no,” you let out a small chuckle, “I know. I know,” you shrugged.

“Well, if you want, you can come to this address at eight o’ clock?” She proposed as she wrote something down on a piece of paper, soon handing it to you.

“My roommate, Quinn, is making branzino. She’s been testing out these, like, new recipes and stuff and tonight is branzino night so, yeah…that was a lot of unnecessary information, sorry,” Tara let out an embarrassed laugh as you only looked at her with fondness.

“Don’t be, I like hearing your voice,” you told her genuinely, now looking down at the piece of paper. Tara looked away as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She looked back at you as she wore a bright smile.

“Oh, and it’s apartment twenty sixteen…I didn’t write that part down—I don’t know why I didn’t,” she said, growing a bit flustered.

“I’ll remember it,” you told her, looking up from the paper and at her.

“Okay…” Suddenly she could hear her name being called from a few feet away. She looked over to see Chad, Mindy and Anika, waving at her. She waved back before looking back at you.

“I gotta go but, uh, twenty sixteen!” She called out as she walked over to her friends.

You responded by tapping your temple with your index finger, looking at her for a couple more seconds before you continued reading.

—

Tara was sitting on her bed, looking at her laptop when she heard soft knocks on her window. She looks up from her laptop to find you on her fire escape. A smile grazes her face as she puts down her laptop and goes to her window to open it.

“Hi,” she greeted after sliding the window up. You reply with a loving grin and Tara can’t help but giggle. “How did you get out there?”

“Uh, fire escape. Your doorman’s intimidating,” you responded as you came inside the room.

“It’s twenty stories.”

You looked at her for a couple seconds before saying, “Yeah..”

You were now fully in her room, standing in front of her. You looked around and wore a smile; the room felt like Tara. “So this is your room?”

“Yes, this is my room,” Tara answered, looking at you as your eyes wandered the room.

“Of course…it’s yours,” you add, pulling a laugh from the younger Carpenter.

“Oh hey, uh, I got your sister, uh, these,” you told her as you took off your backpack and took out a bouquet of flowers. Well…if they even still qualify as such.

Tara saw you take out the damaged bouquet; the flowers were bent, each one going in different directions, and pedals were clearly missing. But you somehow still made them beautiful to her.

“Oh—oh lovely.”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful right?”

“They’re beautiful.”

“They—they were nice,” you spoke before raising the bouquet to cover your face in a poor attempt to hide the embarrassed smile you wore.

“No, they’re beautiful,” she said as she looked at your embarrassed state.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized under the flowers.

“No, it’s impressive. They actually held together very well,” Tara nodded as she spoke, trying not to laugh any more.

“I’m gonna keep these…” Tara let out a short laugh, giving you a smile that you’ve grown to admire so much.

As you put the flowers back in your back, you heard Tara speak again. “Do you have your suit?” She asked, catching you off guard. Suit? Did she see it?

You instantly lift your head up, looking at her. “My suit?”

“It’s for dinner… Are—are you gonna wear that? A dress is fine too—” Just then the door opens and Sam's voice could be heard.

“Hey, Tar,” Sam's expression changes when her eyes meet you, clearly not expecting you to be in Tara’s room. Tara’s eyes go wide and your mouth is slightly open as you both look at the police captain.

She makes a couple steps forward before finally saying, “You must be Y/N.”

“Sam, this is Y/N.” Tara looks over at you, silently begging you to say something.

You hesitantly look at Tara then back at Sam, not sure if you’re reading the singles right. “Hey, nice to meet you ma’am,” you finally said as you walked over to Sam with your hand raised.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam responded as she shook your hand, voice lacking enthusiasm. You ignored the look she gave, only responding with a short yet soft smile.

“Dinner’s ready,” the police captain informed, “hope you like branzino.”

“Who doesn’t?”

—

You awkwardly poke at the fish with your knife, not really sure where you were even supposed to be cutting; how the hell were you supposed to do this?

Anika looked over at you as you struggled to figure it out. “You're having trouble there, aren’t you; the head goes on the other—Chad, help Tara’s friend with her fish,” she said, causing you to grow even shyer.

“Oh, I uh, I have no idea” you awkwardly chuckle, putting a timid on your chest.

“First time,” Chad said with a single nod as he began to cut your fish.

“Branzino,” you heard Tara whisper at you from across the table

“Hey, Sam, did you catch that spider chick yet?” Mindy inquired, you slowly lifted your gaze and averted it to the police captain who sat by you.

“No, we haven't caught her yet. But we will. She’s an amature who’s assaulting civilians in the dead of night, she’s clumsy, she leaves clues, but still dangerous.” After you swallow the bite you took of your fish, you look at her deep in thought.

“She’s assaulting—she’s assaulting people,” you say, as if absolutely stunned by the accusation—in a way you were.

Sam slightly furrowed her eyebrows at you but before she could get a word out, you continued. “I mean, I saw that video,” you do a slight nod, “with—with her and the car thief.” Tara watched as she knew what was about to unfold, taking a deep breath in and out.

“And—and I think most people would say she was…providing a public service.”

“Most people would be wrong,” Sam responded with certainty in her voice, “If I wanted the car thief off the street, he’d already be off the street.”

“So why wasn’t he then?” You asked, coming off as more of a smart ass than intended. Tara let out an awkward laugh as she felt the tension thicken with your response.

“Let me illuminate, you see, the car thief was leading us to the people who run the entire operation. It's been a six month long sting. It’s called strategy—I’m sure you’re aware of the term strategy? You’ve probably heard about that in school?”

You nodded along to the police captain’s words before answering with a quiet, “Yeah.”

Tara looked over at Quinn with a look that read “You’re kidding me, right?” Quinn tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Well, obviously she didn’t know you had a plan,” you suddenly add before taking another bite of the branzino.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this case; you know something we don’t know? I mean, whose side are you on here?” Sam’s voice slightly raised as she spoke.

“No, I’m not on anyone’s side; I saw a video on the internet–”

“Oh, you saw a video on the internet. Well, then the case is closed.”

Tara ran her hands down her face as Chad and Mindy watched with amused expressions.

“Well, no I’m just sayin’ that if you watch the video—maybe I can send you a link. It looks like—it looks like,” Sam slightly raised her hand to you, not wanting to hear anymore of this. “She’s really trying to help you.”

“Yeah, sure on the internet she must be made to look like some sort of masked hero or something.”

“No, no, no, I’m not saying she’s a hero, I don’t think she’s a hero at all–”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying she’s tryna’ help, but it looks like she’s trying to do something maybe the police can’t.”

“Something the police can’t?” Sam’s expression somehow grew even more frustrated.

“I don’t know.” You responded, hiding behind bites of your branzino.

“What do you think we do all day? You think we just sit around, eating donuts, with our thumbs planted firmly up our asses?”

“Sammy,” Tara sighed, putting down her utensils. Quinn gave Sam an unimpressed look as she said, “Sam,” in a firm tone.

“Up your what, Sam?” Mindy asked, earning her a light slap to the shoulder from Anika as Chad did a terrible job of containing his laughter.

“I think she stands for what you stand for, ma’am,” you finally say. “Protecting innocent people from bad guys.”

“I stand for law and order, kid. That’s what I stand for, okay? I wear a badge; this chick wears a mask like a—like an outlaw. She’s hunting down a bunch of criminals that all look the same, like she’s got some personal vendetta. But she’s not protecting innocent people, Ms. Y/L/N.” Sam’s words came crashing down with each one she spoke.

Suddenly, Tara puts her fork back down and pushes her chair back to stand up. “Let's get some air, Y/N.” You mentally curse yourself for screwing up dinner.

“Sam, we need to talk.”

“Yes we do,” Sam replied before taking a sip from her glass.

“Thank you for having me. I’m sorry if I insulted you—it was not my intention,” you apologized before getting up from your seat.

“You're welcome.” Sam replied before harshly placing down her cup.

“The branzino was really good, thank you,” you complimented, earning a smile from Quinn. “You're welcome,” you heard Quinn say as you walked away from the table, following Tara to wherever she was leading you.

—

Your hands were in your pocket as you followed Tara closer out on the roof. “Well that was something,” Tara finally spoke, earning a timid chuckle from you.

“Sorry…you know I thought she was gonna arrest me at one point?” You both looked over the edge, looking at the city streets below you.

“Nah, I wouldn’t let her arrest you.”

You quietly sigh, leaning forward and resting your forehead. Tara looks at you, thinking to herself before asking, “What happened to your face?”

“I wanna tell you something,” you immediately reply.

“Oh,” Tara lightly laughed. “Okay.”

You both turned and faced each other, now getting to admire the other’s eyes. You exhaled, struggling to muster the right words to tell her. How do you tell the woman of your dreams you’re Spider-Woman?

“I’ve been bitten.”

Tara couldn’t help the love struck smile that grew on her face as she softly responded, “So have I…”

Once you realized what she meant you let out a light, “Oh,” and smiled. She slowly leaned closer and you did the same but stopped yourself once you remembered what you were doing.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay—I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell you this one thing, and it’s about the—the vigilante and the car thief, alright?” Tara’s expression turned to disappointment; the conversation wasn’t exactly what she had hoped it would be.

“Oh, okay,” Tara backed away a bit.

You slightly furrowed your eyebrows at her. “No, no, no, no, no,” you repeatedly said as you shook your head and waved your hand. “No, no, don’t–”

“Okay.”

“Okay, no. Forget that. I’m not gonna talk about that. I’m gonna talk about me, okay?”

“What about you?”

“It’s… I wish I could just,” you gestured to your mouth with your hands, “I can’t. It’s hard to say.”

“Just say it,” Tara said, giving you a comforting look.

“No, no, no, no…” You turned over, leaning to look over the edge.

“Just say it…”

You only responded with a deep exhale, not being able to spit out the words.

“What?” Tara leaned over to you, and you turned your head to look at her before shaking your head and turning back.

Tara lightly rolled her eyes, “Nothing, forget it,” she let out defeatedly as she began to walk away.

In a split second decision, you impulsively shot a web at Tara and pulled her back to you. She landed in your arms, holding onto them as one hand held onto her waist and the other reached up to her neck.

She looked at you with a stunned expression but before she could get a word out, you softly pulled her in by the back of her neck and your lips made contact. Your other hand reaches up from her waist to cup her jaw. You both melted into the kiss as it grew deeper and deeper with each second.

You both pulled away to catch your breath. “You’re–”

“Shut. Up.” You interrupted before pulling her back into the kiss.

Tara smiled into that kiss and held onto your collar, pulling you in as close as she could. Your hands moved down to her waist as her other hand moved to wrap around your neck, pulling you in more.

“Tara?” Somebody called out, but you both were too distracted to notice.

“Tara–” You both finally heard, pulling away as Mindy stood at the rooftop door.

“Uh, Sam wants you to come inside—right away.”

“Okay…”

Mindy looked over at Tara when she realized she hadn’t moved at all, “Tara, come on. You can make out later.”

Tara rolled her eyes as she felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m coming,” Tara sighed, moving away from the rooftop’s ledge as Mindy went back inside.

Tara and you shared a single look before she let out a laugh of disbelief, clearly not expecting this to be the night she finds out you’re Spider-Woman—or any night for that matter.

You start to follow her when suddenly your senses go off, causing you to turn to your right and look out at the city. A city that needs you.

Tara stopped and turned when she realized you were no longer following her. She saw you looking out at the city as police sirens rang. You took a few steps as your eyes never pulled away from ahead of you. Then suddenly, you jumped off the roof as if it were nothing.

Tara lightly shook her head as she watched this.

“Oh, I’m in trouble…”

-----------

A/N: The way I genuinely laughed when Pete said he'd send Captain Stacy a link 😭

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x spider reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter x spider!reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #spider!reader #scream fanfic #after the storm au

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bad268 · 4 months ago

Text

Go to Medical (Pepe Marti X Trident! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Yeah (ILY ZEP)

Warnings: mentions car crash (concussion, broken ribs, mention injured shoulder), nickname Pepsi comes from a student I’m working with lol (his name is Pepe but everyone calls him Pepsi)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1086

Summary: Pepe is known for sneaking into your garage, but this time, there's a purpose!

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I have a blindfold on,” you heard a voice that you immediately recognized as Pepe coming from the front of the garage. You would have gotten up to go retrieve your boyfriend as you always did whenever he barged into your garage wanting to see you, but the lights messed with your head. Plus, you were sure that if you stood up, you would collapse. “Am I allowed to see my significant other and see if they’re alright after that crash?”

Thankfully, your amazing teammate, Paul, came to the rescue and led him back to the drivers' room for you. The lights were off, the windows were closed, you had some (not very effective) noise canceling headphones on and you were laying back on a massage bed with a wet rag over your eyes and a couple of small ice packs strapped to your shoulder and side.

“If I hear anything-“ Paul started to say but Pepe cut him off immediately.

“They have a concussion,” Pepe deadpanned while also being mindful to lower his voice now that he was in the direct vicinity of you. “We’re not gonna do anything!”

“I’m just saying…” Paul dragged on in a teasing manner as he slowly left the makeshift room. Pepe just rolled his eyes as he quietly and carefully pulled up a chair beside you. Part of you wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but the pounding in your head felt like it was getting worse. You must have made some kind of noise because Pepe immediately became concerned and started looking around for anything he could help you with.

“Pepsi,” you whispered as you moved your hand around slightly to see if you could grasp his hand. Pepe was on the other side of the room getting a new cloth for you. He thought that might help, but when you called him, he abandoned the rag in the sink and speedily walked back over to you, immediately grasping your hand. “Do you know if I’m allowed to leave? I still hear cars.”

“Yeah, I need to check with medical, but I think you were cleared to leave,” Pepe answered, short of breath as he started overthinking and rambling. “I just didn’t know if you wanted to leave now since the session is still going or if you wanted to wait until after. I don’t know how your head is and I didn’t want to assume anything, so please tell me if there’s something that you need, want, or anything-“

“I want you to shut up,” you tried to joke, but the forced chuckling made your head flare up again, and it made your side ache more. “Did I break a rib or is my tolerance for pain just not existent anymore?”

“I think you broke a couple of ribs,” Pepe said in a quiet tone, realizing that overloading you with information wasn’t going to do you any good. “That was a bad crash. It wasn’t your fault either! It was an accident in the breaking, and I think Kush blew out your rears.”

“Don’t ever say Kush blew out my rears again,” you attempted to joke again. This time you moved the rag to peek a single eye open at Pepe, and he was confused. You put the rag back down over your face as you blindly dropped your hand on the top of his head. “That went over your head, Pepsi baby.”

“I don’t like what you are insinuating here,’ He whined as he leaned his head down on the bed next to your uninjured shoulder.

“I didn’t say it,” You chuckled lightly, “You did.”

“Anyway,” He dragged out, still being mindful of his volume, “Do you want to head out? We can go back to the hotel and get food. Did you eat before the race?”

“I had a smoothie, I think, “You answered, unsure, but the more you tried to think about it, the more your head pounded. “I can’t remember, but I think I’m hungry.”

“Here, I’ll check in with medical for you to see if you can leave,” Pepe said as he stood up and gently moved your hand to rest on the bed.

“Wait,” You reached out to him before he could get far, “What happened to your race?”

“It was like a 5 car pile-up. After Kush knocked your tyres, he spun out and collected me, Paul, and Richard.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” Pepe reassured. He walked back over to the bed. He gently lifted up the now pretty dry rag from your eyes. He threw the rag to the side, making a mental note to replace it with a new one before he went to talk to medical, before he held your face in his hands. You peeked an eye open to see him leaning down and carefully resting his head against yours. You reached up to grasp one of his forearms. “It was never your fault, so don’t apologize, don't feel guilty, don't even think this was remotely your fault. Kush ran into the back of you and it caused a chain reaction. He misjudged his speed and four people had to pay the price. Unfortunately, you’re paying the most expensive price since you’re not allowed to race next weekend, but he’ll be penalized for that.”

He waited a second because you didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t need for you to say anything. He let the words hang in the air before taking a deep breath and planting a short kiss on your lips.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” He sighed when he pulled away, closing his eyes as he breathed you in. “I’m glad you weren’t severely injured in that crash.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” You tried to argue, but the look he gave you told you another story, “right?”

“You can watch the replay when you’re head is cleared, but right now, the blue light will make it hurt more,” Pepe explained lightly as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Now, I’m going to check with medical to see if I can take you home. We’ll figure out how to get home home another day.”

“Thank you, Pepe,” You said using his actual name for once. “I don’t know how I scored you.”

“If you recall-”

“No! We’re not bringing up how we met right now!” You whined as you hid your face in your hands. “Just go talk to medical. I wanna go home please.”

~~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#josep maria marti x reader #pepe marti x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 3 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 3 imagine #f2 x reader #f3 imagine #f2 imagine #f3 x reader #f2 #f3 #pepe marti #josep maria marti #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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zeltqz · 2 years ago

Note

the ask was for a sanzu x fem reader nsfw and they’re both getting high together in the car and they do the thing where they bloke smoke in each other’s most and one things leads to another. But I thought it would be funny of on the middle of their sesh, ran calls and idk you could decide if he answers or not. Lol

— mile high club

ø contents: smoking, smut, possessiveness, fluff, takeomi slander ish bc i hate the mf, friends to lovers, mutual oblivious pining, akashi brothers' mentioned beefing

o word count : 7.1k.

ø notes: is it even a sanzu fic if i dont include some sort of tension and psychological explanation to do with the neglect he faced from Takeomi? no? ok anyway...

@wenumsmol 🫶🏾

The sun sets over the streets of Tokyo when you park the car in the garage of the Akashi household, having dropped Haru off at home since you’re now his designated driver because his license got suspended for reckless driving.

“We’re here.” The car shuts off when you turn the key, both hands resting on the wheel like the professional, respectable driver you are. “Now get out of my car.”

Sanzu groans from the backseat, laying flat on his back, hand splayed over his forehead, the cold heat from his hands doing wonders to soothe his burning headache.

“Oi.” Over your shoulder, you peek at him, fighting the urge to poke him awake. “I said we’re here.”

“I know.”

“ So…get out?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t—” You bite your words, stopping yourself to give yourself time to take a deep breath, soothing your bubbling frustration before it erupts. “You don’t want to enter your own house?”

He raises a long, slender finger, pointing insistently out the window. You follow his gaze to the back corner of the garage, Takeomi’s bike perched on its stand.

“Ohhh,” you realise, unbuckling your seatbelt to turn and face him fully. “Well..you can’t avoid him forever.”

He removes his hand from his forehead, eyebrows knitted, forehead creased as he glares at you. “Watch me.”

“I’m serious, Haru.”

“So am I.” He’s sitting up, face stern and serious, you swear his green eyes practically glow in the dark as they catch the edge of the yellow tint garage light.

When it comes to Takeomi, Haruchiyo mainly plans on avoiding him at all costs, dodging him around the house, wearing headphones at full volume just to drown out the sound of his brother’s voice, not coming back home for days on end, rather spending the night at yours or Mikey’s house.

He’s developed different coping mechanisms : talking to Mikey is a big help, though Mikey isn’t one for therapeutic advice, he’s still willing to lend a helping ear and listen to Haruchiyo rant on and on. It’s not much help though, only hearing responses like ‘ hm ’ , ‘ oh ’, and ‘ah’, maybe if Mikey has a little energy left in him, he’d nod occasionally, but that’s about as much help as you’d get.

His second coping mechanism is you, someone he’d befriended a couple months back and kept you by his side secretly ever since, using you as a personal chauffeur and a therapist, but more importantly a best friend. Someone who’d be there for him without judging him and his dirty secrets; someone who likes to be around him not because they’re scared or intimidated, but because they enjoy his presence.

He cannot be in the right state of mind when talking to his brother, not wanting to remember their interactions in the morning, so he relies on getting stoned or drunk to wipe his memory. It’s a potentially dangerous mechanism, but Sanzu enjoys the adrealine rush of trying something new, enjoys the out of body experiences, the fuzzy feelings, the wild imaginations and visions that make his world look colourful rather than monochromatic.

“Haru.” You call his name with that sweet voice of yours, one that makes his heart warm. “You can talk to me about anything, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you.”

He’s looking down at his lap, mouth twisted in a way he always does when he’s deep in thought. You can’t help but wonder just what’s going through that brain of his, knowing fully that up there is a mess of unorganised feelings and emotions he’d never been able to fully process.

“Haru. Is everything oka—”

“You know what I want?” He cuts you off, changing topics with a bright smile.

His decision to switch topics isn’t something that offends you, knowing that he takes time to fully open up and you’re willing to wait as long as he needs. “What do you want, Haru?”

“I want weed.”

“There’s no weed, wait. What are you doin—” He moves quickly, his lean body brushing past yours, balancing a hand on your lap for leverage as he reaches inside the glove compartment pulling out his stash. “What the hell! You stashed your crap in my car?!”

“Of course I did.” He cackles at the dumbfounded look on your face, moving to the backseat. “Where else would I put it?”

“Uh—I don’t know? Your room? Anywhere but my damn car! I got pulled over the other day. What if I had gotten caught and they searched my car?”

“Did you?” He shrugs half heartedly, opening the ziplock bag. Almost instantly the car smells of marijuana, your nose wrinkles as you try to process it.

“Well, no…but that’s not the point!”

“Shhhh,” he shushes you, taking his time to roll his blunt, all the while you’re glaring at him. “Stop pouting. You should be thanking me.”

“For what?”

“This.” He licks the joint to seal it, lifting it towards you like it’s his artistic masterpiece. The smile on his face screams child proud of their school project, diamond scars stretching cutely as his smile only widens. “It’s strong. Try it.”

“It better be.” You snatch it from his hands, holding it between your teeth as you manouevr yourself to the backseat to seat beside him.

His chin is heavy on your shoulder as he watches you light it, wanting to be as close to you as possible not only to get a whiff of that perfume he loves that you practically drown yourself in, but to see your initial reaction to the weed.

The smoke burns your throat before you could fully inhale, coughing violently whilst pounding on your chest to ease it. Haruchiyo grabs water from the front, tossing it to your lap as you erupt in a series of coughs. “What is that?”

“I dunno.” He eyes the joint between his two fingers, looking oddly fascinated by it. “I just heard it was strong.”

“No shit.” It hurts when you talk, still feeling the ghost of smoke searing your oesphagus.

His spare hand hooks onto your legs, and you yelp as he swings them over on his lap, slender fingers rubbing up and down your thigh as he smokes. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t wanna.” You shift upwards on the seats, sitting on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to rest your forehead against the side of his face and shoulder. The scent of his cologne is overpowered by the marjiuana, but it’s still visible, dipping your face between his neckline and sighing. “This one is too much.”

“Are my eyes red?” His jaw moves when he speaks, and it tickles as his smooth skin brushes against your cheek.

It pains you to move from your current position, his warmth and scent are soothing to you, but you shift back, turning the car lights on to see better. The corners of his eyes are red, and he’s struggling to keep them fully open.

“Yeah, they are.” The urge to brush his cheeks is tempting, and your fingers twitch and hesitate by your side.

“Hey hey, wanna see somethin’ cool?” When you nod, he shifts upwards, his hand grabbing to hold onto your waist to ground you before you slip off his lap.

The sudden contact had you stiffening, blood roaring in your ears as his strong hand held your side. You watch him perform a trick, his diaphragm contracting as he inhales, lips pursed as he exhales, several rings of smoke following suit. Your brows raise in surprise, ready to praise him when he sucks it all back in with one huge breath, the rings dismantling in the air.

He turns back to look at you, chin high in the air, eyes tinted red gleaming as he grins at you, cheerful and animated. You can’t help it, reaching out to cup his soft cheeks with one hand, tracing over the outline of his lips, the shape of his scars with your thumb.

It’s like he’s frozen stiff as your fingers feel up his face, and he blinks at you as you look at him with those soft eyes of yours. “You’re so cute, Haru.”

His eyes dilate; from the light in the car, or the strong weed you don’t know, can’t tell. What you can tell is that from his silence, his mind is running wild, thoughts bouncing across his brain from left to right, mirroring the way his eyes dart over your face, your lips, and the curve of your nose.

“So are you.” The words spill out from his lips faster than the blush creeps onto his cheeks. He looks away, embarrassed, clearing his throat before smoking from the joint again. “I learnt it from Ran. That useless lazy fucker is sometimes helpful.”

“Ran, huh?” Your fingers find themselves latched to the front strands of his hair tucked into a ponytail, twirling it on your fingertips. “He’s the tall one, right?”

He chuckles, short and amused, voice muffled from the joint between his lips. “All my friends are tall, ya know?”

“Well maybe if you let me around your friends, I’d be able to identify them.”

“You’ll live without ‘em,” he says, blowing smoke in your face, snorting when you cough and swat the smoke away, then try to hit the side of his face, only for him to catch your hand in time. “Your reflexes suck ass.”

You struggle to shift your hand from his grip, frowning at him. “I’m not a ninja.”

“I can teach you to be one.”

“You a sensei, now?”

“I’m anything and everything. Like Batman.”

He smiles when you laugh softly, the sound making him feel lightheaded, paired along with the weed flowing through his veins. “Batman is rich, though. You’re not.”

“I can steal money, all is good.” His hand, warm and hot, slides under the hem of your shirt, leaving a searing trail behind his movements that burns into your skin. “I’ll buy you anything once I get rich. Promise.”

He’s been subtly leaning closer as he speaks the whole time, but you don’t notice until his forehead brushes yours and you’re both staring at each other, daring the other to move closer. “ Anything? ”

Green eyes fall down to your lips, not even trying to look subtle. “Anything.”

Fuck, at this angle you look so pretty, staring down at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He always feels like that around you, another reason why he loves getting high around you. It forces him to be vulnerable around you, letting the feelings he’s been shovelling down refsurface.

Though it’s risky, and there’s nothing more he fears than rejection, he’s always been a risk taker. You make him feel good with your words, your presence, your voice, the silly moments you two share alone in his car, your room, his room.

Your lips are what he favours the most on your face, always glossy with whatever flavour lipbalm you wear that day, and he physically fights the urge to kiss them just to guess it. His eyes are drawn towards your lips like a magnet. The way you bite at them when you’re focused, chew on the skin when you’re nervous, lick them when they’re dry, he notices, and wonders how soft they truly are.

“Do…do you wanna kiss me?” Your question catches him off guard, brows knitting in confusion as he wonders if he’s been speaking his thoughts aloud this entire time, but in truth, he’s been making his intentions obvious as he’s been staring at nothing but your lips the entire time.

“Huh? Don’t be weird.” He instantly facepalms himself mentally, fighting the urge to turn back time to take back his words, but it’s too late when your brows rise, lips parting slightly in surprise before looking down at your lap with a slight frown.

“Oh, sorry. That was weird, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine.” His heart stings in his chest, he can feel it clenching painfully leaving nothing but a hollow feeling in the depths of his stomach when he realises you’re upset. “Why’d you ask that anyway?”

Maybe he can shift the narrative, find out a way to spin the conversation back to kissing. He still has a chance. “Have you never kissed anyone before?”

“I have!” The pout is back on your face, but not from being sad; he can tell the difference, so he sighs in relief. But still…the way your lower lip juts out slightly has him fighting the urge to tug and bite at it. “I’m not a virgin, idiot.”

He doesn’t bother trying to hide the surprise on his face, and you notice. “What? It’s that hard to believe someone would fuck me? Am I that ugly or something?”

The effects of the weed start kicking in, now you feel yourself getting emotional over nothing.

“I never even said anything.”

“You didn’t need to. I’m not stupid, Haru.”

He flexes his jaw as he glares at you, trying to shovel his anger down. The argument is pointless, so he stays silent, bringing the blunt back to his lips. He inhales it for longer this time, and it can’t possibly be healthy for his lungs, but he doesn’t care.

“What time is it?” you ask, and his hand squeezes your waist tighter, stopping you from squirming from his lap.

“Why do you need the time?”

“Because I gotta get going at seven.”

“...why ?”

“Because…” you chirp, shifting to face him with a huge smile on your face, “I’ve got a date.”

When you bite down on your lip, he can’t even be bothered to look down at it, or notice it. It’s silent in the car as you wait for Haru to be your best friend/wingman that hypes you, ask you for his name, height, age, job, personality, whatever. But he’s silent, face unreadable, and the tension in the car rises thick when he continues to stay silent; your excitement fades along with your smile.

He knows he’s been silent for too long, now everything is awkward, but he can’t find the right words to say. Congratulations? It’s just a date, what do you expect him to do? Find you wedding rings?

His brain isn’t co-operating either, not in the right state of mind to process his words like a filter, so he says nothing before he says something he’ll regret.

“...Anyway,” you have to choke your words out, refusing to show your slight embarrassment, “hurry up and get high, so I can leave and get laid.”

“I am high.”

“Then I can leave.”

“No, you can’t.” He glares back when you glare at him, but he can’t find it in himself to control himself any longer. Maybe it was a bad idea to get high in a confided space with you, on his lap, with your face so close to his.

“Why can’t I?”

“...’cause he’s a loser, and you don’t wanna get laid by a loser.”

You snort. “He’s the only loser available, so maybe I do want to.”

“What if…there’s another loser available?” He goes stiff and still when your eyes flick up to his face, looking concentrated at him eye to eye as if you were trying to decipher his words. “Me. I’m the loser.”

“You?” He simply nods and you do the opposite and shake your head. “You’re not a loser.”

“Yeah, I am.” You shift on his lap when he shrugs, leaning his head back against the headrest, and you watch as smoke leaves his lips as he exhales.

His senses are intensified with the drugs, your fingers tickling their way up his shoulders, along his neck, to behind his head, lacing them between his soft hair. Leaning down, you hold his face in your hands and kiss him.

The moment your lips touch his, he feels like the world paused, and he’s dying to find whoever has control over the remote of his life so they could press play and he could embrace you like he deserves. Or, maybe he’s dying, and whoever is up there allows him to imagine just one night with you before he fades into nothing.

It’s real, all real. The tender slide of your lips against his are real, the sensation of his teeth sinking into your soft plump lips, biting, and nibbling at it is real, the gentle moans he eagerly draws from your lips when his tongue swipes against yours, wet, messy and sloppy is real.

“Fuck—” you whisper along the swell of his lips, pulling away to examine his face.

He looks gone, shallow half-lidded eyes looking up at you with blown wide pupils, mouth half open as if he’s forgotten how to close it.

“Haru, you there?” Your knuckle traces along the side of his face, stopping under his chin, lifting it to look up at you.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m here.”

Your giggle echoes in his ears, and he’s never been harder in his life, cock pressing uncomfortably tight against his pants. “Good, because you look wasted right now.”

“Just, fuck— stop talkin’. C’mere.” He pulls you down for a kiss with a hand at the back of your head, sloppily working his mouth against yours. He tastes like weed, the smell strong but it doesn’t stop you from licking into his mouth, desperate to drive the strong taste away and replace it.

Big, strong hands wander the length of your back, slipping under your shirt, cold hands hugging you tight, tight to his body that you can’t help but arch into him.

A sound that comes from the inside of the house has you pulling away, turning to face the window, and he trails his lips down the length of your neck. His nose pokes into the flesh of your neck as he sucks deep, red hickeys onto the plane of your neck, breathing heavily as he savours the feeling of your soft feeling of your skin.

He could get used to this; the weed makes him feel like your skin is ten times softer, or maybe that’s how it generally feels and you’re just perfect, so soft everywhere.

“Tak—take this off.” The words are lost to your neck as he sucks along the column of your throat, rogue hands wandering along your chest, up your shirt, kneading your tits through your bra.

“Okay, okay, wait —” When you pull backwards, he follows, leaning up from the seat, lips attached to your neck by the hip. “Haru. If you want to see me naked, you’re gonna have to let me remove my clothes.”

“Just…wait a min’ longer…” He sucks harder, and you shudder as shivers race down your body at the feeling of his teeth nibbling at the sensitive part of your neck. When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, admiring his handiwork. “You look so sexy like this, fuck.” He’s tugging your shirt off, throwing it behind you, uncaring of where it lands.

Warm hands roam your stomach, your sides, sliding up further to wrap around your throat. “So beautiful ‘n sexy, just for me.”

“You already said sexy.” He hums absentmindedly, obviously not paying attention if the way he’s squeezing the fat of your breasts were any indication.

“You’re sexy times two.” He grins up at you before pulling your bra cup down, and you inhale sharply when it brushes down your nipple. “No, no actually. Times infinity.”

You flush hot at his words, especially when his lips brush against your ears, biting down against the shell. He’s sweating from the heat in the car plus the heat from both your panting bodies.

“Don’t you think we should—ah fuck—” He tugs you upwards on his lap, your clothed cunt grinding against his hard cock, hands curling into fists behind his neck.

“We should what?” His musical chuckle vibrates along your ear, sending cold shivers down your spine, forcing you to arch to chase the feeling away. You squeal when he bites down along your ear once more, smirkingpleasantly at the soft, squishy press of your tits against his chest.

“We should go to your room. I mean there’s not much room in here.” Your neck aches from the angle you’re sitting at, neck bent at an awkward angle to avoid hitting the roof of the car.

There’s not enough space in this crammed car to fit yourself comfortably. Haru, on the other hand, is more than comfortable, seated on the seats like a king that’s blessed the majestic view of your half naked body atop of his.

“I got an idea,” he says, not giving you a moment to wonder what he’s thinking before he’s lifting you from his lap, plopping you onto the seats. Your forearm darts quickly to cover your chest when he pops the car door open, lips pressed together tightly as he walks to the front seat, yanks the door open without a care and readjusts the seats back, pushing it till there’s enough room between the wheel. “This space big enough for ya?”

You tilt your head past the seat, surveying the space with a keen eye. There’s enough room for you to kneel down and take his cock in your mouth without a fuss or a struggle. A bed sounds nicer though, the thought of sinking into his soft mattress as he fucks you crosses your mind, but it’s overpowered when you remember his siblings are home and you’d rather die than let them hear you.

“Seems good,” you shrug, sliding quickly out the car; the cold air from the garage AC hits you smack in the chest, hardening your nipples momentarily.

“Ah, ah wait.” Haru pulls you back before you could climb on top of him. The cute way your tilt your head at him, confused, makes his heart do a triple beat for a moment. “I wanna try somethin’.”

“Okay…”

It’s stressful the way he’s manouevring you along the seat, pressing your back into the front seat as he shifts to kneel between your legs. “Hold your legs up for me.”

You swallow hard, unable to taste your saliva with how fast your nerves are racing. Doing as he said, you bring your hands under your thighs, holding them up as he tugs your pants down, struggling to get them past your bent knees, glaring at you when you choke on your laugh, muttering out a quick apology.

“Don’t apologise now. You’ll be beggin’ for it later, trust me.”

His confidence is over the roof right now, evident in his strong posture, shoulders back as he leans forward, swiping a finger along your folds with ease.

“You’re really wet.” Your slick catches on the tip of his finger, and you want to hide your face between your hands when his pink tongue darts out to lick at it.

“Could you maybe not do that? It’s awkward…”

He hums when he looks at you; now it’s his turn to tilt his head at you. “How else am I supposed to eat you out then?” His hands press themselves between yours under your thighs, and your back aches from almost sliding down the seat in this awkward position. “You want me to skip the prep? Fuck you into the seat right now?”

“I mean—” It sounds like a good idea, but then you remember the length and thickness of his cock through his pants and swallow excessively. “Prep please.”

He smiles at you, the car light reflecting off the side of his face as he dips his face closer, digging his fingers into the swell of your thighs, nose pressed against your folds and sniffs so hard it’s like a vacuum, your clit tingles with the need to have his tongue in you.

“This gonna sound so weird, but I really don’t give a fuck but…” he moans as he licks along your slit, a long, wet stripe from the bottom to the top, “you taste so good, fuck—”

“Haru stop…” He seals his lips around your clit, fingernails digging into your thighs as he sucks hard, numbing your clit with the continous flicks of his tongue moving at rapid speed. “Oh my go—”

Your hands fight the urge to fly to his hair, pull him closer to grind his nose against your stubborn clit, but you remember his instructions, to keep your hands on your thighs, keep you spread open for him.

He’s devouring your pussy like a starved individual, flicking his tongue rapidly, slurping the wetness that drips from your puffy folds. You try to close your legs, try to squirm away from the ticklish feeling of his wet tongue trying to squeeze its way through your cunt, but it’s intoxicating, and overwhelming, especially when his finger tickles against your hole.

It’s fascinating watching it go in and out, and Haru dreads pulling his mouth away from your cunt but he needs to watch your face as his finger slides knuckle deep inside you. His bloodshot eyes twinkle as he watches your slick coat the length of his finger, translucent liquid dripping down his knuckles to the seat.

“You always get this wet?”

“I don’t know…” It’s not often you finger yourself, so the experience is first hand. You’re also partially amazed that your body managed to produce this much slick from a single finger. “Wait, wait, right there. That feels so good—”

“Here?” His finger curls inside you, itching the side of that spongy spot.

“No, no—not there, wait—” Your hips shift to the side a little, then it’s like something switches inside you, hands shaking against your thighs as he spreads you out with a second finger, applying pressure to that spot that has your moans increasing in pitch.

His cock twitches with the need to replace his fingers, sink himself deep inside you, watch your eyes cross as you melt in pleasure. He leans forward, slurping, sucking along the sensitive hood of your clit.

Your body feels numb, voice coming out as breathy pants as you tilt your head back to hit the headrest, giving into the warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside your abdomdem as he fingers you to your climax.

He knows that you're close when your walls cling and squeeze his fingers tight, barely giving him enough room to move them. His own tongue slithers through your folds, lapping up the leftover slick. The taste of you is better than he’d expected, and he thinks he could live between your legs for the rest of his life.

There’s a swell of pride swirling through his chest when he feels you lose yourself on his fingers and tongue, your teeth pressing into your bottom lip painfully as you jolt and sit up from the effects of your orgasm. Your hands forget holding your thighs up, gripping onto his hair tied up loosely in a ponytail and tug him forward, craving the warmth of his mouth sealed around your clit as your world comes tumbling down.

It takes a couple moments for you to get yourself together, still holding painfully onto his hair before letting go. He presses ticklish kisses along your thighs, licking at the wetness spread along them.

“That was—” You swallow, trying to find the words since your brain isn’t co-operating. “That was so good.”

You look all cute when flustered, face heated and flushed, your pretty lips left open as you pant heavily, desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Think I found my new addiction.” He grins up at you, big hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he kneels up between your legs, wrapping them around his waist and leans in for a kiss.

Your hands cup his cheeks, holding him close to you as he licks into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, giving you a moment to gather your nerves because you’re going to need it.

“I’m ready,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling the shiver that races down his spine.

“Bet, okay. Hold on.” He draws back, big hands spreading your thighs apart.

You look at him through your lashes as he sheds his shirt, tossing it behind you. His body is lean, capacious, abs faint but visible and your mouth waters, hand flying out to run down his stomach. Your touch is so light, his muscles flinching away from the ticklish feeling. Everything you do to him makes him feel so good.

He grips both your hands, pinning them above the headrest. “Keep ‘em there,” he says, unbuckling his belt, sliding his pants down to his knees. He grabs a condom from his back pocket, ignoring your humourless stare.

“You planned this?” You gesture at the condoms with your head.

“Better be safe than sorry.” He bites the end of the wrapper, pulling the condom out, rolling it slowly down his shaft.

Your eyeroll is cut short when the tip of his cock angles itself at your entrance. He can see the way you’re dripping, the slick smeared along your thighs.

Warmth engulfs the head of his cock as he slowly pushes it in you, and he hisses, biting his lip to stop himself from thinking how good you feel, how tight you’re going to squeeze his cock, how he’s going to cum inside you—

You’re panting, the tip of his cock stretching you out, almost screaming when it pushes past, the thick head making you dizzy it carves a path inside you. “Ah, Haru that—” He pushes deeper, and his eyes roll back when you clench around him.

Haru swears, gripping onto the base of his cock, squeezing it to stop himself from cumming too quickly, pushing through the urge to shove the rest of his length inside you. He stills halfway, needing to take a moment to compose himself, his mind fuzzy and warm, and he feels lightheaded.

He has to close his eyes, knowing if he looks down, seeing his cock between your legs, halfway inside you, he’d cum in an instant.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to wait—I can take it,” you pant, hips desperately trying to rut forward. “Please…”

He takes a moment to swallow, groaning lowly, as he pushes the rest of his cock inside you, trying to ignore the tight suction of your walls. The moment he bottoms out, he’s falling forward, dipping his face between your neck and shoulder and moans, the sound desperate and needy, causing your pussy to clench and quiver around him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, arms wrapping around his head as you hold him closely, enjoying the feeling of his breath tickling your shoulders. “You okay?”

It’s funny how you’re asking him this instead of the other way round, and a part of you feels pride in the fact you could make someone this desperate and needy without effort.

“I’m good…it’s just…fuck , you’re so tight.” He forces himself to inhale deeply, eyes squeezing shut painfully to compose himself. He shivers at the feeling of your nails raking up and down his hair, scratching at his scalp addictvely. “You’re good though, right? It doesn’t hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling softly at him. “Nah. The seats a little uncomfortable but…that’s about it. You can move, Haru.”

“It’s uncomfy? Oh…” You almost want to cry when he pulls out, but he’s lifting you from the seat, switching your positions, slotting you back down on his lap.

“You want me to ride you?”

He nods, biting his lip when you grab onto his cock, seating yourself down on his cock.

“Oh my god—” You feel so full, his thick cock stretches your walls, whimpering beside his ear when he rolls his hips sensually, pressing his cock deeper inside you.

“ Holy shit , you’re so tight.” Your pussy drives him into a frenzy, eyes threatening to roll back at the way your cunt squeezes him so tight, clinging to every inch of him.

He swears, voice low, sounding wrecked as you begin riding him a little faster, slowly lifting your hips up and down. The obscene squelch of your pussy grasping pathetically around his thick shaft has him biting his lip so hard he might draw blood.

“ Haru.” You wail his name, collapsing onto his chest, shuddering when his hands, rough and warm, grab onto your hips to slow your pace down.

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, like a whisper, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Lemme move—” You trail your lips down his neck in an attempt to soften him, waiting for him to let go of you so you can move faster. There’s a nudging spot inside you, an itch that needs to be scratched. Your attempt to move is shut down again, frustration building up and up the longer you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Haru please…”

“If I let go, you gotta promise to take it slow.”

“But I wanna make you feel good.” You whisper along his lips, tugging at it with your teeth. He groans into your mouth, and shifts for a moment, his cock follows suit, twitching desperately for some friction. “Wait, do that again.”

“This?” He rolls his hips upwards, rolls your hips backwards and forwards, and you drip a little wetter down his leg, wetting his thighs.

“Yes. Do it again.”

He starts a steady pace, steady enough for you to feel the way he’s deliberately aiming at that spot in you that makes you squirm around.

“I’m so close.” He says beside your ear, his voice lingering in your head, clouded by the feeling of his hands roaming your back, scratching at it with every bounce you give him.

“Me…me too.”

He’s tense, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. You shift backwards, unslinking your hands from around his neck to grab at his knees, using them as leverage to support yourself as you roll your hips in circles.

He can feel the energy buzzing between you both, can feel the tingling sensation on the edge of his fingertips, the drugs running through his veins has the regular feeling of sex intensifieid, and he swears he can feel every inch of you.

Everything is so hot right now, the temperature in the car, the feel of your hands braced against his knees, the way your nails dig into the bone, the way your tits bounce in his face as you fuck yourself on his cock.

You clench when you cum, and he leans forward suddenly, grabbing your hips to lift you up, slamming you back down with a loud moan, hips jerking as he cums inside you.

You’re shaking, trembling at the feeling of his cum spurting inside you, the wet sensation is ticklish, cold shivers running down your spine.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles again, holding you down to feel your greedy walls sucking him in further. “Holy fuck, I could stay here forever.”

“I need a shower.” You say once you come back to your senses, groaning softly when you lift yourself up and off his cock, the wet squelch following after echoes throughout the car.

“That’s so hot.” He mutters, eyes wide with fascincation as he reaches out to thumb at your clit, enjoying the way you shiver and let out a soft moan as he rubs it in circles. “Holy shit that’s so hot. You’re so hot.”

“I kno—” It’s distracting when you can feel his cum dripping out from you slowly making you lose your train of thought , the drip of it is anticipating until it forms a small pool between both of your bodies. “I know.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

He removes his thumb, wiping the wetness from it along his tongue, tasting you, and you feel your face flush at the action, burning hot when looks up at you, the corners of his mouth dragging up slowly. “You did.”

“Shut up.”

Sanzu’s reaching towards the backseat for his stash, and you laugh at how his arm barely reaches it, flailing it uselessly around the air.

“You’re not gonna reach it, Haru.”

“Watch me.”

He grunts and groans like he’s lifting heavy bricks, and you start to take pity on him. “Dude, just give up.”

“No.”

If there’s one thing about Sanzu it’s that he’s determined, but not in the way you think. It’s more the stubborn version, always trying to do the impossible, ignoring you when you tell him it’s not possible, then sulks when he fails.

He clicks his tongue, shifting you down on his lap so he has more room and this time successfully grabs at it. “Told you. Always hatin’ on me.”

You giggle, faint and shrill, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder, watching him dug through the contents of the bag, his slender, skilled fingers professionally rolling another blunt.

It’s silent in the car again, you two both bask in each other’s presence. Both of you refusing to discuss what happened earlier, not sure if those sudden feelings you felt were because of the weed or if there’s something else deep inside, a false truth you’ve refused to make terms with, or shoved them aside for another unknown reason unbeknownst to you.

Your head is racing with thoughts, pictures of Haru wondering where you suddenly felt these emotions towards him came from. The thought of sharing him with anyone else angers you, but it shouldn’t because you’re both friends. The thought of him laying in a car with another girl on top of him angers you, makes you feel bitter and resentment towards this imaginary woman your brain fabricated inside your head.

It’s like your body is working against you.

Stupid weed.

Haru’s gone for the second time today, and for the first time in what felt like ten minutes—in actuality it was only three—you look up at him. He looks like he’s falling asleep, those chubby cheeks of his so promising, so soft, you can’t help but shift upwards, pressing soft kisses against them.

It should be weird to him that he doesn’t question your sudden out of character movements, but then again you both did just have sex not longer than five minutes ago.

His phone rings at the backseat, pulling you away from his neck where you were sucking fresh purple hickeys onto and he groans when your ass brushes aginst his cock. It’s been slightly hard the entire time, still not over his recent orgasm, but not strong enough to maintain itself to stand tall.

“What’re you doin’?” You freeze as your hand hovers over his phone.

“Your phone’s been ringing non-stop. It’s irritating.” The caller ID is Ran, and part of you wants to answer it so you can know what he looks like. It’s been nudging at your brain the entire time, trying to figure out which one of his friends is who, trying to put the pieces of the faceless group of boys together to solve the puzzle.

“Just ignore it—okay then.” You answer the phone away, turning the camera away from your naked body onto Sanzu’s face. You squirm around, trying to find where Sanzu threw your bra and shirt as the two engage in small talk.

“What do you want?”

Ran snorts on the other end, his voice deep, familiar, and husky. “Don’t needa get all pissy, you big baby. Takeomi wants to know where you are.”

“What the fuck does that have to do wit’ me?”

“Call him, or somethin’. I don’t fuckin’ know?”

Haru sniffs, nose wrinkling when the smoke he blows out invades his nostrils. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“Being a fuckin’ junkie?” Ran snorts, petty and bitterly, voice now laced in sarcasm. “So productive.”

Haruchiyo rolls his eyes at the same time you put your shirt back on, reaching under your shirt to fix the straps of your bra. “I’m doing more than getting high, you slug. I’m with my friend.”

You had tuned out the conversation from the beginning, your main priority being your clothes, but at the mention of ‘friend’, he jostles his leg, catching your attention. “Say hello.”

“Uh…hello?”

“Oh? Who might you be?”

“I’m—” Haruchiyo ends the call before you could even get the first letter of your name out. “What the hell?”

He lazily shrugs, tossing his phone into the backseat without a care. It hits the edge of the seat, before hitting the floor with a mild smack. Two noble fingers grasp at your chin, redirecting your gaze from his probably broken phone to his face.

The kiss is passionate, and long, his wet slide of his tongue laving itself inside your mouth. Your face grows hot when his lips wrap around the length of your tongue, sucking the moisture from it, replacing it with his own. It’s messy but you don’t care, happily drinking the mixed saliva from his mouth.

His sharp teeth sink into your lips, stopping you from pulling away, kissing you with fervour as his heavy head spins, and bright flashes of colour appears behind his closed eyes.

“I’m so hungry,” he gasps out when he finally pulls away, wiping the saliva from his mouth with his forearm, giving you back the breath he stole from your lungs with that kiss.

“You want me to drive you to McDonalds?”

He grins up at you, that stupid adorable look on his face that has your heart warming in your chest. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

“It’s my way of forcing some food down your throat before you die of starvation.”

“What if I was thirsty instead?”

“McDonalds sells drinks, dumbass.”

“ Or… ” He places his hands on your hips, pulling you forward on his lap. You yelp at the motion, hands flying to the headrest behind him to stabilise yourself.

What he’s insinuating is lost to you for a moment, only becoming obvious when his hand snakes down to your pussy, thumb nudging insistently at your clit. His eyes dip down to your chest, your nipples still hard and poking through the thin fabric of your shirt, then drags them back up to your face and smiles.

“You’re so horny.” Your eyeroll is fabricated and fake, part of you deep down wants it too.

“You like it though.” It’s true, and he knows it too. The defeated look on your face is all he needs to know when he moves to open the car door, nodding his head outside. “Let’s go to my room now.”

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