#when will i learn to not make wall of text replies
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finalgirllx · 2 months ago
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teasing ellie williams | minors dni | modern soft dom!ellie oops to remember me by.
is the message you attached to the x-rated pictures you sent to ellie's phone. did you know what you were doing? maybe. but what if either one of you actually chose to end things here? then, sure, they could be taken as a lovely parting gift. you trusted her enough not to betray you every time you sent a photo of your fingers inside your lacy panties.
film yourself next time. that'd make a very pretty video for me
ellie sent back. a faint sigh escapes your lips upon reading her message, realizing that she had rejected your rejection. as if that's not exactly what you wanted. you can't help but fantasize about the consequences of your little act of rebellion. you can easily imagine ellie on the other side of the screen, probably biting her lip as she typed, fighting the temptation to preemptively dip her hand into her shorts.
knowing ellie, you could tell that her reply was more a front for her nerves than anything. normally she was all about that awkward charm, but since she knew you enjoyed pushing her buttons sometimes--all to catch a rare glimpse of a slightly mean, cocky ellie--she was happy to bring it out when you pulled stunts like this. it was clear that all those little tantalizing messages were calls for attention, and ellie was eager to give you exactly the trouble you wanted.
——————-
"poor, needy girl couldn’t just ask me to come over; had to act up instead," ellie murmured into your ear, her voice husky with desire. She had one elbow pressed into the mattress to prop herself up enough to loom over you. her gaze wandered admiringly over your form, which was beautifully splayed out beneath her.
mere hours into the night after sending her that risky text, ellie came knocking at your door. the pretty auburn-haired girl charmed her way into your room, all the way to your bed, ready to handle your insolence with a much more.. hands-on approach. her slender fingers raked those same lacy panties to the side, teasing your slick folds, reenacting the scene you had so considerately presented her in those pictures.
ellie had learned your body well enough to maneuver your most sensitive spots with ease, drawing out pathetic whines and enthusiastic moans as she pumped her fingers inside of you. it proved difficult for her to hold back her own small noises while watching you unfurl so quickly from her touch, especially after all those theatrics. you really were just too cute.
"s'just a joke, els
" you whimper in a feeble attempt for mercy, which only earns a wicked smirk from ellie. instead, her movements remain unyielding, only slowing her pace whenever you teeter too close to the edge of your climax to keep you desperate.
"'just a joke', hmm? i think you knew exactly what you were doing," ellie purred back, laying the taunts on thick. "you wanted me to come and touch you like this, huh? you want me to make you come, baby?" she quickened her thrusts, curling her fingers to repeatedly hit the spot she knew would make you see stars. with dark satisfaction, ellie watched your body finally succumb to the pleasure, your hips bucking against her hand, walls clenching around her digits. you let out that distinctive moan that ellie could never get enough of, prideful in knowing only she could make you feel that good.
"good girl, coming just for me," ellie coos, now pressing soothing, tender kisses to your temple. she hadn’t removed her fingers, however, which continued to slowly fuck you through your climax. "now. what was that about this being the last time?"
"s'nothing.." the truth stumbled from your lips as your entire body was rendered pliant from one mind-breaking orgasm. ellie drank in the sight of you looking so artfully undone; but she wasn’t planning on letting you off the hook so soon.
"gooood girl. now, you can take another for me, yeah?"
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puck-luck · 23 days ago
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hallmates | quinn hughes
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warnings: voyeuristic themes (thin walls), masturbation (fem), dirty talk, wet dreams, drunkenness, quinn pining but barely, garland mentioned before i found out he followed trump and tucker carlson on instagram..., PROTECTED p in v (for once), the smut in this is not as strong as previous pieces of mine, use of Y/N. pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: when fem!reader moves in next to qh, there are two instances where she forgets just how thin the walls are. the second time, quinn is sure to remind her. wc: 5746
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Your first grown-up job out of college has been great. You like your coworkers, you’re not bored with your daily tasks, and they gave you a very generous relocation package for your move to Vancouver. You were lucky enough to find a nice apartment with the money, and you paid the first three months’ rent easily. It’s your first one-bedroom apartment, finally living on your own for the first time in your life, and almost everything is perfect.
Almost everything.
Your one gripe is that you can hear your neighbor through the wall when he gets home from his job at weird hours, or when he has friends over during weeknights when you’re trying to prepare for work the following day, or even when he hosts holiday parties for what sounds like fifty-plus people.
It happens often enough that you’re annoyed when his presence makes itself known, but you’re not the kind of person to go over and tell him to knock it off. Plus, you decided that you’d give him a pass because it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.
Well, that, and he’s cute.
The first time you met was on move-in day. You were lugging your suitcases up the stairs leading to the apartment and he offered to help you carry them in. He took them both– one in each hand– and lifted them like they were nothing. He brought them all the way to the lobby, then smiled softly at you instead of saying “You’re welcome” when you thanked him. You had to talk to the security guard to get your key before ascending up to your floor in the elevator, and in that time, the cute boy had disappeared. You hadn’t caught his name, but you had texted your best friends and informed them that there was at least one hottie in your building.
You learned his name the second time he helped you carry something up the stairs. You had gone grocery shopping at the market down the street and had conveniently forgotten your reusable bags. Before you realized your mistake, you had gone a little crazy with the fruits and vegetables. You’d had to pack all of your goodies into two bursting paper bags that one of the vendors had on hand, and they were filled to the brim. You made it all the way to the bottom of the steps to your apartment when the handles of the bags tore off and all of your hard work was suddenly for naught.
The bags went crashing to the pavement, dirty and littered with the fallen leaves that hadn’t been corralled when they first made their way to the ground, and the prized red onion that you were going to chop up tonight as part of your dinner rolled about a foot away. 
All in all, you should’ve been glad it was the onion. You always peel the skin off of an onion before you cook it, and you always wash it thoroughly before cutting it up, but you reacted like it was the end of the world. Your prized onion was tarnished by the ground, which was silly, because they come from the ground in the first place. 
The onion rolled all the way to your neighbor’s feet. He was arriving home with a friend, a short brunet with floppy hair and a mustache. “You okay?” Your neighbor asked. He picked up the onion and cradled it in his palm.
“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just not sure how I’m going to carry all of this upstairs without the handles.”
“We’ll help out. You live next to Huggy, right?” The friend said, bending down to lift one of the bags. He cradles it in his arms and your neighbor does the same.
“Huggy?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.
Your neighbor, in the meanwhile, had blushed beet-red and stooped down to pick up the other bag of groceries. “That’s me. It’s a nickname.”
“Huggy Bear,” his friend cooed, bumping his arm and knocking your neighbor off balance. 
“It’s Quinn. My name. You can call me Quinn,” your neighbor said, diverting your attention from the silly nickname.
“How do you know which apartment I live in, Quinn?” You questioned. You walked alongside the men as they took your groceries up the stairs, into the elevator, and into your apartment.
Quinn had cut his friend off by replying first. “Moving in makes a lot of noise. I live next door and we share a wall. You weren’t really quiet when you built your bed. I’m glad you have somewhere to sleep, but I could live without the expletives.” He reveals the information with a smile, the same slight curve of his lips that you’re starting to really admire.
That was that. They dropped the groceries off on your kitchen counter and you thanked them for the help, then sent them on their way.
The third time you saw Quinn– well, it started this whole mess. He’s been nice to you twice, so you thought you would repay him with the best thing you could think of: brownies. You’d just gotten the recipe from your aunt to make them from scratch and, hey, he’s a guy, right? Guys like baked goods. 
The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Not that you’re trying to get to Quinn’s heart. You wouldn’t mind it, but you’re not
 trying.
Thirty minutes later, you’re knocking on Quinn’s door with a plate of brownies. Half of your goods are on the platter, ready for Quinn to dig into. The rest are on your counter, their yummy scent rising in waves from them like in a cartoon and waiting for you to return. 
You only know that he’s home because you can hear him through the wall. After he told you that the walls were thin, you’d been noticing the same thing. It wasn’t just when he gets home or when he has people over. You can hear him moving around and cooking throughout the day. You can hear his sports channels through the wall– yes, that’s right, channels. Multiple. You’re not sure, but he might have two or even three TVs. 
Long story short, Quinn’s home. It takes him a few minutes to come to the door when you knock. “Who is it?” He asks, voice muffled through the door.
“Your friendly next door neighbor,” you reply. “With a plate of fresh brownies.”
The lock slides open and Quinn appears from behind the door. You hold the plate out to Quinn and he takes it from you with one hand. The other rests above his head on the doorframe. He leans over you, smiling softly. 
Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You don’t know where you were going with this. Your eyes are drawn to his neck, which looks muscular and, well, biteable.
“Enjoy the brownies,” you squeak out, then you turn on your heel and bolt away.
Like any normal woman who is shocked by her sudden visceral attraction to her admittedly-hot next door neighbor, you call your best friend. She talks you through it for a little while, then starts to stray into enemy territory: “Go out, Y/N. Get your mind off of it. Have a drink, get a little tipsy, then go over to his place and tell him how hot you think he is. You’ve never heard a girl’s voice, right? I feel like you would’ve, if he has a girlfriend. The worst he can say is that he’s not interested.”
When you try to weasel out of it, speaking in low tones so that Quinn doesn't hear you through the wall, she reminds you that your resolution for this “new stage of your life” was to stop being so anxious about what someone could say to you. You had declared that you wouldn’t let your own anxiety affect your ability to be vulnerable, especially not with the people that you find attractive. 
Damn your best friend. How dare she look out for you. She even promises to call you in four hours to check in on your drunkenness.
You make plans with the girl in your office that you’ve been taking lunch with. She’s also new– not compared to you, but within the past year. She remembers what it was like to be brand new to Vancouver, so she’s eager to go out with you and offer up her friendship. She takes you to two bars in the downtown area: when the first one gets too full with what she calls “the sport crowd,” you move to the next.
Your coworker’s favorite liquor is tequila. After three shots, which make you cringe despite filling your stomach with warmth, she pulls your troubles out of you. You tell her all about your “sexy” roommate– that’s right, Quinn has been upgraded from “hot” to “sexy” as a result of the alcohol– and she encourages you to try and bag him, just like your best friend did. She agrees that there’s no reason not to and that you should be fine because you’ve been bolstered by the tequila.
She tells you about the person she’s currently seeing and how confusing it is, rambling on and on. When the time comes, and you’re still out, your best friend does call. You talk to her for a second, then she meets your coworker through speakerphone, and they bond over the fact that they both think you should hook up with Quinn.
You party into the night, getting more and more loopy. Your confidence skyrockets by the end of the evening and your drinks are tasting like water. You’re probably too far gone to actually talk to Quinn tonight, but who cares? You feel good. You needed a night out like this.
By the time you’re getting in the Uber, there’s a goofy smile that hasn’t left your face since maybe your fifth drink. You’re able to stumble up the stairs to the lobby and gleefully greet the nighttime security guard at his desk, then you ride the elevator up to your floor. You look up and see yourself in the mirrors on the ceiling of the elevator, which is a treat for Drunk-You. It’s almost a shame when the elevator dings, having finally reached your floor, and you have to leave.
You walk down the hall and consider going up to Quinn’s door, but your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out. It’s the newly minted group chat between you, your coworker, and your bestie. It distracts you, and the clock in the top left corner informs you that you’ve gotten home at a crisp 1:30am, so you decide to go to bed. 
You go to bed, alright. You get ready, you get comfy, and then you remember Quinn’s neck. 
The skin looked so soft. The hair from his beard had started to creep down towards his adam’s apple, but it was neatly maintained. You can imagine how scratchy it would be in your palms, or against your cheek when he graces you with a little kiss, or against your neck while he sucks hickeys onto your skin
 or against the sensitive expanse of your own thighs.
You know just how sensitive and delicate the skin is on your thighs because it’s where your fingers are dancing. 
As you drift off, mind still foggy from your drinks, your touch starts to feel much more like you imagine Quinn’s would. His big fingers, on that manly hand, would touch you so carefully. He’d be so determined to play you like a fiddle.
As you imagine your very sexy next door neighbor touching you, you’re making a lot more noise than you realize. It starts with a whimper here and there, then crescendos into actual moans and desperate keens. You’ve shoved your face into the pillow below you, but it does very little to muffle your moans– considering you’re a big fan of breathing, your face is more turned to the side so that you don’t actually suffocate yourself while in the middle of getting off. Your middle two fingers are shoved into your cunt, your index finger erratically sliding against your clit. 
“I know, baby, you feel so good. You want it so bad, don’t you?” Quinn’s imaginary and gently deprecating words wash over your brain like an intrusive thought. 
You bite your lip and turn into the pillow, pleading with him belligerently into the cushion. You’re fighting for your life in this little fantasy, feeling so overwhelmed, and the man you’re imagining isn’t even here. But, in your mind, he’s the one with his fingers inside of you, making you gasp out his name once when his finger passes over your clit just right. In your mind, he doubles down and turns you into a mess. The drinks clogging your mind are able to make it feel more real.
You’re so caught up in your own pleasure that you forget just how thin the walls are. You miss the sound of your neighbor tossing and turning in his bed, even standing at one point and pacing around his bedroom.
It’s only after you come that you hear his bedframe creak with the weight of his body and the faint music that he seems to be playing– maybe just as white noise to fall asleep. You write it off and succumb to the clawing hands of your own slumber. 
You see Quinn again the next day. You’re heading to work with a heavy hangover weighing on you– why did you listen to your best friend when she told you to go out on a Sunday? Why did you listen to your coworker when she brought out the second and third round of shots?– and Quinn seems to be heading to his own job. You still don’t know what that is.
You meet him in front of the elevator, waiting for its doors to open and let you in. You’re honestly not sure if the movement will make you feel more sick, or even push you over the edge and make you dizzy and on the verge of throwing up, like getting out of bed did when you woke up later than you meant to and you had to rush to get ready. Everything is too bright.
Quinn yawns three times in two minutes. You’re the only two in the elevator and the silence is growing more uncomfortable than the ache in your head, since you consider Quinn to be your
 friend now? General acquaintance, distant crush, or next-door neighbor might be a better categorization. 
“Long night?” You ask. 
His cheeks turn pink, bizarrely, and Quinn seems determined to face straight forward. His eyes look a little more deer-in-headlights today, rather than the calm and serene blankness that you’re used to. Not that you’re used to looking into Quinn’s eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling for him. You’ve been the victim of a restless night many times over, so you know how dreadful it is the following day. “Do you know why?”
Quinn swallows harshly. “Um, I have an idea.”
It’s a weird answer, only because he doesn’t elaborate any further. You keep waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. That is, until the elevator arrives in the parking garage under the complex, when Quinn starts to head one way towards his car and you start to go the other way to your own. To make things even more confusing, Quinn says in a very stilted voice, “Thanks for the brownies.”
Then, like you did when you dropped the brownies off the previous day, he bolts. 
At first, you’re confused, but you let it go. Maybe he was late for work. At least he took the time out of his day to thank you for the brownies, right?
You consider gifting him some of your sleepy-time tea, since he was having trouble sleeping and it’s clearly affecting him. Then you think to yourself that if you kept bringing Quinn treats, you would seem like a cat dropping a mouse at their owners’ feet
 so you decide not to.
You feel vindicated with your choice in the coming days. Each time Quinn sees you, his eyes go wide and he scampers away as quickly as he can. It proves itself to be very confusing because he was so nice before. 
After a tough week at work, and another near-miss with Quinn, you’re just
 tired. It’s been a weird few days. What you really want is to snuggle up in your bed, throw on some ambient music, drink a glass of wine, light a candle, and fall asleep early– after blowing out your candle, of course. You’d be damned if you were the reason the entire apartment burned down in the middle of the night.
You’re lucky enough that your plans for the night work out. You get to settle in with a book– a spicy romance novel that your coworker recommended to “take the edge off if you won’t knock on Quinn’s damn door.” She seems to think that the reason you’re having a bad week is because you haven’t hooked up with Quinn yet. You don’t think there’s any correlation.
There does seem to be a correlation between the spicy book, the mention of Quinn, and what happens later. You fell asleep with your book open against your chest, having been lulled to sleep by the comfort of your own home. 
It starts simple. Quinn’s lips are sliding against yours, his hand resting securely on your waist. You’re laying in bed and you’ve got a thigh over his hip, grinding into his generous length. Before you know it, and in dream-land it seems like a flash, Quinn’s length is inside of you. He’s got a thumb on your clit while the other plays with your hair, sweet kisses gracing your lips. Quinn’s content teasing you, thrusting as shallowly as he wants and leaving you whining for more. 
“Quinn,” dream-you insists between kisses. 
“Not enough for you, sweetheart?” dream-Quinn chides playfully, his voice riddled with fondness. “You weren’t even supposed to take my cock tonight. But no, you just had to be full. You couldn’t be content with warming me either, huh? You need me to fuck you whenever you want. Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Quinn, I need you,” you confirm, whining a little bit and pursing your lips so he finds them again.
“Music to my ears,” Quinn tells you with a smile. “Let me make you come, yeah?”
“Quinn,” you moan again, his touch reducing you to a mess that can only say one word: his name.
You wake to a loud knock on your apartment door. “Y/N!” The person calls, and it sounds like a man, which alarms you in your freshly awoken state.
You roll out of bed and tug on your bathrobe, which you had thrown in the dryer during your first stint in bed, the one that had sent you into sleep. And– and– had sparked that weird dream that has you wet in your panties and wishing Quinn had been there when you woke up.
You tie the belt of the robe around your waist and look through the peephole– it is Quinn. Your wish came true, in a bizarre way. He’s here and he looks concerned. He’s lifting his hand to knock again, but you open the door.
“Quinn, what’s–”
“Are you okay?” He asks. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, as well as his tennis shoes. He probably just slipped those on to come over here. “You were saying my name. I heard you through the wall. You said you needed me. Are you hurt? Is something wrong?”
The barrage of questions leaves you rattled. You blink in surprise, trying to process all of his inquiries. “What?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut hard to try and wipe the sleep away. 
“You were saying my name,” Quinn repeats. 
You squint, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was asleep,” you say, aware of how confused you sound.
“You were asleep,” Quinn repeats. He blinks twice, then repeats himself, sounding more sure. “You were asleep.”
“I was asleep,” you agree.
Quinn goes to leave, then faces you again and tilts his head to the side. “What were you dreaming about?” He asks. 
You feel your face flood with embarrassment. You’ve never been good at controlling your expression. “It was nothing.”
“Was I there?” Quinn checks. “Is that why you were saying my name?”
“You were there,” you confirm, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him and he leaves. 
Quinn smiles. He looks extra handsome when he smiles. He was smiling at you in your dream. He was doing a lot of good things in your dream. If only you could fall asleep and jump right back in– you were so close and his cock was filling you so well. 
“What was I doing in this dream?” Quinn crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you. 
You move closer to the door, keeping your hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it behind him as soon as he heads back to his apartment. “I don’t remember,” you lie. “You know, most people forget their dream within ten minutes of waking up.”
Quinn nods, still smirking. “You didn’t forget this one, though, did you?” He teases knowingly. 
“Bits and pieces.”
The next thing Quinn says is Earth-shattering. 
“Were you dreaming last time, too?”
You wish you could melt into the floor or camouflage yourself against the wall. You had a theory that Quinn had heard you getting off through the wall the night that you were drunk, although you don’t imagine that he understood your wanton noises. That was why he was running away so much. 
But
 he’s not running away this time. He’s here and he’s pressing you for more and more details.
“What do you mean?” You ask, swallowing hard.
“The last time you were saying my name,” Quinn prompts. “Were you asleep then, too?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
“No, I don’t think so,” You reply, scrubbing over your arms. It’s a sign of being uncomfortable. Hopefully Quinn picks up on that and goes, sparing you any further humiliation. You’ll never talk to him again. He’s heard you make sex noises twice, and now you know that he knows. It’s embarrassing.
Quinn takes another step forward. He’s right in the doorway now, inches away from stepping across the threshold and entering your apartment. “If you have another dream,” he says, pushing his long sleeves up to his elbows and revealing his arms. He dips his head, lowering his voice to a timbre that has you growing damp again. “You know where to find me.”
Like a final stamp of approval on an official document, Quinn touches the knot at the front of your robe. It’s a brief, fleeting touch and it’s so close to where his hands were originally planted in your dream.
He turns to leave and gets all of three steps away before you call him back. “Quinn.”
“Mhm?” He asks, knowing smile on his face. 
“How, um
 how much did you hear?” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. 
“The first time?” Quinn asks. “Or this time?”
You don’t really want to know the answer, but you nod anyway. “Uh...both?”
“Well,” Quinn says. “Today, you didn’t seem to get very far.”
No thanks to you, you think bitterly. I would’ve liked to see how that dream ended.
“But the first time, I heard everything,” Quinn informs you with a little shrug. “You
 you sound really pretty when you come.”
It’s a sheepish admission and it has your jaw dropping. You fishmouth at him for a second, unable to think of something to say. He can just say shit like that? What? How?
“I guess I was hoping
” Quinn licks his lower lip, then looks you up and down. “That if I interrupted you this time, I’d get to
 experience the real thing. Not just listen in through the wall.”
“You want
” you trail off, overwhelmed by the information he’s giving you. Quinn wants to have sex with you? But he’s your neighbor crush– this is a new development in the dynamic that you were not expecting. You’re not usually the kind of girl whose little crushes are reciprocated, at least, not like this.
Quinn raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to complete the sentence. When you don’t, he asks another question. “What was I doing in your dream, Y/N?”
“We, um, we were in bed,” you stammer out, feeling unsure. He wants to know– he’s made that very clear. Still, you’re somewhat reluctant. It might be coming off as coyness by accident.
“Can I come in?” Quinn asks. “I need to get the full picture. I don’t know what your bed looks like.”
You stand aside and allow him in. You close, and, out of habit, lock the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom. You try to see it through his eyes for the first time, although you’ve been living here for a while, so it’s hard. It’s just your bedroom.
“So this is where we were,” Quinn says. “Then what?”
“We were laying down,” you explain.
Quinn starts to take off his shoes, then his socks, then he climbs into your bed. “Like this?”
You feel lightheaded. What is he doing? This is so bizarre.
“Kind of?” You reply. You join him. “It was more like– this?” You pull at his arm until he lays on his side, facing you. You face him, bringing his elbow up so it rests on the pillow. 
He asked, you remind yourself. He wants to know. He asked. It’s weird, but you’re just showing him. 
You resolutely avoid his eyes, which have been trained on your face this whole time. Your cheeks are probably going to remain stained pink from the constant blush on your skin. You lay your head on the curve of his arm, then touch his cheek. Just his cheek. You’re still avoiding his eyes. It’s getting harder. “And then, um, my leg was over your hip, too.”
“Like this?” Quinn asks, bringing his warm palm to the curve of your knee and guiding your leg into place. He leaves his hand there.
“Like that,” you confirm faintly. 
All of your neurons are firing like crazy, making you question if this, too, is a dream. Has your subconscious gotten so meta that you can’t decipher what’s real and what’s fake?
“What else did we do?” Quinn’s voice has dropped to a whisper. His hand is still on your thigh.
“Well, your hand was here,” You say, correcting him and bringing his hand to your waist. “And you
”
Quinn gives your waist a little squeeze. “I
 what?”
“You were kissing me,” you say, your voice barely a breath. This can’t be real. 
Quinn surprises you. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” He leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours before he meets you completely. He’s hesitant, waiting for you to relax with him. 
You don’t fully, still confused from waking up and the fact that this happened so quickly and in such a bizarre way. When he pulls away, you voice your confusion. “Are you real?” You question under your breath.
Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss you again. “I’m real.”
He continues to kiss you. Over and over, until you finally melt into his touch and start to do exactly what you were doing in your dream– grinding against him. 
“Were you doing this in your dream?” Quinn asks. He’s helping guide your movements and you can feel him swelling beneath you. He’s not wearing underwear– you can tell. You want it, bad, and now that you’ve been kissing him, you’re more willing to explain the rest of your dream to him.
“More,” you breathe out. “I needed your cock inside me.”
Quinn makes a noise of surprise, but the way he kisses you after you say that reveals his enthusiasm.
“And you were talking to me,” you reveal as Quinn starts to meet your rolling hips. “You were– you were teasing me for being so needy.”
“What was I saying?” Quinn’s hand twitches against your waist, pulling you closer. He licks into your mouth briefly, then pulls back. “What had you begging for me, sweetheart?”
“Making fun of me,” you exhale. “Saying– I couldn’t get enough of you. That I was greedy and that I couldn’t be satisfied with just warming you–”
“Warming me,” Quinn repeats quietly, interrupting you.
You talk over him. “So you had to fuck me, but you weren’t really fucking me– you were just, inside, barely moving and your thumb was on my clit.”
“As if I could hold myself back like that,” Quinn scoffs. You grab the sides of his shirt and tug petulantly, bringing him in for another kiss. You’re addicted. 
“Show me,” you invite. “Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me what you’d do differently. Please. You came all the way over here– I want to make it worth your time.”
Quinn groans into your mouth, bringing his hand from your waist to the tie of your robe. “Really?”
“Don’t make me ask again,” you say. “I was so close in my dream.”
Quinn reacts to that in the same way. “Fuck, let me get my fingers in you first–”
“No.”
“No?” Quinn repeats, pulling away from you. 
“Not no,” you correct, bringing your hands to his waistband and snapping the band impatiently. “Just– I want your cock. Just your cock. Please fuck me, Quinn.” You kiss him sweetly one more time. “Please?”
“Undress yourself,” Quinn says. “I want to see all of you.”
“You too,” you reply. “Take your clothes off.”
As you undress, untying the knot of your belt and tossing the robe to the floor of your bedroom, you talk. You take your big t-shirt off, asking, “Condom?”
Quinn digs into the pocket of his sweats, having shed his shirt. He pulls out a foil– just one, sadly– and tosses it to you. 
You catch it, tearing the edge of the packet and taking out the ring of plastic inside of it. You push your panties down with one hand, while Quinn loses his sweats. As soon as his cock is revealed to you, hard and pink at the tip, you jump into action. You’re rolling the condom on quickly, unable to help yourself from pumping his shaft a few times.
“Quit,” Quinn remarks, batting your hand away and laying back down. He’s on his side, pulling your thigh back over his hip and resuming the position from before. He puts his hand under your jaw, then guides his cock to your opening. He pushes in, rolling his hips until every single inch is sheathed inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
“You’re big,” you reply, holding his shoulders and tilting your pelvis forward to encourage him to move. “Filling me so nice, Q.”
“Q,” Quinn echoes, his voice sounding a little strangled. “That’s– that’s nice.”
You wonder if he’s holding back. He always seems to when it comes to talking to you. After a while, maybe he’ll give you something more than his shy words and his hesitant admissions. He’s in your bed now, but he’s still holding back.
He starts to rut against you, finding a rhythm in which his cock slides in and out of your heat. The movement is smooth because you’re so wet from dreaming about him, then kissing him, and now having him inside. Even though there’s the barrier of protection between you, he’s warm and you can feel the way his skin stretches over his veins and his tip. That, combined with the scrape of his member against your fleshy walls, creates something so warm inside of you that you can’t help but ask for more.
Quinn gives you everything you ask for like he can’t imagine doing anything else. Soon enough, he’s holding himself up slightly by his elbow so he has some leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. 
You’re moaning, pulling him closer and threading your fingers through his hair. “Quinn,” you’re saying, repeating the word that inspired him to come over in the first place. 
He’s saying your name, too. He’s whispering it into your ear and into your mouth as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. He thrusts, he says your name, he kisses. He thrusts again, he says your name again, and he kisses you again. It’s an endless cycle, a perpetual loop. It’s soft and sweet, even though the way he’s fucking you is anything but. His thrusts are sharp and pointed, hitting the right spot inside of you as often as he can. 
The kiss to your neck is your undoing. He’s sucking a bit, biting down just barely, and his tongue works against your pulse point. It’s too much, too full of something deeper. You let go, making the noise he likes so much– the noise that he said was pretty, and he meant it, even as bashful as he looked when he said it. Your moan mixes with his name again.
Quinn spills into the condom shortly after, touching you reverently and letting his hips jerk and twitch through his release. 
You feel innately close to him, like you’re part of him. It’s bizarre how one hookup with your cute neighbor leaves you feeling satisfied and unsettled– ‘unsettled’ because, well, why would you feel so close to a man you’ve slept with once and only had a few genuine conversations with?
Quinn eases your thoughts by letting you know that he feels, at least, a little bit similar to you. 
“Can I take you to dinner?” He asks. “I’m busy most of the time, but I want to take you out. Let’s make time to have a real date.” Quinn pauses. “Unless you don’t want to– if you just want this, that’s okay. I just– I’d feel stupid if I didn’t ask.”
You touch his mouth, effectively silencing him, even though you hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to feel his lips move while he spoke. “I’ll go to dinner with you,” you agree. “If you sleep here tonight.”
Quinn smiles. “Done.”
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oldsoul007 · 25 days ago
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hope you like scary movies, cus you’re in one
a/n: I may or may not saw an edit

ghostface!nicholas x reader
It was a quiet night in woodsboro , like it always is. I was a nanny for a little boy so I could get through college. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown Caller. I pressed declined but it repeatedly kept calling. Then the landline they had started ringing. I hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Hello?" I said, my voice cautious.
"Hello, y/n," a distorted voice replied. It sent a chill down my spine. "Do you like scary movies?"
I recognized the voice immediately. It was Ghostface, the infamous killer that terrorize my dad in 1996. But something felt off. There was a familiarity in the tone, beneath the distortion.
"Who is this? You’re not funny” Y/n asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Guess," the voice taunted. "Or maybe I'll just have to come find you."
My heart raced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew this person. She thought about Nicholas and how he always played pranks on her. Could it be him?
"Alright, Nicholas," I said, calling his bluff. "Cut it out. I know it's you."
There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice changed, becoming softer and unmistakably Nicholas.
"You got me," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I couldn't resist. I've been watching too many horror movies lately."
I let out a relieved laugh. "You really had me going there for a second. But seriously, you need to stop watching those movies."
Nicholas chuckled. "I know, I know. But hey, it got you to pick up the phone, didn't it?"
I shook my head, smiling. "Yeah, it did. But next time, maybe just send a text?"
"Deal," Nicholas agreed, his tone warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for Nicholas. Even when he was being mischievous, he had a way of making me smile.
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I had been feeling uneasy for days. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It started with strange noises outside my window at night and escalated to finding eerie notes left in places only I would notice. The notes were signed by "Ghostface," and they sent chills down my spine.
One evening, as I was walking home from work, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace, but the footsteps matched mine, growing closer with each step. I turned a corner and ducked into an alley, hoping to lose my pursuer. But as I looked back, I saw the unmistakable mask of Ghostface looming in the shadows.
My heart raced as I tried to find a way out. Suddenly, Ghostface lunged at me, pinning her against the wall. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, her voice trembling with fear.
The masked figure was silent for a moment before reaching up to remove the mask. To my shock, it was Nicholas, my boyfriend, standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.
"Nicholas? What the hell?" My fear quickly turned to anger. "You scared me half to death!"
Nicholas looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to frighten you that much. I thought it would be a fun Halloween prank. I guess I went too far."
My anger softened slightly as I saw the remorse in his eyes. "You think?" I said, still shaken. "You could have just told me you wanted to scare me a little, not make me think I was being stalked by a killer."
Nicholas sighed. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I just wanted to do something different, but I realize now it was a terrible idea. Can you forgive me?"
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just promise me you'll never do something like this again."
"I promise," Nicholas said, pulling me into a hug. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."
As we walked home together, I couldn't help but feel relieved that the nightmare was over. But I also realized that Nicholas had a lot to learn about what constituted a "fun" prank.
“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with ghostface” “babe it’s Halloween losen up!” He said as we walked hand in hand.
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I had always felt a chill in the air around Halloween, but this year, it was different. I had my boyfriend, nicholas. He was charming, funny, and had a smile that could light up the darkest night. Everyone loved him. But there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
One evening, me and nick decided to attend the town's annual Halloween party. The old mansion where the party was held was decked out in spooky decorations, with cobwebs, eerie lighting, and ghostly figures lurking in the corners. Everyone was in costume, and I had chosen to go as a ____.
As I mingled with friends, I couldn't help but notice that Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was. Just as I was about to give up, I was walking by the stairs when I heard someone yelling.
I try not to be nosey but go up the stairs anyone. Maybe nick was up here anyway. I walked through the house looking in the rooms finding nothing. When I open the door i see some kid in a ghost face costume hop out the window. “What the fuck” I say under my breath. I pull out my phone to text him. No service?
I heard commotion downstairs so I ran down to see what’s happening. Everyone was gone from the house. I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.
It was Ghostface, and my heart raced. The figure moved silently through the room, its eyes fixed on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Ghostface approached, stopping just inches away from me.
"Y/n," a familiar voice whispered from behind the mask. My eyes widened in shock as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal Nicholas's face. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, friendly smile I was used to. It was cold and sinister.
"I've been watching you," Nicholas said, his voice low and menacing. "You have no idea who I really am."
I took a step back, my mind racing. The pieces started to fall into place—the strange disappearances, the eerie feeling I got around him, the way he always seemed to know too much. I realized with a sinking feeling that my new boyfriend was none other than the real Ghostface.
Before I could react, Nicholas lunged at me, but I was quick. I grabbed a nearby candlestick and swung it at him, knocking him off balance. I ran through the mansion, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately searching for a way out.
As I reached the front door, I could hear Nicholas's footsteps behind me. I flung the door open and ran into the night, vowing never to trust anyone so easily again. But before I could even get out of the door he grabbed my arm pulling me back in. I try fighting him off but he grabs both of my wrist. “I’m not gonna hurt you y/n!” “Why, why did you do this?!” I yell looking him in the eyes. “What even is a motive?”
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nadvs · 8 months ago
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watch and learn (part two)
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning drug and alcohol use
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summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.
You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.
You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.
Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.
Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know
You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.
You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.
You: might take you up on that
Rafe: might?
You: might :)
Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.
Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.
He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends
Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.
You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that
He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.
Rafe: wtf why
You: you’re a fuckboy
Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing
You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do
Rafe: you can’t take all the credit
You: watch me
Rafe: you’re annoying
You: YOU’RE annoying
You: send me the address and time for the party
He quickly sends you the details.
This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.
Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.
Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.
“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.
“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.
“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.
His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.
You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.
“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”
Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.
He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.
“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”
You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.
“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.
“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.
You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.
“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.
“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”
Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.
“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.
“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.
“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.
“How was it?” Blake asks.
Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.
“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.
Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.
“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.
“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.
“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”
“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.
Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.
“Go for it,” Rafe says.
Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.
You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.
You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.
You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.
As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.
Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.
You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol
You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.
The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.
You reply: too scared :( no thanks
You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.
You text again: jk let’s go
He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.
“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”
“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.
“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.
“I knew it before.”
“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”
“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.
“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.
You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.
“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.
“This is your car?”
“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.
“It makes so much sense now.”
“What?”
“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.
“And?”
“That’s why you’re so
” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”
Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.
You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.
Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.
He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.
He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.
Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.
“I wanna practice
” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”
“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.
“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.
“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.
“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.
“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”
“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.
“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”
You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”
“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”
“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.
“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.
You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.
“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.
You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.
“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.
“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”
You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.
His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.
“Should I use both hands?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.
He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.
Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.
“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.
You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.
“Keep using your tongue like that,ïżœïżœ Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”
You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.
“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”
The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.
“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”
You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.
“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”
You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.
“Is it wet enough?” you ask.
“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.
“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”
You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.
Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.
Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.
“You gonna swallow?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.
He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.
His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.
You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.
“That was
 fuck
” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.
It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.
“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.
“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”
Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.
“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.
“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.
“We could get caught.”
“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”
You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.
“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”
You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.
He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.
Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.
“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”
“Okay,” you say.
“Do you want to fuck?”
You nod.
“Say it.”
“Yeah, I do,” you relent.
“Then take your clothes off.”
(part three)
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homesick4la · 16 days ago
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complicated — hamzahthefantastic
2. with you all night
contains: 18+ content mdni! nsfw at all lol smut and a bit of fluff towards the end!
summary: your night gets much more interesting when you decide to go back to your ex’s apartment.
a/n: this starts exactly where the last part ended!
last part: pushing it down and praying
reentering the main room, you quickly find matthew still talking with his friends, completely oblivious. you force a smile and touch his arm lightly, “hey, i really don’t feel good— think i’m gonna head home and go to bed.”
his brows furrow, believing your act. “did you want me to give you a ride home?”
“no, no! i’ll just get an uber! i don’t want to take you away from your friends.” you give him a reassuring smile.
he nods, “alright, well text me when you get home.” he says before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.
with that, you make your way through the crowd once again. your heart racing as you grow closer to the front door.
you worry that hamzah has already left as you finally open the door. but there he was, leaning against a wall with his hands shoved in his pockets.
it was much darker outside, the empty street only illuminated by a few warm toned street lights.
“figured you’d ditch me.” he says, his tone teasing.
“thought about it.” you reply, smirking as you begin walking down the sidewalk.
he quickly falls into step beside you, so close that you can feel your hands brush every so often.
the tension crackles between the two of you, the quiet night air only heightening it.
“so, does ‘new guy’ know you’ve got terrible taste in music?” hamzah teases, tilting his head to the side, glancing over at you.
you roll your eyes, “he doesn’t have terrible taste- he actually listens to my playlists without skipping every other song”, you shoot back, unable to hide the grin on your face.
“ouch!” he presses a hand to his chest dramatically, “hey! i let you play your music in my car. that’s love, you know.”
you laugh, shaking your head. “yeah, well that is because you wouldn’t know good music if it hit you in the face.”
he chuckles, leaning in a little closer, “i knew a good thing when i saw it,” he says softly, allowing his words to linger in the crisp night air.
you roll your eyes, scoffing. “that line might work on your other hook-ups, but i know you too well for that.”
he grins, lifting his hands in a pretend surrender.
“alright, alright. so maybe i am laying it on thick. but you can’t blame me— you show up looking like that and expect me to just
behave?”
“mm maybe that was my plan all along, to see if you’ve learned to control yourself.”
he laughs lowly, shaking his head to himself. “you’re dangerous, you know that?”
“dangerous?”, you chuckle. “that’s rich coming from you.”
you’re almost at his building now, and the banter has done absolutely nothing to kill the tension between you. once you reach his door, he turns to you, eyes flickering over your face.
“you’ve still got time to change your mind.” he whispers, his tone sounding almost daring.
you sigh, “actually, i’m just here because i wanted to see if your apartment is still as messy as i remember.”
he chuckles as he unlocks the door, “guess you gotta come in then.”
as you walk inside, your heart is racing. after you hear the door click shut behind you, you feel his hands pull at your waist, turning you around so you’re face-to-face. he walks you backwards until your back meets the cold surface of the front door.
“seriously, y/n, you’re sure about this?” he questions, his dark eyes staring into yours.
all of your doubts has melted away with the warmth of his touch. you wanted him bad. you were sure about that.
“i’m a hundred-percent sure, hamzah.”
in half a second, his lips are connecting with yours. kissing you with an urgency that sent shivers down your body. his hands settle to your hips, pressing your body against the door as he quickly deepens the kiss, almost as if he was making up for lost time.
the familiarity of his warmth, his scent, the pressure of his body against yours— it’s all so undeniably comfortable and intoxicating. you felt like a missing piece of yourself was put back in place.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. his lips place slow kisses along your jaw to your neck as his hands steadily hold you in place.
you close your eyes, allowing yourself to indulge in the sensation.
he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours. “i don’t want to mess this up.” he says breathlessly.
you cradle his face between your hands, “then don’t.” you smile.
that’s all he needs to hear before he presses a quick kiss to your lips and slipping his hand into yours, leading you down the familiar hallway to bedroom.
he glances back at you every so often, making sure that you were real behind him— that this was all really happening.
as you reach his bedroom, the dim light of the hallway spills in. the air of the dark room is thick with anticipation.
he closes the door softly behind you. his gaze then meets yours- his eyes are filled with a certain longing, a certain hunger.
he walks towards you, his hands landing on your hips as he pulls you into another kiss. it’s heated. sloppy. urgent. his fingers press into the skin of your hips as if he simply can’t get enough of you.
he lifts you effortlessly by the hips, causing you to instinctively wrap your legs around him as he carries you to his bed.
he sits at the edge of the bed, holding you down in his lap. his lips crash into yours, his hands slipping under your shirt, wondering aimlessly upon your skin.
you pull away from the kiss and tug at the hem of his t-shirt. hamzah assists you in pulling it off and once it is off, you waste no time running your hands along his biceps, forearms, shoulders, peppering kisses along his jaw.
his head tilts back, “god, i’ve missed you.” he mutters breathlessly.
you lift your head, looking into his eyes, “you never stopped thinking about me, huh?” you tease.
“not for a fucking second.” he replies, a devilish smile plastered on his face as he begins pulling your shirt off of you.
he disregards your shirt, throwing it to the floor.
“lie down for me.” he demands, his voice soft. “wanna see all of you.”
you climb off of his lap, lying down in the middle of his bed. he promptly pulls your skirt down your legs, your underwear coming down with it. you feel vulnerable as you lie completely naked with him watching over you.
however your insecurities dissipate as he whispers, “you’re killing me, y/n. you’re so fucking beautiful and you don’t even know it.”
he gets rid of his jeans, his erection more prominent through just his boxers. he sits down beside you, back flat against his headboard. “c’mere”, he says, motioning you to his lap once again.
the second you straddle him, his mouth finds your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. his fingers splay against your back as you shamelessly rock your hips against his covered erection.
“lift up real quick”, he says patting one of your hips as he gives you the instructions.
you do as he says, going onto your knees.
he leaves a quick kiss to your ribcage before smoothly moving down the mattress, not stopping until his head was perfectly positioned between your thighs.
“sit, baby.” he says. as his hands go to your hips, guiding you to his face. you let out a sharp gasp as your heat reaches his mouth- his tongue instantly working against you.
“fuck, hamzah.” you cry out, your hands flying to the headboard in front of you, desperate to grip onto something.
he hums against you, continuing to eat you out in a way that left you seeing stars. he was absolutely starved for you. prideful, satisfied groans leaving the back of his throat each time you whimpered or moaned incoherent words.
his tongue pushes in and out of you, drags across your folds and circles your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves.
you let out a loud cry as your pleasure reaches its peak. the orgasm especially intense as you hadn’t had one in a while- matthew’s focus was always on his own pleasure rather than yours.
hamzah’s fingers trace your lower back as you catch your breath. after a moment, he helps you lie back down on the bed beside him.
he hovers over you, “you need a second?”
you shake your head as you smirk, reaching your arms upward and linking your fingers at the nape of his neck. “nope, want you right now.”
he smiles excitedly. “arms above your head.”
you listen to him and watch as he reaches to his nightstand, grabbing his belt that laid on top of it.
“you trust me?” he questions. you nod eagerly.
“use your words, baby. are you okay with this?”
“yes, i want it hamzah.” you reply.
he took your wrists in one of his hands and brought them to the metal bar of his headboard. you felt your heart beat faster as he finished looping your wrists to the bar, restricting your movement.
he bends down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. then he starts kissing down your jaw, to your neck, your collarbone, between your breasts. you’re almost certain he’s leaving marks as he goes but it feels way too good for you to care.
he gets up for a second, removing his boxers. you bite your lower lip at the sight of his hard erection.
he climbs back over you, positioning one arm on the side of you while he stroke himself with the other.
he begins slowly running his cock up and down through your folds, a feeling that leaves you whimpering and arching your back.
“you’re such a tease.” you whine, causing him to give you a cocky grin as he pushes his erection inside of you.
you moan at the stretch of him inside of you, a pleasurable pain.
a load groan leaves his throat as soon as he’s fully inside of you, his head tilting back and his eyes shutting at the feeling of your warmth around him.
“fuck, you feel so good.” he says, slowly thrusting in and out of you.
all you can do is nod in agreement as your chest rises and falls rapidly, overwhelmed with pleasure.
as he increases his pace, he reaches under your right leg- throwing it over his shoulder so he can push even deeper inside.
your body is completely at his mercy and it turns you on more than you could ever imagine.
your lips part open in pleasure, a moan of his name escaping them every so often. his thrusts get rougher, leaving you feel as if you were literally floating.
gradually, you feel orgasm build once again, feeling even more intense than the last.
“i’m so close, hamzah.” you cry.
“i know, baby, let it all out.” he replies, keeping up his quick pace.
as you hit your peak, you arch your back more than you thought possible, making up for the lack of being able to grip onto anything with your hands. you whimper his name, repeating it as if it was a fucking prayer.
hamzah reaches his high with you, groaning loudly as you feel his warm release inside of you. the feeling was absolutely euphoric. how did you ever last that long without him?
after he pulls out of you, he reaches to the headboard- releasing your wrists from the restraint. then he plops down next to you on the bed, the both of you lying on your backs trying to catch your breaths after your highs.
after a few seconds, you break the silence.
“holy shit, hamzah.” you exclaim, still out of breath from the intensity of your orgasm.
he chuckles, “you gonna admit that you missed me now?” he teases.
“you’re an idiot.” you laugh.
“of course i missed you.” you continue, turning your head towards him.
he grins, putting his arm around you and kissing your temple.
you two lay there for a few minutes, soaking in the silence of the night, feeling comfortable in the dim lighting of his bedroom.
you reach for your phone on the ground, picking it up to check the time. 1:26 am.
“fuck- it’s late. i guess i should go.” you say, shimmying out of his hold and putting your underwear back on.
“just stay the night— i mean, if you want to. you can use my shower and borrow some clothes.” he suggests, seeming a bit nervous.
you consider it, thinking about how the longer you stay, the more painful it’s gonna feel when it’s all over.
but you are tired. and getting an uber at this time would be difficult so it made the most sense to stay, right?
if you were being honest with yourself, you really just wanted to stay a little longer in the place you felt was your second home for so long.
“you sure? i don’t want to intrude.” you look at him.
“you’re not intruding at all, y/n.” he responds quietly.
he throws on his boxers and leads you to the bathroom, grabbing you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers on the way.
he turns on the water for you as soon as the two of you enter the bathroom, letting the water warm up. he leaves the folded up clothes on the counter and pulls out a spare toothbrush from under his bathroom sink.
“alright- there’s a new toothbrush and all my skincare stuff is still in this drawer if you want to use it any of it, uh- need anything else?” he says, turning back around to you.
“no, this is good, thank you.” you smile softly.
he goes to leave, and then you stop him.
“hamzah, wait.” as nervous you are to ask, you simply crave more of his presence. “will you stay and shower with me?” you question, your voice quiet.
he nods. without a word he walks towards you, helping you take off you underwear. his touch soft and gentle.
after removing his boxers, he guides you into the shower. the two of you engulfed in the steam of the shower, facing one another.
you wash each other’s hair, a constant stream of smiles and giggles coming from both of you. there was such a sweet innocence to the moment. you felt as if you were in your own little world, just you and hamzah.
you completely let yourself forget that you were ex’s, that you were dating matthew, that this was gonna completely change things moving forward.
you just let yourself enjoy what was happening.
you two complete your night routines together. cracking jokes as you bump elbows in the small bathroom.
after, you curl up in his bed. the familiar scent of his sheets and the warmth of hamzah’s body next to yours bringing you immense comfort as you drift off into sleep.


you wake up to the soft morning light filtering through sheer curtains. looking to your side, you find blue curled up next to you. at the end of the bed, red lies sprawled out with his belly up.
“you two haven’t changed at all.” you laugh, reaching down to pet red.
at that moment, hamzah walks into the room carrying a tray with two coffees and a brown paper bag.
“hey sleepy girl. the cats already fighting over you?”
you laugh at his question, “they missed me.” you smile as blue crawls into your lap.
he hands you a coffee and pulls out a bagel from the paper bag.
“iced vanilla latte with oat milk. extra ice. everything bagel. extra cream cheese.” he recites proudly, waiting for your reaction.
“show off.” you tease, taking a bite of the bagel before thanking him.
you two sit on the bed, eating your bagels while playing with the cuddly kittens next to you.
you feel as if the two of you have slipped right back into routine, as if no time had ever passed at all.
but the truth was time had passed. and you two had ended things for a reason. and now, things were about to get even more complicated.
a/n: i never know when to stop lol hope u guys enjoyed it!!!!! the title is from this inhaler song eek k bye muah
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harfanfare · 9 months ago
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Idia drabble, fluff, lots of couple banter
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Your wishlist containing released games is empty.
In the next several minutes after saving a title to one, you can expect a notification that the game is getting downloaded, and a mere seconds after that—several messages from your boyfriend.
“thought u would never play it lol”
“weren't you supposed to be studying??”
He sends a meme degrading your hierarchy of values as if he were any better. It is followed by a request.
“stream it to me when you play it”
And you do, after thanking him yet chiding him for wasting too much money on you without a second thought. His reply was a string of emojis and guarantee that he is doing it all for himself, because “educating you on the topic of latest games is his duty” and he cares about “the boyfriend points”.
“I hope my love’o’meter for u was broken by all that pampering lmao”
“waiting for my cg to load up
”
[NAME]: “not enough affection points”
“damn”
“i need a walkthroughyt to this route”
Idia has you join a voice channel, with you sharing your screen. Playing a game in a separate dorm is a whole different experience than having him beside you, with his hands almost trembling to grab your controller if you couldn’t get past a certain level.
He would always wait for you to ask him for help, though. Then he could let the feeling of self-satisfaction sink in as he easily guided your character to another enemy to slash.
If he only has you on the voice chat, you might be able to finish the game almost fully by yourself.
You can hear the soft sound of his keyboard as he plays something as well. He divides his attention between you and his entertainment, and he throws in commentary to your playthrough, teasing you when you can’t find a secret key to the special gate, bullying you when you find the puzzles too hard, or when you pick the wrong dialogue option.
At some point, you might try to (playfully) mute his microphone, but you can only have eight seconds of silence before he hacks into the options.
“No need to be jealous of my gaming knowledge,” he exclaims, and you know he has that big stupid grin on his face. You huff, and he hums. “But if you want me to help, all you need to do is just ask.”
“I want to go through this game myself!”
“Okay, sure. But you know you have already missed the opportunity for the best ending, no?” He laughs. “That’s what you get for muting me, kitten.”
No need to spoil the ending just to get back at me, you’d love to say, but you learned that the shy boy who couldn’t hold your gaze several months ago is actually a big tease. You must’ve grown too much on him, as he would have continued the bickering even if you showed up in his room. No social anxiety towards you—that’s a bit of a shame, he was cute when you first started dating.

Well, Idia you know now is a cutie as well, even if he can be very annoying sometimes.
“Enough. I’m going to play my otome games, bye.”
You log out, and shut the stream, chuckling all the time. A funny feeling tingled your heart, like always when you won (or have you?) in banter in Idia: your heart is warm enough to probably melt through the ribcage, but a subtle alarm rings in your head. Idia will probably take revenge for this.
He must already be in distress. He doesn’t like you playing otome games alone, as if you could have ever preferred a 2D boy over Idia. The thought makes you laugh.
You plop on your bed, unlocking your phone and tapping an icon of the name game you’ve installed. Although playing it with Idia would have been funnier, you are going to play him just out of spite.

And after that, you will send him a wall of text about those handsome characters, because he needs to be updated on your current obsessions.
The title screen appears before everything crashes and the screen goes black. Several messages in neon-blue futuristic font colour appear one by one.
An error has occurred.
Caught exception:
Traceback (most recent call last):
File “characters”, line 46, in script
File “stats”, line 153, in script
File “story”, line 665, in script
File “achievements”, line 411, in log.1
File “backup_data”, line 139, in log
To continue:
“[Name]-san. Please come to our dorm. My brother is moping (so he won’t be finishing his project anytime soon, which is, really bad) and I would appreciate you having mercy on him.
Once you come, I will restore your data! It’s a promise :>
— ORTHO”

Damn those Shrouds.
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chuusheartattck · 4 months ago
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THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)
Chapter 18- Feeling lucky ☕
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10 minutes had gone by since Xiao last texted you. You were getting nervous since the reception desk lady has been staring at you ever since you walked in.
“Do you need something or are you going to just wait here?” She rudely asked.
What a bitch.
Just as you were about to answer, the elevator dings.
Xiao walks out and spots you. “You actually showed up.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Xiao only chuckled and began walking to the elevator. You turn to the lady and shrug before following him. You both got inside and he pressed the button for the 12th floor.
The elevator ride was filled with an awkward silence. None of you spoke a word. It had been a while since you last saw each other. The last time you tried to make plans, you did flake last minute. Not knowing what else to do, you checked your phone to see if Scara had texted you.
Nothing.
You turn to Xiao wanting to say something but nothing came out. Luckily, the elevator doors open and you walk out with Xiao following you.
“It’s over here.” He points to the left.
He opens the door to the practice room. You’re blinded by the bright lights. A giant mirror that covers the entire wall is on the right. The room being huge would be an understatement.
“I think Furina hates us because our practice room is half the size of this.” You look around in awe.
“That’s because Venti uses a bunch of backup dancers for his performances.” Xiao replies. “Plus Ei likes to go all out for the company.”
Inazuma Entertainment was no joke.
“So uh how are we going to do this?” You question. “I mean like with the performance how do you want it to go?”
Xiao sits on the floor to think. You do the same and sit down next to him.
He turns to you. “I was probably thinking something like we both do our sets one at a time on the big stage. Then come down to second stage where it’s closer to the audience for the cover.”
“I think that could work. Honestly I feel like you should go first. Your songs are depressing and mine is more upbeat. So it’d be a mood killer if you were to go after me. No offense.” You suggested.
Xiao let out a small laugh. “My songs aren’t that depressing.”
“Your newest song is one I’d listen to if I was going through a break up or something.” You replied back with.
“Like You Do is actually about missing someone.” He corrected you.
You repeated what he said in a nerd voice. He playfully rolled his eyes at you.
“Whatever. I’ll go first and we can work on the transitions to your song later. How should we do the cover?” Xiao asked.
You paused for a moment.
How DO you want it to go?
You took out your phone to look at the performance of the original singers with Xiao.
You did notice that Scara hasn’t texted back.
Maybe he’s busy?
“It looks like all they do is just stand around stage looking hot.” You mention as you turned towards him. “Do you know how to dance?”
Xiao raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Let’s choreograph a dance for the song.” You get up from the floor. “It’d be boring if we just stood there and did nothing.”
He looks at you for a moment before sighing and gets up with you. A smile forms on your face realizing he just complied with your decision.
“When I was a trainee I trained for dancing but I don’t normally do it for my songs.” He warns you. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be.”
You walk over to the speaker and begin to play a song.
“And that is why I’ll teach you a bit of the choreo for this song.” You say with a proud smile on your face. “I learned it when I was a trainee.”
.
.
.
As you were watching him, he actually wasn’t bad. If he was in a group he’d probably be the main dancer. It’s a shame he doesn’t use it to his advantage.
“How was it?” Xiao asked.
“I’m going to cut this short since you’re completely out dancing me.” You say pausing the music. “Let’s start making a new dance for the song.”
.
.
.
Hours have gone by and you two finally finalized the final choreo. You checked your phone for the time.
“Oh shit I didn’t even realize the time.” 11 whole hours have gone by since you had first arrived. It was now 9 pm.
Still though, no text from Scara.
What could he be doing?
“We’re basically done so we can wrap this up. Do you want to order food?” Xiao replies with taking out his phone.
“Uhh sure what do you want?”
“Anything is fine.”
“What about Wingstop?” You suggested.
“Ok.” He said while ordering. “What do you want?”
“Korean bbq, lemon pepper, and cajun.”
“It’ll come in 30 minutes.” He said while shutting off his phone. “I already paid for it so don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? You know you didn’t have to.” It was nice for him to pay but you were the one that suggested Wingstop in the first place.
“It’s fine.” He goes over to where the mics are. “Let’s try practicing the choreo with the singing before the food gets here.” Xiao passes you a microphone.
Just as you two were about to start, you notice him humming a very familiar tune. One a singer would hum if they were working late.
“Are you seriously humming my song?” You look over at him.
“It’s fitting for right now.”
You couldn’t hold back your smile. It felt nice that he knew the lyrics to Espresso. In the back of your mind however, you wished it was someone else who remembered.
.
It was already the end of the fifth practice and the music has just faded, leaving a lingering echo of its rhythm in the air. You and Xiao are standing close to each other, your breaths slightly heavy from the exertion of the practice.
Your bodies are almost touching, and the heat from the exertion mixes with the warmth of the room. Your eyes lock and you can only hear the panting from being out of breath. Your faces are only inches apart.
Xiao takes a small step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours.
A voice enters the room.
“Hey Xiao I got your- WOAHH.”
You both turn like a deer caught in headlights. You both take a step back trying to gain composure.
Of course it was fucking Venti.
“What are you two doing?” Venti was holding a Wingstop bag.
“Reading!” You quickly replied with.
Shit.
“Yeah more like reading each other’s lips.” Venti giggled while handing the bag to Xiao. “I picked up your Wingstop from downstairs. I knew you would be here but I didn’t know you were with Y/n. Just as I suspected, two know each other. Sorry for cockblocking though.”
You could only awkwardly laugh.
Would you have actually done anything with Xiao?
Venti speaks again. “Well since I’m here and I did pick up the food. I deserve to have some.” He says as he sits down on the floor. “Plus I have some questions for you two.”
Fuck.
You and Xiao sit down next to Venti. There’s now a heavy silence between the three of you. You both watch as Venti opens the bag and takes everything out. Acting like he paid for the damn food.
You watch Venti start stuffing his face. It was like watching a live mukbang.
“What? Don’t just stare at me.” Venti’s words could barely be audible with the amount of food in his mouth. “So how do you two know each other?”
“From the party.” Xiao said while grabbing a piece.
“You two knew each other from that long?” Venti looked surprised. “Damn. I knew something was up though. Can’t believe I was right. What are you two doing so late?”
You took a sip of your water before replying. “Practicing for the tcas. Didn’t you see on twitter?”
“No I deleted twitter for a while. Someone said I sounded like dollar tree Troye Sivan.”
Xiao snickered.
“Not funny. If anything I sound better than him.”
You and Xiao both looked at each other before bursting out laughing.
“Fuck you guys.” Venti huffed.
Another silence came. You had no idea why but it was difficult to talk to them. That is, until Xiao asked you a question.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you. How do you know Scara?”
You almost choked on your food at the mention of his name. Nonetheless, you quickly gained your composure. “He was in my same fifth grade class but he doesn’t remember since we never talked. We went to the same middle school but never talked there either. Junior year I was a TA for his math class. We would occasionally talk and I would help him cheat on the tests by giving him the answer keys. After junior prom is when we got close, and in the summer we would talk a lot. Same with the beginning of senior year.” You paused for a moment. “But during senior year he got distant so we drifted and it wasn’t the same as before. We took graduation pictures but that’s about it. I cut off contact with him shortly after.”
“Well now you’re texting him again right?” Venti piped in. Little did he know, he was being an instigator.
“Not really, we just text each other sometimes. It’s still not the same how it was before.” Reminiscing on the past made you realize how upset you were with how everything turned out. He was a dick before, and still is, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss your guy’s conversations.
“You shouldn’t worry about him. He doesn’t seem to care.” Xiao finally spoke. “If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother.”
This confused you. “What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t even be in contact with him still. Me personally, I would block him.” Xiao’s demeanor was different than usual. In his mind, he was panicking. He didn’t want you to be in contact with Scaramouche. It would ruin his chances with you.
None of you guys spoke after that. What was there to say? Even Venti couldn’t think of anything. It was obvious what Xiao was trying to do.
All three of you finished and Venti decided to leave right after. He only came for the food. Xiao offered to walk you to your car, the walk there was pretty quiet.
When you got to your car he finally spoke.
“Sorry for what I said earlier. It’s your choice on what to do.”
“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it.” You reassured him.
You hugged him goodbye and you got inside your car. As you were driving back home, you started thinking about how the day went. It was nice to see Xiao and talk to him, but it didn’t feel right. He was a nice guy, but you found it hard to be yourself around him. Maybe once you get to know him more it’d change.
The whole day went by and Scaramouche still has you on delivered.
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Masterlist II Previous II Next
A/N: I hope you xiao stans like this chapter đŸ€­ I was craving wingstop while writing this if you couldn’t tell. The last two parts of act 2 will be very dramatic!! Also I created the storyline for my next smau (aka xiao centered) so i might post it soon if i feel like it ✊
ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)
Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.
Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr
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starboye · 3 months ago
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pairing: nate jacobs x male reader
request: Nate Jacobs learns that Male reader is a new student, and he tries to have a one-night stand with him or something, but male reader immediately shows his dislike towards Nate. This catches Nate off guard, and he tries to "be friends" with him, but Male reader declines or simply walks away from Nate causing Nate to be furious and more determined to get in bed with him, however, Nate soon realizes he catches feelings for Male reader and wants to him to be his boyfriend?
warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing
you had just moved to california after your dad got a big promotion so of course you were the new student at east highland highschool, you heard some good and bad things about it (mostly bad things) but nonetheless you went and of course they assigned you a school guide, some guy named nate jacobs and immediately he wanted you.
he showed you around the school, showing you the great wonders that came with the highschool in the most monotone voice but from time to time he'd glance over to admire your ass, that luscious ass he wanted to fuck so badly "hey wanna come to a party, its happening later tonight if you wanna swing by" nate asks trying to appear nonchalant "yeah id be down" you say mimicking his nonchalant.
and with that you and nate finished the tour and said good bye to each other, but for some reason you couldn't escape nates mind, no matter how hard he tried to think of something else the thought of you always bounced around in his mind, was it maybe that he actually liked you no impossible he just wants to fuck you that's it nate lied to himself as the bell rang and school ended.
you entered the house party to the sound of loud ruckus, people yelling, and music blaring, with the overwhelming smell of alcohol, but luckily you noticed nate as he waved you over "50 bucks says i fuck this slut by the end of the night" nate says to his friends as you walk closer "ill take that bet" mckay says before nate walks over to you "wanna get some drinks" nate asks leaning over to near your ear so you could hear him better "yeah sure" you yell back before walking over to a more quiet part of the house.
"so what's a sweet thing like you doing here all alone" nate asks sipping on his drink as you lean onto a wall "no friends" you reply looking up at him with disinterested eyes "well wanna make a friend tonight" nate smirks placing his hand beside you head on the wall and leaning over you "is this your way of flirting" you ask snickering a bit.
"what" nate questions leaning back up "if you wanna sleep with me just ask" you chuckle taking another sip of your drink "well then wanna have sex with me" nate asks thinking he's about to easily win his bet but his hopes are killed when you respond with no "why don't you wanna sleep with me" he asks "because you look like a total douche" you say before walking away to get another drink, nate watched as your fine ass walked away from him, he was now determined to have sex with you.
after that day you caught him watching you, whether that be in his truck as you walked home from school or from afar while you were doing school work, he'd even sometimes buy you expansive gifts with handwritten notes that you're sure he got from pinterest but you shut him down every time "c'mon just once" nate pleas "no nate, not now and not ever" you say giving him the diamond bracelet back and walking away as he was forced to watch that ass walk away for the hundredth time.
nate sat up at night wondering why he wanted you so much, why he needed to sleep with you so badly, was it because he felt something deeper for you and wanted to try and push that feeling out by sleeping with you but it would inevitably come back up... no it couldn't possibly be that, but the thought was to much, he got up and drove to your house in the middle of the night.
"you up" nate texted your number (he had got it from you on the first day of school) "what do you want" you text back "come outside" he texts, you look outside to see his truck on the other side of the street and huff before putting on some clothes and walking out to his car, seeing him with a little smile on his face you get into the passenger seat "what do you want nate" you ask slightly agitated as nate just woke you up.
"okay so i- ive been thinking right and... i don't know how to say this but..." nate stammers over his words making you even more annoyed "just spit it out" you say leaning over the arm rest to kiss him, his lips lightly chasing after yours "uhm i was gonna ask will you be my boyfriend" nate nervously asks "yes" you smile finally seeing the nate that isn't a sex hungry animal "so does that mean we can fuck now" nate asks.
"one step at a time you horny fuck" you say before opening the door to get out the car but nate pulls you back one last time to kiss you, this kiss more passionate and heartfelt than the last, maybe fucking him wouldn't be the worst thing ever
taglist: @spermeboy @mailmango @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat
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lilacwants · 5 months ago
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heartbeat.
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18+ notes: this man drives me feralll, i just love writing about him so much <3. summary: you know infidelity is awful, but when it comes to him, you just can’t help yourself. warnings: infidelity, mature/explicit content, discretion is advised. word count: 1.5k
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You had always been drawn to the rough around the edges type. Billy Butcher, with his perpetual five o'clock shadow and cocky grin, had fit that bill perfectly. It wasn't love, not by any stretch, but it was something.
Something volatile, something passionate.
You and Billy had a history, a cycle of on-again, off-again that never seemed to resolve itself.
Now, you were with someone new. A stable man, kind and reliable. He made you breakfast, held your hand in public and made you feel safe. It was everything Billy wasn't, and yet, there was a part of you that ached for the chaos, the raw intensity that Billy brought into your life.
Your phone buzzed on the table.
Instinctively, you turned it over, not needing to see the name to know who it was. Your new boyfriend, Mark, was in the kitchen, humming as he cooked. He was oblivious to the storm brewing inside you.
Billy's texts were always the same - blunt, unapologetic. They spoke of desire, a pull that neither of you could resist. Tonight was no different. The message was simple:
"Meet me."
You knew you shouldn't. You had promised yourself that this time was different, that you were moving on. But as the evening wore on, the memory of Billy's touch, his voice, became too much to ignore. You made excuses to Mark about needing some air and slipped out.
The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where secrets were kept and sins were forgotten.
Billy was already there, a drink in hand, his eyes finding yours the moment you walked in. That unspoken connection, the kind that sparks trouble and passion in equal measure, crackled between you. You sighed, knowing what would come next.
He didn't bother with pleasantries. "You're late," he said, his voice a blend of mischief and intent.
"Trying to forget about a certain asshole," you replied, meeting his gaze with a challenge.
Billy smirked. "Well, lucky for you, I'm just the man to help with that."
The conversation was minimal after that.
Words weren't necessary. The chemistry between you spoke volumes. The walk back to his place was quick, your heart pounding in your chest. As soon as the door closed behind you, clothes started coming off. It was always like this - raw, urgent, desperate.
He pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a ferocity that took your breath away. His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, just the way you liked it. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching towards him, needing more.
Billy lifted you, carrying you to the bedroom.
He tossed you onto the bed, stripping off his shirt, his eyes dark with lust. "You've been ignoring me sweetheart, we can’t have that now, can we?" he growled.
You barely had time to react before he was on you, his hands roaming possessively over your body. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,
"You need to learn your place, sweetheart."
His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, as he pinned your wrists above your head. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power and desire in his touch making you dizzy. His free hand trailed down your side, sending shivers through your body, before gripping your hip firmly.
"You won't be ignoring me anymore," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low, dangerous promise.
He kissed you then, hard and possessive, his body pressing into yours with a fierce urgency. The kiss was a collision of need and frustration, his hands gripping your hips as if afraid to let go. You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like you were devouring each other.
Billy's hands roamed over your body, rough and demanding, each touch igniting a fire under your skin. He tore at your clothes with a kind of desperation, leaving a trail of discarded fabric in his wake. His lips left yours, traveling down your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving marks that would serve as reminders of this night.
The first thrust was hard, almost punishing, and you cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain. Billy didn't relent, his rhythm brutal and relentless. Each movement was a release of the tension that had built up between you, a physical manifestation of the emotions you both kept bottled up. You clung to him, nails digging into his back, drawing him closer, needing more.
He knew exactly how to touch you, his hands finding all the right places. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving bruises you knew you'd feel in the morning. But you didn't care. In that moment, nothing existed outside of the two of you, tangled in a mess of sheets and sweat. His mouth found your breast, teeth grazing your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.
"Billy," you gasped, the sound of his name a plea on your lips. He responded by thrusting deeper, harder, driving you to the edge. You felt the tension coil within you, a tight knot ready to snap.
He whispered filthy things in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. The words, the tone, everything about him was designed to push you over the brink. You arched into him, your body straining, reaching for release. And then it hit you, a wave of pleasure so intense it left you trembling, crying out his name.
Billy followed you over the edge, his body tensing, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his own release. For a moment, you were both suspended in that space, connected in a way that was more than just physical.
Afterward, you laid there, trying to catch your breath. Billy was beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his breathing heavy. For a moment, it felt like old times, like the world outside didn't exist. But reality was always just around the corner, waiting to crash down on you.
"You should go," he said eventually, his voice gruff.
You nodded, knowing he was right. As much as you wanted to stay, to pretend that things could be different, you knew they couldn't.
You slipped out of bed, gathering your clothes, avoiding his gaze.
Before you left, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back for one last kiss. It was softer, almost tender and it broke your heart a little.
"You know where to find me," he murmured against your lips.
You nodded, unable to speak, and walked out the door. The night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of Billy's touch. You made your way back home, the weight of what you had done settling in.
Mark was waiting when you got back. He looked up from the couch, concern etched on his face.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," you said, forcing a smile. "Just needed some air."
He nodded, accepting your lie without question. You went to bed together, his arms around you, but it wasn't the same. The guilt gnawed at you, and you couldn't help but think of Billy, of the mess you couldn't seem to escape.
Days turned into weeks, and you tried to focus on your life with Mark. He was everything you thought you needed, but there was always something missing. Billy's presence lingered, a ghost that haunted you.
He'd text occasionally, short messages that reminded you of what you were trying to forget.
One night, you found yourself at the bar again, staring into the bottom of an empty glass. Billy walked in, his eyes finding yours immediately. It was a dance you both knew too well, and despite your best intentions, you found yourself in his arms once more.
The cycle continued. Nights of passion, followed by mornings of regret. You wondered if things could have been different if you hadn't let it get this far. Maybe you were crazy, as he liked to say.
“Are we dating? Are we fucking? Are we best friends? Are we even something Billy?” you'd ask, frustration seeping into your voice.
Billy would just smirk, "Something in between, love."
You wished you never let it get to this point, wished you never gave in to the temptation that was Billy Butcher. But then, he'd whisper something filthy in bed, and you'd remember why you let it happen in the first place.
It was a mess, but it was your mess. And for now, that was enough.
Mark deserved better, and deep down, you knew that. But the pull of Billy was something you couldn't resist, a magnet that drew you in despite the pain it caused. You lived in the in-between, caught in a web of desire and regret, hoping one day to find the strength to break free.
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nadvs · 8 months ago
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watch and learn (part seven)
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning drug and alcohol use
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summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
The next morning, you sleep in, recovering from the party. Your head is still foggy as you scroll through your phone in bed, thinking about last night.
You spent a lot of time with Blake. He was nice and charming and all you did was talk and share innocent touches. He’s nothing but green flags.
Yet your mind kept reminding you of Rafe. And it kept replaying the sight of him kissing another girl.
Something between you two shifted the other day, when you dropped by after his dad’s visit. You agreed that you were friends. And then did something that friends definitely don’t do.
Then, of course, he took a few days to be a jerk. But last night, he mustered up a sorry for you, flirting with you again.
It’s almost like he’s leaving breadcrumbs, making you think he has feelings, with the possessiveness and the compliments and the looks he gives you. But time and time and time again, Rafe proves to you that he’s a douchebag who’s not looking for anything more than sex.
And neither are you, you remind yourself. Not with Rafe. He would break your heart if given the chance. And you’re not giving him the chance.
You see a text from Rafe from a couple of hours ago: you up?
You reply: i am now.
You open Instagram to see that Blake posted a story a few minutes ago. It’s a photo of a sign on the side of a building. He’s at a paintball range with his frat brothers. It must be another bonding event.
The text on the photo reads: let’s goooo red team.
You reply to the story: putting all my money on the red team.
He responds: I’ll win for you :)
Rafe has never played paintball before, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. His gun is loaded with blue pellets and he has Blake in his sights before the starting bell even rings.
This will be the best way to release his anger over the fact that he’s losing you. Well, other than getting naked with you and fucking until he can’t think straight. But you weren’t answering your phone this morning. So, this’ll do.
The field is vast under the cloudy sky, cluttered full of obstacles and barriers and embankments. When the game starts, Rafe has one goal and one goal only.
He hates how you were smiling at Blake last night. He hates how you touched his shoulder. How you laughed. How close you were.
Mere minutes into the game, he’s behind a colorfully splattered wall and finally finds Blake in his crosshairs. His finger presses down on the trigger over and over and over again, each pop loud and echoing, coating the front of Blake’s vest with bright blue drops of paint.
“Jesus, Rafe, I think you got him, man!” one of his teammates shouts with a laugh.
Even though one of his buddies on the red team nails Rafe in his arm a couple of times near the end of the round, the game ends in a blue team victory.
As the boys make their way back into the building, Blake shoves Rafe’s shoulder.
“The fuck was that, Cameron?” Blake asks, pointing to his vest, sheathed in blue. His smile is wide, but his tone is sharp. He’s trying to hide it, but he seems actually pissed off. Good.
“My bad, man,” Rafe half-chuckles, lifting his helmet off his head. “Got lost in the game. I love to win.”
The high from winning this stupid game is so intensely gratifying that Rafe wants to keep beating Blake in everything. Including in getting your attention.
When Rafe checks his phone as they leave the range, he sees you finally responded. He’s craving you now, but he’ll see you in a few hours at tonight’s party. And he wants Blake to see you with him.
He was stupid to think he could stay away from you. He’s going to see you as many times as you let him before your touches with Blake have more meaning behind them.
The “anything but clothes” party is slated to start at the Sigma Chi house in a few minutes. You and Liv decide to show up right on time to hang out with the guys and drink before the liquor runs out.
You made a stop at a party store off-campus to buy rolls of caution tape together, deciding to wrap the bright yellow nylon into haphazard tube tops and mini skirts, stuck together with clear packing tape. You’re careful so that the sticky tape is only on the caution tape, not directly touching any skin at all.
When you enter the house, you follow the noise in the kitchen. A group of frat boys are in the dining room, setting up the keg and putting out cups.
Blake and Rafe are standing with four other guys, talking as they set up.
Rafe should’ve put more effort into what he wore. He has a towel around his hips and when you walk in wearing next to nothing, he regrets it immediately. A boner would be way too fucking obvious.
Blake greets you with a side-hug and Rafe cracks his knuckles under the table.
“Hey, how was paintball?” you ask. “Did you win?”
“Lost and I’m wounded.” Blake’s wearing a plastic bag over his chest and another around his hips. He puts his hand over his sternum, the bag crinkling beneath his fingers.
“What the hell happened?” you laugh, placing your hand on his. He pretends to wince in pain when you touch him, making you laugh again. The sight makes Rafe scowl.
“Rafe went all Scarface on him,” Sam says. You look to Rafe, and at the same time, glass shatters in the kitchen behind you.
“Shit!” a guy shouts.
“So glad tomorrow’s thing is outside,” Blake mumbles. “This place is a mess and it’s only gonna get worse.”
“What’s tomorrow?” you ask.
“Family day,” Sam says. “We’re having a barbecue.”
“Do you guys have something going on every weekend?” Liv asks.
“Pretty much,” Blake in a bragging tone.
“And when do you study?” you say.
“During the week, fun police,” Blake mumbles with a playful smile. You hate the label and think back to a conversation you had with him over text about nicknames.
“Don’t call me that, babe,” you respond. Blake told you before that he loathes being called babe.
Rafe doesn’t know you’re saying it ironically. And he’s trying not to lose his mind. He looks down at his beer and takes another sip.
A moment passes and he doesn’t notice that Blake is trying to get his attention until he realizes seven pairs of eyes are on him.
“What?” Rafe asks.
“Who are you bringing tomorrow?” Blake repeats.
“I’m not coming.” Rafe can’t imagine even mentioning the event to anyone in his family.
“What? Why not?” Blake says. “I need to meet who raised you to be so fucking competitive.”
Rafe looks away the same way he did when you confronted his dad for yelling at him. It’s not exactly annoyance in his expression, like you’re used to seeing. It’s discomfort. Embarrassment.
You don’t want anyone to grill him. Not about his family. You can still hear the way his father snapped at him, asked what he was crying for.
“Sounds like you’re just mad that you’re such an easy target,” you say to Blake, primarily to take everyone’s eyes off of Rafe.
You earn a few jeers, heads turning back in your direction. Rafe’s eyes find yours and you glance at him to see a softened expression, the hard lines in his face suddenly gone.
“I’d like to see you try to play paintball,” Blake says.
“Yeah, you’re really selling it,” you respond sarcastically, snapping your gaze back to meet his.
“What other events do you guys have planned?” Liv asks.
As Blake goes into the schedule for the rest of the year - including a community service drive, a Sadie Hawkins formal, and a camping trip - Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you.
He can’t forget how you stood up to his father, a total stranger, and told him to calm down. He can’t forget how happy your silly little gift made him.
Maybe you were just flirting with Blake, but he wonders if you purposely took the attention off of him, knowing what you know about his family.
You two are friends that have great sex, he knows that, but he’s staring at you like you’re more. You can be irritating and a tight-ass, but you’re kind and thoughtful, too.
Rafe looks away. These thoughts make him uneasy all over. He’s not a feelings kind of guy. And Blake is so obviously your type and Rafe is nothing like him.
He’s not stupid. Anything more than sex between you two would be ridiculous.
The house fills up with partygoers quickly, air thickening, music loud and conversations even louder.
Later on in the night, Rafe’s buzzed and standing by the keg, watching you dance with your friend. The way you roll your hips reminds him of how you move when you’re on top of him and he needs to force himself to look away before he gets hard. Again.
Eventually, he notices you head towards the back of the house alone and he takes the opportunity to talk to you.
When you leave the bathroom and head down the dark hallway back towards the party, you notice Rafe leaning by the wall, a beer bottle in his hand. There’s only a handful of people around, engaging in quiet, private conversation as the music throbs around you.
“Hey,” he says. He wishes he thought of something more clever to say, but he’s pretty close to being drunk.
It’s kind of sweet that he’s waiting here for you. But then you remind yourself he’s just horny.
“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting down his athletic body and to the navy blue towel sitting at his hips. “Pretty lazy of you to use a towel.”
“Nah, it’s smart,” he quips. “That tape is perfect for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say.
“You can read, can’t you?” Rafe simply says, his hand ghosting over the bold CAUTION on your chest. You look down at the way his long fingers just barely brush over your breasts, imagining the way they were massaging you earlier this week.
The reminder sends a swirl of warm passion in your core. You want him again. And again. And again.
“Are you trying to say I’m dangerous? I’m not the one attacking people during an innocent game of paintball.”
“I got hit, too, okay?” Rafe complains. He brings his right arm forward, showing you his flexed bicep.
“I don’t see anything,” you laugh.
“These red marks are turning into bruises,” he says, pointing to his skin. “I’ll need you to take care of me.”
“I think you’re just being a fuckboy,” you respond.
Rafe’s smirk is playful and inviting and you realize you’re only inches away from each other, eyes connected and smiles mirrored.
You want to see him naked again. Neither of you had any pointers last time you hooked up, but that doesn’t mean you’re done learning, right?
“I’ve never gotten a ‘you up?’ text at ten in the morning,” you say. Admittedly, you were a little dejected that he didn’t reply to your message earlier today.
“You woke up late,” Rafe says, eyebrows quirking up for a second. “When’d you even get home?”
In reality, he wants to know if you were with Blake. He didn’t see you at last night’s party after he made out with a girl just to unsuccessfully make you jealous. Maybe you messed around with Blake and stayed up late with him.
“I don’t remember,” you admit with a defeated laugh. “I think I need to cool it on the partying. You frat boys never stop. I can’t believe how many things you guys have going on.”
Rafe breathes a sardonic chuckle, looking down, and you’re immediately reminded of tomorrow’s event.
Just like that, the air between you shifts. You’re both thinking of the same thing. You’re painfully aware of it.
Silence settles between you and you nervously scratch your arm.
“I wouldn’t want to bring him, either,” you finally say. Rafe’s eyes meet yours. He instantly knows you’re talking about his father.
Now he’s sure you weren’t just carrying on conversation with Blake earlier. You purposely took the attention off of him. Because you’re friends. Friends help each other.
“Yeah,” is all Rafe can say.
“Did you
” you say softly. “Do you not have anyone else you’d want to come?”
Rafe thinks of his life back home. His father, who never shies away from expressing his disappointment. His step-mother, who he has no relationship with. Sarah, who’s the clear favorite. Wheezie, who Rafe actually likes and sort of misses, but wouldn’t be able to visit on her own.
“No,” he admits. “It’s
 I don’t have that kind of family.”
“Must be why you’re into this whole frat thing,” you say. You can’t stop yourself from trying to understand his complexities.
Rafe didn’t think about it that way. But the sense of camaraderie he has with his frat brothers, except for one in particular, does give him a sense of belonging he’s been chasing forever. He didn’t even realize it until you said it.
But that’s what you do. You make him think and feel things he hasn’t before and it’s so uncomfortable and exciting at the same time.
“You’re
” Rafe tugs at his earlobe. “You’re a really nice person.”
“What?” You laugh in disbelief. Is he being sweet to you outside of the bedroom?
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he says. “When he asked me why I’m not going tomorrow, you changed the subject.”
He can’t say Blake’s name.
“Guilty,” you say. You settle into eye contact that’s unlike anything you two have shared before. Rafe huffs, wanting to force away the tension sitting in his chest.
“I think you’re into this whole frat thing, too, by the way,” he says. He leans even closer to you, blue eyes focused on your lips.
“Not at all,” you joke, shaking your head. “I hate you guys.”
“Really,” Rafe mutters, his tone low. “Even me?”
“Especially you.”
“You don’t remember what you said last time we fucked? When I asked if I could put it in?”
Your skin burns as you think back to the way he asked you if you were ready before burying into you.
“You must be thinking about another girl,” you say. He won’t even entertain the thought.
“You said please,” he rasps.
“Well, at least I have manners,” you reply, looking him in the eye as anticipation curls in your stomach, refusing to shy away.
“You gonna beg me for it again?”
“I did not beg,” you respond.
You want to tease him even more, tell him you thought you were experts now, so what’s the point of hooking up anymore? But you don’t need it to be instructional to have sex with him. He doesn’t seem to need it, either.
“Don’t tell me you’re still shy about liking it.” His smirk is taunting. This cracks you, a smile spreading on your face again, your eyes trailing down his bare chest.
“Maybe,” you tease. It’s a lie. You’re not shy at all anymore. The sense of shame you felt around sex before is gone. At least with Rafe, it has.
“How can you be shy when you’re wearing that?” Rafe asks. “Showing fucking everything.”
“You’re one to talk,” you say, nose crinkling. The way you cock your head as you gaze at his body, your lashes fluttering as you blink, makes his gut warm and his groin tighten. Wow. He really doesn’t even need to touch you to get hard.
“And don’t act like you don’t like my outfit,” you say, meeting his eyes again. You shock yourself with your forwardness. He looks pleasantly surprised, too.
You hear your name being shouted. Liv rushes towards you, hands pressed over her chest.
“My tape broke,” she laughs. “I almost flashed everyone.”
“Really?” you gasp. Rafe is annoyed that you got interrupted, but he finds that he really likes what caring for somebody looks like on you. Your eyes deepen. Your brows lower. Your guard is down. You’re stunning.
“We should’ve brought extra tape,” Liv says.
“We can borrow a shirt,” you suggest. “Let’s find Blake.”
Rafe is seething. Blake. Of fucking course.
You offer Rafe a tight smile before taking your friend’s hand and walking in front of her to shield her.
When you find Blake, he leads you and Liv upstairs to his room, scrambling through his dresser to find a shirt for Liv.
“I’m not gonna get kicked out for wearing clothes, am I? It’s against the rules,” Liv says.
“No, only ‘cause you’re friends with fun police over here,” Blake replies, smiling over his shoulder as he hands a black shirt to Liv. “Special privileges.”
“I told you not to call me that,” you say with a laugh. Liv pulls the shirt over her head.
“Thanks!” she calls as she walks out of the room, a grin on her face. You know she’s purposely leaving you alone with Blake.
You meet Blake’s eyes, standing in the middle of his quiet, private room.
“Study fort’s gone,” you notice, looking down at his bare floor.
“Oh. Yeah,” he says stiffly. It’s awkward between you and you’re not sure why. “You look
”
Blake doesn’t finish his sentence. You knew he was a bit on the shy side, but he’s actually nervous.
You would normally find it endearing. But because of the intoxicating way Rafe was talking to you downstairs, how he’s so unafraid of telling you how attracted he is to you, you feel tense around Blake for the first time.
Still, intrigue coarses through you. You like him. You want him to flirt with you and to touch you and to finally kiss you. But he’s still.
Rafe spots your friend in the crowd with a t-shirt on. And you’re not next to her. He pushes through people to stand beside Liv and ask her where you are.
“Upstairs with Blake,” Liv simply responds. Rafe glances up the staircase, lips twisting as he nods. He stalks away, storming through the house with no real idea of where to go.
He paces around for a few minutes. He wants to rush upstairs and hurt Blake. Badly. Without a paintball gun this time. The thought of you being up there in his room, of his hands on you, of him on top of you
 It’s too much. He’s grinding his teeth so hard that it hurts.
Rafe has had enough. He heads back towards the front of the house, not sure what the hell he’ll do if he walks in on Blake on top of you, but before he can go upstairs, he sees you in the crowd, chatting with your friend.
“I left you alone up there for a reason,” Liv says quietly when you approach her.
“Oh, I’m aware,” you laugh. “But the vibe was weird, so I left. I think we were both nervous.”
After Blake couldn’t finish his sentence, you thanked him for helping your friend and split.
“Do you not like him?” Liv asks.
You do. But you think you like someone else, too. And it’s terrifying.
Rafe weaves through the crowds, approaching you, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. You watch him duck to speak into your ear.
“Leave with me,” he says so only you can hear him over the music. You look at Liv, who has a sly, knowing expression on her face.
“I can’t abandon my friend just to hook up with you,” you say to him. A painful pang of rejection twists inside him.
“But do you want to?” Rafe asks. He needs to be sure. What if your next words are that you’re with Blake now?
Your pulse is racing. The promise of another night with Rafe is electrifying.
“Yes,” you admit. He smiles to himself, pulling back to look at Liv.
“You gonna be okay if she leaves?” Rafe says, tilting his head towards you.
“Of course, if she wants to,” Liv replies with an amused laugh.
Rafe pulls you towards him, out of the crowd. And for once, he’s actually glad to see Blake, who’s standing by the keg with a few friends.
He wraps his arm around your waist, mumbling to you that he’s going to rip that stupid tape off of you, as he glares at Blake, who’s staring at you two with a disconcerted grimace.
He leads you out of the rowdy house, grip tight on you as if he could lose you again.
The second you’re in Rafe’s dorm room, his hands are on your ass, fingers dipping under the tape. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing him heatedly as you stand by his bed.
You can smell his cologne and his shampoo as his tongue runs over yours.
“You know everyone was looking at you tonight, right?” he says between kisses.
“No,” you scoff. While he’s helped you gain some confidence, you can’t imagine thinking of yourself as the most desired girl in a room.
“I told you not to do that,” he says against your lips. You feel the nylon around your ass lift off your skin as he tugs it away, pulling apart the material, tape unsticking.
“Do what?” you mutter. He grips your ass, feeling the fabric of your underwear on his palms. You lower a hand to undo the knot keeping up the towel on him.
“You pretend like you’re not beautiful and it pisses me off,” he says. Beautiful. He said hot before. But not beautiful. He never used that word with you. “How hard do I have to fuck you for you to get it?”
“Rafe,” you gasp with a giggle.
“How hard?” he asks. “Until you can’t talk?”
His towel drops and he kisses your neck, tugging at the tape bound around your chest. You shift to wrap your hand around his length over his boxers, aching for the feeling of him inside of you.
Rafe loves that you touch him like this now, without any hesitation. He rips the tape off of your chest, his fingers burning.
While you wore panties just in case, you’re glad you went without a bra simply because of the way Rafe breathes when he looks down to see your bare chest.
He fondles your tits with eager, rough movements, squeezing as he clenches his jaw.
“Every guy was staring at you, but only I get to do this.” His lips are against your neck, breath hot.
You tense for a second. He shouldn’t say shit like this. His words are possessive and tender and way too fucking heavy.
But you push yourself out of your head, focusing on how you feel physically, forgetting the emotions that have slowly been tacking themselves onto you like the crumpled tape on the floor.
You dip your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his girth. Rafe inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. You drag your hand to his tip, feeling the warm precum and spreading it with your thumb.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“You like that?” you whisper with a smile. It’s exciting talking like this. You were always quiet when hooking up with a guy, but Rafe has pushed you completely out of your shell.
“Get on my bed,” he says gruffly, pressing your hips back. You lie down, watching his cock spring out of his boxers when he tugs them off.
Rafe almost asks to skip the condom, but it feels too intimate. Too serious. And he’s sure you’d say no.
You pull your panties off as he rolls on the latex and gets on his knees, sinking onto the mattress, hands gripping your ankles. He shifts and rests your ankles on his broad shoulders, his hands skimming down your legs.
He drags a thumb over your wet clit, gazing down at you with yearning as he spreads your slick arousal over you. You moan at the sensation, realizing just how sensitive you are from how long it’s been and how much you missed him.
“You’re fucking soaked,” Rafe rasps. “Who got you like this, baby?”
“You did,” you reply. The words coming out of your mouth are so fucking soothing. He can’t think about anyone else doing this to you. Only him.
Rafe pulls his hand off of you to grip your thigh and holds his cock at its base with his other hand, tapping it over your middle. You look at him, eyes meeting in an exquisite, mutual longing.
“Say please,” he teases.
“You say please,” you reply, smirking. Rafe shakes his head in disbelief and awe and desire, his hair falling over his forehead.
He can’t wait. He guides himself into you, slipping in so easily, feeling just how drenched and tight and warm you are. He groans as you take him in with a deep breath, tilting to feel the curve of his cock.
“That’s so fucking nice,” he whispers, watching himself push into you. “Your pussy is so fucking nice.”
His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls back and pushes in again. You throw your head back as he shoves himself into you, filling you completely, the pressure hard and incredible.
Rafe’s thumb is on your clit again, rubbing in circles as he thrusts, making you tremble. Your mouth is agape, your hands above your head as he pleasures you.
It’s such a phenomenal view to him. Pleasure written on your face, your tits bouncing, your chest heaving, your body jolting.
You feel your stomach tighten, the rising sensation making you moan. Rafe starts to go harder, rubbing faster, a smile curling on his lips as he watches you.
“I
” you breathe. “Fuck, I
”
“Can’t talk?” he rasps, amused. You bite your bottom lip and moan a giggle, willing yourself to look at him before he has to tell you to.
His gaze is piercing into you as you feel yourself dissolve into ecstasy, your body going numb before it heats with the most amazing feeling you’ve ever had.
Rafe feels you clenching around his cock and he leans over to get as deep into you as possible, your legs bending as his shoulders push you forward.
After you come down from your orgasm, he places his hand on your cheek, dipping his thumb into your mouth.
You stare at him as he drives into you and you wrap your lips around his thumb, tasting yourself. Rafe might just go crazy. You take him so much better than he’s ever had before.
He tightens and you watch the euphoria wash over his face, his brows furrowing and his lips parting. You love that you can do this to him, that a man so commanding and dominant and brash crumbles like this when he’s inside you.
He cums in hard pulses, hips bucking with every jerk, seeing stars. When he slowly pulls out, you close your eyes, sighing in pleasure.
Your palms rest over your eyes, feeling high off the feeling as you feel him shift off the mattress. When you catch your breath, you open your eyes to see Rafe offering you a towel.
“You have fun?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to do the whole aftercare thing, but because it’s not genuine, you’d rather not play along.
It’s clear he wants you to leave with the way he’s holding out the towel, surely wishing you’d cover up and go. You’re not surprised. You sit up, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body.
“C-minus,” you say.
“What?”
“Kidding,” you laugh. You stand to leave and decide to let him deal with the mess of caution tape on his floor, desperate to be alone so you can pull yourself together.
You go so suddenly that Rafe watches his door shut with confusion. He thought you’d wipe yourself down with the towel he gave you, maybe sit a while with him.
He oddly wanted you to stay a little bit. He liked joking around with you earlier tonight. It was fun.
But you were so eager to go. Probably because Rafe is the kind of guy you fuck and forget, and Blake is the kind of guy you make love to and stick around for.
He knows that he’s in a competition he’ll eventually lose because he can’t offer you a relationship. You said yourself he’d be the worst boyfriend ever the night he told you not to cuddle him.
But he’ll happily take these nights with you for as long as possible. And he’ll keep fighting for as many as he can.
When you make it to your dorm, you sit on your bed, breathless. Just when you think the sex can’t get any better with Rafe, it does.
He almost disappointed you with his lack of emotion afterwards, but you’re glad you didn’t give him the power to. He’ll always let you down in that department. As long as you keep any feelings for him at bay, you know you’ll be fine.
After you feel a bit calmer, you check your phone to see five texts.
Liv: didn’t get a chance to tell you but rafe is down BAD for you
Liv: when i told him you were upstairs with blake he looked like he was about to kill someone
Liv: hope you have fun lol :)
Liv: i sure am
 i made out with sam after you left
 oops
Then you see a block of text in the next notification.
Blake: Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.
(part eight)
author’s note: thank you anon for this iconic idea!!
if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘
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sakasinterlude · 9 months ago
Text
your touch burns like fire, i love it | carlos sainz x fem!reader
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a woman, a man, a frisky DM, and a hotel room.
nsfw 18+, no minors pls
a/n: my first piece of writing in a long time, so let me know what you think. its long. 5.1K words so enjoy!
When you decide to send a frisky DM, you are more mad than anything else, wanting to get back and show your ex, that you too can fuck whoever you want.
You lean against the wall of the elevator and place your head back on the cold steel of the wall. Its not exactly anxiety that you feel, rather than a sense of giddiness, or maybe your just horny.
The loud ding of the lift takes you out of your thoughts as your greeted by the elaborate designed carpet and shining chandelier. You were very familiar with the five-star hotel, at least from the outside, it’s on your daily commute to work but never did you have an opportunity to step inside, until now. This whole day came about after an a rather eventful month or so.
Your long-time boyfriend Brian was a sweet, caring, and thoughtful partner. You met at when you attended your roommate/best friends Christmas office party with her. Instead of being swept up in the boring accounting office chat, you were blushing in the corner at the sweet words of the handsome man in the navy suit. Things transpired quickly between the two of you as a few weeks into the New Year you were already official. There were never any glaring red flags, and you were content with the pace and terms of your relationship, often spending evenings in his swanky high-rise loft apartment. Some may say complacent, but you call it comfortable and reliable, which is more than you could say for any of the past relationships you had been in.
Things started to go left when he claimed to be swamped at work. For a week, okay understandable you thought, but for over a month, and including weekends? Something suspicious surely. With some whispers from your loyal friend and roommate, you learned of the name Laura, a bubbly blonde 21-year-old who was just hired to work at the front desk. On her first day she spilled coffee over some important papers and sweet Brian had been kind enough to show her how to use the photocopier and made googly eyes at her for the rest of the day. “He was definitely smitten!” according to office chat your roommate picked up on. On nights where you would sit in his apartment, alone, your mind couldn’t help but wonder to Laura, knocking on his office door asking Brian if he needed anything before she left for the night. You imagined your boyfriend’s eyes wondering up the secretary’s legs, finding a tight pencil skirt hugging her hips. His cheeks would blush at the scene, the two all alone in this big office, the dark sky outside the window hiding their secret. You tried your best to shake these thoughts out of you head, but it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t contain yourself. One Sunday morning, when Brian wasn’t “working” your eyes caught something on his phone and the opportunity to bring up these lingering feelings came up.
“You got text.” You call out to Brian, who was in the kitchen making the pair of you breakfast. Sweet Brian.
“What does it say?” He replied, he doesn’t even turn his attention from the stove, he must trust you.
“From the Laura, should I reply?” Passwords were shared between the two of you, so replying on behalf of the other was normal.
You see Brian’s head whip around, before he abandons the hot pan, walking quickly to retrieve his phone. “Nope, I got it sweetheart.” He is overcompensating with his smile and places a kiss on your forehead before grabbing his phone and going back to the stove. He must think you miss how red his face got, or the initial wide-eyed look he gave when you said her name.
Long story short, after breakfast a rare fight between the two of you ensued, where you called out his shady behaviour and questioned him about Laura.
“Are you crazy? I would never cheat on you!” he throws his hands in the air. After many mean names and yelling back and forth, it was Brian who suggests a break, claiming the stress from working and the lack of quality time spent was clearly straining the relationship. You don’t even verbally agree, too mad to even speak, just grabbing your bag and coat from the corridor before leaving his apartment.
You don’t return until a few weeks later, when you decide to show up unannounced to make amends. But of course, who was it who held the door open for you when you walk into his building early in the morning? A young blonde, who looked like she had herself a night, sporting the same messy post sex hair and neck hickeys you once did. She shot you a small smile before complimenting your coat, of course Laura is sweet too. You don’t even make it inside, that was all the evidence you needed to know that Brian and this relationship was not worth saving.
You spent the week crying in bed, thinking of the wasted years you spent on this stupid relationship. Your roommate encourages you to get out in the world again, don’t let Brian win. That plus a bottle of wine, led you to DM Carlos Sainz on Instagram. When you decide to send the frisky message, you are more mad than anything else, wanting to get back at Brian and show him you too can fuck whoever you want. With that being said, it helped that that someone was insanely good looking. To say you were shocked to get a reply the next day was an understatement, but after a few messages back and forth, you received a time and hotel room number to meet Carlos that Saturday.
--
You readjust your dress straps as you count the door numbers around you. What exactly does one wear to a one-night stand, especially with a famous person? You settle for a mid-thigh length sun dress and sandals, causal enough you thought. 708 reads the door, but you can’t bring yourself to raise your hand to knock. Sure, you had slept with people other than Brian but never like this. Meeting online, random hotel room, not even a date before where you both play coy to the acts that will take place later that night. The sound of the elevator down the hall brings you back and before you can second guess, your fists meet the door, and you wait.
Carlos Sainz opens the door quickly; you hope he wasn’t watching you standing there through the peephole. He is even better looking in real life than on Instagram, if that’s even possible. Beautiful tan skin, slight beard, strong manly jawline and the most effortless soft looking hair. Its wet, he must have just showered, which explains why he has no shirt on. Oh my god. You meet his eyes as he has caught you staring.
“Hi.” He says it softly, giving a warm smile at the end. You give him the same smile back, not trusting your voice, accepting his outstretched hand inside the hotel room.
-
You stare out the window, looking down below, everything looks so small from here. Carlos left you in the bedroom, claiming he had to take a phone call in the living room. You didn’t even know hotels rooms came with multiple sections and rooms inside. The anticipation is killing you as now as it is definitely horniness you feel rather than anxiety.
You feel a gentle hand meet your waist; you turn to face Carlos.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He says sheepishly. “It was a work call.”
“No problem.” You both gaze into each other’s eyes, his hand is still on your waist. “You know,” He takes a step forward, “You’re even prettier in real life.”
You can’t help but blush, turning your head away from his gaze. His fresh cologne scent is all around you now, leaving you flustered.
“I mean it, cariño.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and takes another step closer, your only inches apart now. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes, they are so brown, and so warm, like chocolate or the perfect cup of coffee with cream or lik-
Before you can even comprehend your kissing him, and he’s kissing you. Those big firm hands of his run from your face, down to your shoulder pulling you flush on his chest. Your body feels on fire in the best possible way, his presence is everywhere now. His two hands go from your shoulders then neck, then under your jaw, sitting right under your ears, cradling your face, leaning down to kiss you. His lips are so soft but firm in the way they dominate and take control kissing you.
“On the bed,” A firm slap on your ass jolts you up, “Now.” Carlos turns to watch you waltz towards the large king-sized bed in the middle of the room. You crawl into the center of the bed, before turning and facing him with a sweet smile, sitting on the bed. You wonder where all this confidence came from.
Carlos saunters over to you, with an expression you couldn’t really read, his eyes a slightly darker shade of brown. He reaches the foot of the bed and just stares at you, stares. It doesn’t intimidate you, in fact it fires you up, yearning for his touch again. Like he read your mind, he grabs your right ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You let out a squeal, taken aback from his movement. Now on your back, with his hand still on your foot, he crawled up your body, meeting eyes once again.
His lips ghost over yours, waiting, coming closer, then pulling away slightly. He takes his pointer finger from your ankle, and slowly runs it up your leg, leaving goosebumps in its path. Everything on your body is tingling and buzzing at every little movement he makes.
His fingers slide right up your leg, under your dress, stopping at your underwear. Still holding that intense eye contact, Carlos pulls your thong right down. Your jaw is slack at the action, which makes Carlos smirk, knowing he has you now.
Then the assault on your thighs begins, as Carlos leaves kisses and little nips on both outspread legs, ignoring where you want him the most. The feeling makes your back arch and your breathing hitch with anticipation. His teasing continues for some time, as your hands find his locks, enjoying the soft fluffy texture. You almost don’t notice the halt in movement, as Carlos’ eyes bore into your from between your legs. Slowly he moves closer, and closer to your center. Holding that same eye contact, he licks one long stripe up your pussy. You hiss at the sensation. Again, he repeats his movements, keeping the same slow pace, making you itch for more.
“Carlos,” You whine out softly, turning your head into the comforter, not being able to handle the scene below. The wait comes to an end as Carlos places a kiss right on your clit, before sucking the sensitive bud right between his two lips creating sucking sound in the progress.
“Fuck!” You yelp louder than intended but you couldn’t help it. The sounds of his moans, your moans, the sucking, and the licking were combining to send your mind into overdrive, no thoughts at all. Carlos takes your body language positively, starting to become very enthusiastic below, spreading your legs even wider and picking up the pace. The better it feels, the more you moan, the more it encourages Carlos. The cycle is vicious.
Your hands tightly grip the comforter beneath you, needing somewhere to release your distress, somewhere to allow you to keep holding on to this moment.
“Yes, Carlos! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” The chant and shortness of breath brings Carlos to create moans of his own, leaving a satisfying mumming vibration to your clit.
“Such a pretty pussy,” He pulls back to swipe the pads of his fingers roughly back and forth on your clit, creating a slew of wetness everywhere. The sounds are downright nasty, as Carlos returns to sucking on your clit.
“Please! Please let me come!” You cry out, the world around you slipping away, as all you can think of is the feeling between your legs. Your cries bring a cocky smirk to his face, loving seeing you squirm, twist, and yelp out in ecstasy.
“How bad do you want it, hm?” Carlos asks, taking two long and thick fingers right into your pussy, slipping in easily. With the first thrust, your shocked at how deep inside you he goes. It’s only two fingers but you feel stuffed. Your mouth is left a gape, eyes rolled back, with the faintest whine escaping your mouth. The feeling is too much to describe so good, but so bad and you didn’t want it to stop.
“Fuck! Yes, hm, I want it so bad, please let me-“ His fingers curling literally leave you speechless as you can’t even continue your desperate pleas. Finally, the feeling hits you so hard your body stiffens in delight. Carlos takes his slender fingers and beings pumping in and out of you. There is no slow build up, just constant penetration as he shows no mercy on you.
You yelp out in pleasure as you cum all over Carlos’ fingers and drip on to the comforter below. He is relentless though, as he continues pumping in and out of you, enjoying watching your toes curl in pleasure.
 Your orgasm runs through your whole body, leaving you tingling. Considering the fact that it had been a while, coupled with the beautiful man whose mouth is still attached to your clit, you were more than pleased. All that was left was the quiet hums as you came down from your high, and the rough hands of Carlos running down the inside of your legs and playing with your fucked out pussy.
“Hey, enough!” You playfully scold, turning to the side, bringing your legs together. The overstimulation is killing you in the best way possible.
“You look good like this, cariño.” He is kneeling in between your legs, staring down at your twisted naked body and the wet crumbled sheets. Fuck, your beautiful he thought. “Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me.” He says with a light tap on your thigh.
You do as he says, slowly but surely, flipping over to a doggy position facing the headboard. A sharp slap to your ass jolts you up, surely leaving a red imprint, but the string leaves an oddly pleasant feeling making you hum in pleasure. Carlos could touch you anywhere tonight and you would probably enjoy it. 
“Again.” You say, confidence once again taking over making you bold enough to call the shots. He complies, taking his large palm and beating it against your ass, this time harder. You gasp in pleasure.
“So, she likes to get spanked, huh?” Carlos asks, rubbing the sore red mark already forming. You hum in agreeance, sticking you ass out, rubbing ever so slightly on his bare thighs. You hadn’t even noticed him discarding his clothes.
“But does she like this?” The question makes you ponder for a second, then you feel it. The weight gives it away, and then the feeling of something long and big dropped between your ass cheeks. You had suspicions that Carlos would be a well-endowed man and you were correct. You turn your head to get a good look at his cock. Neatly trimmed, good length, and definitely girthy, you were in for it.
“Fucking hell Carlos.”
He looks down at you with a smirk, taking his eyes away from his nimble fingers rolling on a condom. He leans down over your shoulder, gets right in your face, and places a kiss on your lips. You can still taste yourself on his tongue. Before you can really get into it, he pulls away.
“I’m going to fucking ruin you, just like you asked me to, cariño.” He says sexily, looking right into your eyes, alluding to the direct message that began this all. You just hope you could handle it all.
-
Turns out you could handle it all. Well, just barely technically speaking. Carlos relentlessly pounded into you, causing your body to bounce with force into the mattress. There was a pillow placed just under your hips, slightly elevating your body, giving the perfect angle for Carlos. The arch in your back stayed, but your face? Buried into the white comforter below, surely leaving makeup residue from the force but also the tears that fall one by one from your tightly shut eyes.
Was it rough, was it nasty? Yes, and you fucking loved the feeling, relishing in the violent nature of Carlos’ thrusts. He used his big hands to tightly wrap around your waist, using you as leverage for his thrusts. He loved the sight of his large hands being almost dwarfed by the size of your ass, as he watched his cock enter in and out of you. Together your arousal made for great lube as Carlos moved with ease through your pussy.
The sounds are what really got you though. With doggy style came the infamous sound of skin on skin colliding. It was so rough, and loud, you don’t even feel sympathy for the neighbors next door for the constant sound of the rocking headboard. Lastly, the dirty talk. Carlos exsuded masculinity in every sense including his voice. The deep tone, the vulgar language all enough to make your feet curl.
“Fuck bella! What a pretty pussy.”
“You take me so well, I can feel you squeezing me!”
“Louder baby! I want to hear you beg for it.”
You could feel the beginnings of your orgasm start to creep up on you. The knot in your stomach, the tingling sensation all over, it leaves your jaw slack as you beg the man above you to finish the job.
“Please Carlos! It’s so fucking good.” You draw out in pleasure. “I want to come please!”
“Make yourself come on my cock, princesa.” With that his thrust halted, leaving you shocked for a moment. “Come on, you know what to do.” A light tap on your hips signaled you back against his cock. You repeated the movement, using your hands to guide your ass back onto his waiting cock. The feeling is just as good as before, maybe even better as you could control the pace, opting to go quickly in, then slowing down the exit. This allows you to really feel his length and girth slipping in and out of you sinfully.
“Good fucking girl, just like that. Keep going.” His voice is lighter now, just above a whisper, relishing in the pleasure below him.
You take his words as encouragement, squeezing yourself around his cock, drawing out moans from the both of you. It’s as if you could feel all the veins and lines on his member the way you were so tightly stuffed. His slight curve being the final nail in the metaphorical coffin that sent you over the edge, meeting perfectly with your g-spot.
“Fuccckkk!”
You call out in pleasure, followed by screams you could barely contain, even if you wanted. The orgasm hits you hard, leaving you tingling all over. You fell flat onto the mattress, unable to hold up your own weight anymore. That didn’t stop Carlos from placing his hands by either side of your head, lining himself back up with your entrance and plowing into you at a ridiculous pace. How he found the energy, you had no idea.
Carlos let out his own obscene sounds, closer to grunts, almost an animalistic moan, being encouraged by the way your ass bounced in response. It would surely leave a mark tomorrow. He spilled the last bits of his cum into you, finishing with one big thrust before laying half of his body weight on you.
It was now that you realized the eery quietness of the bedroom, only the sound of the AC blowing and the heavy breathing of the two of you filling the space. Both you and Carlos’ chest rise and fall in unison.
“Fuck.” He says breathlessly after a few moments. He runs his large hands over your face from behind you, brushing your hair out of the way before kissing your temple, cheek, then shoulder resting his head on your spine before removing himself from you. You both hiss at the sensation. Carlos flops onto his back right beside you, hands resting on his stomach with his eyes closed, attempting to catch his breath.
“You are something else, cariño.” He mumbles, turning his head slightly to peak one eye at you with a smirk.
You gave him a grin of satisfaction back before pushing yourself on your knees crawling to the edge of the bed, then kneeling on the floor.
“You have seen anything yet.” You say sultrily, tucking your hair behind you ears staring right at your prize between his legs. This gets Carlos’ attention, as he sits up slightly look at your doe eyes peering back at him.
“Fuck me.” Carlos was in for it.
-
So, there you were, perched on your knees, staring up at the beautiful man, slowly stroking him, up and down with the lightest touches, twisting your wrists. It was a sight for sore eyes, as Carlos leaned back on the bed slightly, eyes fixated back at you. He kept his hands resting on the mattress.
“Do you know how fucking pretty you are, bella?” He asks licking his lips and staring back down at you with a slack jaw.
You smiled in reply, humming around the head of his cock, as you brought it close to your mouth. You begin to tease him with your movements, tapping his tip around your mouth, on your cheek, never bring in inside though. You could tell this was rattling Carlos, as his ankles fidgeted and bounced by your thighs, as he tried to put his focus anywhere else in anticipation.
“C’mon princessa, you’re killing me.” He whines up above you. The pinched brow and wanting brown eyes make Carlos look so fucking sexy, as he is literally begging you to suck his cock.
“How bad do you want it though, hm?” You ask in a mocking tone, trying to supress a giggle from escaping. He tosses his head back in remembrance of those same words he uttered to your earlier. “Karma,” he whispers under his breath.
“You know how bad I want it. You can see how bad I want it.” He crocks out, alluding to the red, erect, hard cock of his being the kitten licked by you. Little drips of precum escape out from his tip, it pulls a groan out of the two of you. Both sets of eyes are locked in on the milky white bead of cum running down the tip. You lick it up before it reaches halfway down. Carlos is staring back at you in awe, with those pleading eyes, begging you to do something, anything really. You decide to put in him out of his misery and let out a thick string of saliva before lowering your mouth on his cock.
“Fuck!” He moans out loud. The sudden movements makes him sit up from his previous lounged position. You pick a steady pace, moving up and down fast, knowing Carlos had been teased enough. You suck up and down, as it doesn’t take much for him to reach the back of your throat. It causes you to slightly gag, but you continue. Dirty noises of wetness, gagging, and slurping make you rub your thighs together below. The tempo caused your hair to flow down towards your face. Carlos used his big hands to wipe your vision clear, holding your hair at the back of your head.
“There you go, just like that baby, fuck!” He draws out. The constant hums, whines, and moans from Carlos do wonders for your confidence as you wonder when you were ever nervous. You can tell he is really enjoying it based on the veins straining his face and arms.
“You taste so fucking good.” You hum, removing him from your mouth, using one hand to massage his balls. You sit back on your heels admiring the beautiful man in front of you. You give him a sinful smile.
Carlos looks spent above you, hair all tussled, sweat slicked all across his body, chest huffing up and down. He takes his cock into his hand rubbing the tip across your swollen lips, tapping it a couple times on your waiting tongue.
“C’mon baby, finish me off.” He grunts out.
And you do just that.
You take a deep breath before taking his whole cock down the back of your throat in one go. An animalistic groan comes from Carlos, but you keep going. You hollow your cheeks around him, sucking with some force up and down. Your force yourself to look up, making eye contact with Carlos as you can tell he is very close now. Removing your lips from his length, you take him into your palm, stroking him up and down.
“Fuck, princesa!” He cussing out loudly, but neither of you really cared.
“I want you to finish on my face.” You say calmly, holding eye with Carlos, above you.
“What?” He whimpers out, face softening. There is no way he heard you correctly.
“You heard me. Cum all over my face, baby.” Your eyes bore into his, becoming wide and pleading for the unimaginable. And who was Carlos to deny you.
He lets out a string of expletives as your wrist work quickly on his shaft, up and down, adding spit for good measure. At this point, Carlos’ whole body is stiff and strained, as he approaches his climax. He forcefully uses one hand to grip the back of your head, the other to take over stroking his cock. You close your eyes and purse your lips together waiting.
“Oh my god-shi-fuckkkk!”
You feel the warm liquid, spilling all along your forehead and down to your lips. It’s a heavy load, as Carlos uses his strong hands to direct your head around, making sure not to miss a spot. He groans out as he works on his masterpiece on your face, squeezing at his cock. You stick your tongue out for effect, tasting his sweet cum. Finally, the act ends, as your eyes are still close and Carlos pants above you.
As much as you want to soak in the moment, the thought comes back in your head, reminding you. You pat on the ground around you feeling for your phone that you slipped in preparation for this moment. Feeling the cold case on your left side, you flip it over, before handing it to Carlos on his lap.
“Take a photo of me.”
There is a moment of silence, as Carlos is actually shocked.
“God, who knew you were such a little slut, huh?” He replies with a chuckle, before taking your phone and pressing the camera icon on the bottom right. You feel him shuffle around for a moment, before the bright flash of your phone shines on your face. Carlos snaps several photos, getting different angles, as you stick your tongue out letting some cum drip down, even peaking one eye open. He tries to move quickly, before placing your phone back on the bed, and jogging to the bathroom. Your still on your knees waiting for him when he come back with a warm towel that he runs along your face and hair.
“Okay, I think I got it all.” He mumbles quickly, pushing some damp baby hairs behind your ear. You finally lock eyes, and you give him a sweet smile before leaning up to kiss him, which he gladly accepts. He cradles your jaw and tongue kisses you so hard you feel dizzy.
“Thank you.” You say sincerely looking at him in the eyes, after pulling away. You rub his hand that rests on his thigh.
This brings a laugh and confused frown to the Spaniards face. “For what? I should be the one thanking you.”
“I’m thanking you for ruining me.” You say seductively. You watch as his eyes go wide, before returning his signature smirk at you.
Carlos almost does not recognize you now, as he would have never accepted this confident, strong, sexy behaviour from the shy woman who walked through his hotel door a few hours ago.
--
“So, what exactly are you gonna do with those photos huh?” The pair of you are now cuddle up in the large king size bed, your leg draped over his middle, naked bodies intertwined. “Saving them in a spank bank for later?” Carlos jokes, he squeezes your shoulder in a playful manner.
In the events after, you both headed for the lavish bathroom, adorned with the largest shower you have ever seen. There are all kinds of buttons and settings, even a touch screen to activate the steam. But you and Carlos stayed busy, going one more round in the shower for good measure. He had you pinned against the wall with your leg wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you.
The mood is much lighter now, as you lay together, the TV playing a random sitcom as you make light conversation.
“No, actually.” You start, a light blush starts to creep up your face. “My ex-boyfriend invited me over tonight at 8, his place.” You use this time to glance at clock above the TV, you still have a couple hours to spare.
“He is cooking me dinner, my favourite. He thinks we’re getting back together.” You say with a little chuckle. Carlos looks amused, as he tries to fight back a smirk.
“Little does he know I have a surprise of my own.” You reach for your phone that’s tossed somewhere beside you. Taping the screen your phone comes alive displaying the image taken just moments ago as your new lockscreen. A break of laughter causes Carlos to almost sit up, as his hand flies to his jaw in shock.
“Oh my god.” That’s all he can say really.
It was difficult to pick just one of the sexy pictures Carlos had taken. But you settle for one in which your face is covered in cum, tongue hanging out catching the residue. If you look closely, you can spot your right hand stuck in between your thighs.
“He was a terrible boyfriend, but makes great steak unfortunately.”
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letsquestjess · 7 months ago
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Buy Me a Caf and We'll See (Wolffe x GN!Reader)
Summary: After a visit to a late night caf shop, feelings develop between you and Wolffe.
Word count: 2.4K
Warnings: Edit: Mentions of blood and injury.
-- -- -- -- --
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In an effort to suppress the trapped yawn, you stretched your arms and let out a slow, lingering breath. The letters on your datapad started to blur, and you blinked a few times to regain some clarity. Had it not been for the gaggles of noisy, intoxicated citizens stumbling past the window, it would have been difficult to determine the time. One glimpse at the chronometer in the corner of the screen confirmed it was late. Frustratingly so. 
On any other night, you would have been tucked up in bed, dozing and dreaming, but tonight, you were in an all-hours cafe, surrounded by the hum of hushed conversations and the clinking of ceramic mugs, as you tackled the longest requisitions request you had ever seen. Despite General Plo’s apology for sending over such an extensive list, it did little to alleviate the growing fatigue. 
Your only saving grace was Wolffe’s presence across from you, his overworked focus fixed on the text on his datapad as he diligently documented the aftermath of the failed mission the 104th had returned from that morning. Every so often, his gaze shifted to the concrete walls and rustic photo frames exhibiting a tempting display of pastries and cake slices. One brown eye and one cybernetic swept the outdated decorations and upside down jars housing dusty bulbs. His brow creased, and he redirected his attention to you. 
If it hadn’t been for the urgent nature of the recent requisitions, he would have insisted you go home and rest. You tried to appear upbeat, but he could tell you were flagging. Your lashes fluttered at a sluggish pace, and your posture slumped. 
“I didn’t even know this place was here,” he confessed, stimulating your interest. 
Observing the tranquil cafe, you set your datapad aside for a brief respite from the neon glare. “I only found it by chance,” you replied. “I try to come here when I have some free time.”
Wolffe remained unconvinced. Although he usually steered clear of civilian areas, the rich flavours of the caf and the enticing aromas tempted him to make an exception. And there was an encouraging hush that he was thankful for as he immersed himself in the mundane task of completing his report. 
“Do we have a plan for the blaster replacement parts?” you asked after a gulp of your warm beverage. “I know Comet said that you found some, but should we keep the order pending, or would you rather I cancel it?”
“Might be best to have some spares on hand,” Wolffe suggested. “Considering what occurred yesterday
”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence; the culpability etched on his face silently completed it for him and you wished there was something you could do or say to provide some solace. “None of that was your fault, Wolffe,” you told him adamantly. “You exceeded your duty and despite an unsuccessful mission, you safely extracted all your men.”
Though he avoided contact, his brown eye twitched and his jaw clenched as your keen words sunk in.
As the earlier meeting had unfolded, your heart ached to witness the usually composed commander struggle as he reported one disaster after another. Despite the odds stacked against them, they had forged ahead and gave it their all. After learning about the events of their mission, General Plo’s only concern was their safe return, but you could see how it had troubled Wolffe. It was tough to watch him take responsibility for something beyond his control.  
You reached across the table and gently grasped his gloved hands with your bare ones. Although the motion surprised him, he didn’t recoil, lowering the datapad to give you his undivided attention. His eyes widened slightly as they wandered over your features, taking in every facet, and contour, and the subtle details he had previously overlooked. 
An uncomfortable silence drifted between the two of you, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find the words you had wanted to say just moments ago. In the end, you retreated from him, sheepish and defeated. 
Heat rising in his cheeks and not from the steaming caf, Wolffe took a slow sip of his drink. “I, uh
 appreciate your faith in me,” he said, fidgeting with his datapad to distract from the urge to hold your hands again. 
“As a requisitions officer, I get you what you need,” you replied with a light-hearted undertone, “and that includes a little boost when you’re in a tough spot.” 
Words failed to capture the full extent of Wolffe’s appreciation, a sentiment he preferred to keep unspoken in that particular moment. Struggling to block out the feeling of your comforting touch, he scraped his nails against the side of his datapad and attempted to regain his focus. 
* * *
Cars rushed by the lofty window in a haste, engines screeching and thrusters thundering as though they were trying to race the rising sun to the horizon. At that early hour of morning, you couldn’t imagine why. The lanes were mostly empty, allowing vehicles to cruise at a leisurely speed without the fear of being late. 
But Coruscant never slowed. The capital of the galaxy hustled and hurried, bustled and buzzed, a constant hive of action. If you were being honest with yourself, you preferred the fast pace onboard the Venators. At least that rush was organised and structured. The incessant noise and commotion outside only served to annoy you, and you decidedly crossed your office and tightened the blinds to deter most of the vehicular surge while still letting in the climbing morning light. 
You had barely got comfortable in your seat when a firm knock jolted you from your work. Disregarding the need to identify the visitor, you pressed the button on your desk to unlatch the door. 
To your surprise, Wolffe walked in, helmet braced under his arm and a cardboard caf carrier in his grasp. “Apologies for disturbing you. I just came to drop this off.” He placed a cup down by your paperwork and you immediately identified the red and white logo. “I was walking by that cafe and picked up pastries for the boys and General Plo, so I thought I’d get something for you too.”
The thoughtful gift caught you off guard, but you managed to muster an affectionate smile. “Thank you, commander,” you said, mindful of keeping up the professional decorum while at work and reminding yourself to address him by his military rank. Not that anybody was around to hear you, but you were well aware of how important protocol was to Wolffe. “You have no idea how much I need this right now.” 
“Still got a lot to do?” he asked. 
“I wouldn’t if stuff stopped piling up, but we are in a war,” you shrugged, taking a mouthful of caf and savouring the warmth. “It would be strange if there wasn’t a mountain of tasks demanding attention.”
“You can say that again,” Wolffe said, a wry smile forming. “If the war ended tomorrow, I don’t know what I’d do next. I doubt any of my brothers would, either.”
Nursing the heated paper cup, the commander’s comments resonated deeply within you. You hadn’t given it much thought before, but you acknowledged the point. Prior to the outbreak of conflict, you had a life, and you hoped to have one after it, but for Wolffe and his brothers, war was all they knew. Bred for the battlefield. Raised to fight. Thrown straight into the hungry jaws of the beast. 
Guilt welled in your stomach as you observed him, so brave and valiant, putting everything on the line with no control over the situation. And there were millions of others like him, trapped in the Republic system. “When the war ends, I am sure there will be a place for you and your brothers,” you assured him. “The galaxy always needs defenders, and there are plenty of worlds willing to offer a fresh start for anyone looking to leave the army.”
Wolffe didn’t have the heart to remind you he was considered property of the Republic, a mere cog destined to live a life dictated by duty. Instead, he lowered his head and cradled the helmet wedged between his arm and his hip. 
You observed the way he paused, much like he had been doing for the past few weeks since that morning in the cafe. Every time you chatted, he retained a reserved demeanour. Although he had never been one for physical contact, he made a deliberate effort to maintain a distance from you and you wondered if you had done something wrong. 
For a moment, he lifted as though to speak, but he quickly deflated and whatever he had in mind remained unspoken. “I’ll catch up with you later at the meeting,” he said as he headed for the door. 
“Can’t exactly miss it,” you replied. “Thanks for the caf.” 
He offered you a quick nod before scooting out into the corridor, the latch clicking shut again and the room falling silent. 
You waited for a couple of extra seconds before sinking into your swivel chair. Wolffe seemed preoccupied, and it worried you. He had a knack for brushing things off, but this particular issue chipped away at him. 
The quickly escalating desires that had been building up within you were certainly not easing the situation either. He had always treated you with respect and kindness, never hesitating to include you in the squad activities and ensuring you felt valued. You worked well together, functioning as a united unit, but lately he had been attempting to reach out only to retreat at the last moment. 
Determined not to get overwhelmed by your own emotions when you had duties to attend to, you attributed his distant behaviour to the stress of his job and shuffled your chair back to the desk. That paperwork and all those requests wouldn’t resolve themselves, and you were thankful for the distraction. 
* * *
You sprinted at full speed down the corridors of the cruising Venator, the assault of adrenaline drowning out all other sounds as you fought to maintain your balance around an abrupt turn. An irregular pant pulled at your breaths, but you refused to stop. As soon as you had received the message, you were out of your seat and bolting through the ship, blundering past clones and droids with only one goal in mind: reach him. 
Bursting into the medical bay waiting room, you startled the medic on duty. After identifying the wolf sigil on your sleeve, he motioned to the door behind him. “He’s still having some scans done, but you can go in,” he said. “Wouldn’t stop muttering your name when he arrived.”
You locked eyes with the clone medic as though he was about to break into laughter and reveal a ruse, but he remained politely hushed. The news of Wolffe’s injury and stable condition consumed your thoughts, granting no chance for any other concerns. To hear he had been asking for you, it became clear why Sinker had been dispatched so urgently after the commander’s arrival. He wanted you by his side. 
Smoothing your uniform and wiping the perspiration off your brow, you entered the medical room, the sterile scent of bacta hitting your nostrils. The lights were dimmed, creating a soft glow around the equipment screens that seemed to form a halo until your eyes adjusted. At the end of the singular cot, a medi-bot hovered, emitting a wedge of blue light. 
The commander straightened up and met your worried gaze. His right side was covered with a large bandage, secured over his black under suit, and red-stained gauze spilled over the rim of a bowl on the tool tray. 
The droid completed the scans and exited, appearing content with the results. 
“You know you’re supposed to run away from the explosions?” you said in relieved jest as you perched on the narrow mattress. 
“I was caught on the edge of the blast,” Wolffe replied. “A bit of shrapnel grazed me. Nothing major.”
“Really?” you challenged, elongating the word and fidgeting in anticipation of your next words. “Because your brothers told me you were in and out of consciousness. And according to the medic, when you arrived, you were whispering my name. Kind of explains why Sinker came to fetch me so quickly.”
Wolffe’s eyes widened, his deep hazel eye dilating and the cybernetics in his other rotating. If you hadn’t spent so much time with him, you wouldn’t have noticed the subtle change, but you learned his mannerisms early on in your assignment to his squad. 
An apology or some sort of unneeded statement lingered on his lips and you silenced his doubts with a soft shush. “You don’t have to explain anything. Conserve your energy.” 
“No,” the commander said, leaving no room for negotiation on the matter. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been distant lately and I should have just told you the truth.” He shut his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, he focused on the medical scanner attached to his fingertip. “I was bleeding out and all I saw was you. My brothers were calling out to me to keep me awake, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I might never see you again.” 
A breath snagged, but you forced it down, mouth slightly agape and captivated by the commander’s confession. 
“My squad have talked about the civvies they’ve encountered and formed connections with, but we made a collective decision not to let any relationships form. We’re soldiers. Every time we ship out, we don’t know if we’re going to make it home. But with you, I
 I want to.”
“Wolffe, what are you trying to say?” you asked, hoping for a less evasive response to confirm your interpretation of what he was struggling to communicate. 
Wolffe’s mismatched eyes shone with a love that spanned the entire galaxy, and you understood. You didn’t need him to speak it aloud. 
Reaching over the bedsheets, he gingerly entwined his fingers with yours, a faint smile growing as you tightened your grip. He handled you with the utmost care as he lifted your hand and planted pecks to your palm, sowing his affection into each crease.
While he was distracted, you inched closer and coaxed his attention, leaning in. Your nose whispered past his and you captured his waiting lips. His hands moved fast to draw you nearer with each movement of the kiss. 
“I was wondering if you would go on a date with me,” he said as you parted, sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard him. 
You toyed with a fallen curl by his temple. “That depends,” you teased. 
“On what?” he questioned. 
“Buy me a caf and we’ll see.” 
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gladiatorcunt · 7 months ago
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Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like
r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes
cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so đŸ€«, male masturbation
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Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.
This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)
You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.
Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.
Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)
He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.
A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.
You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.
Your phone chimes again.
Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❀
You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).
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mooooonnnzz · 1 year ago
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Can you write head-cannons for miles on how you think reader would find out/how he would tell them about him being spiderman? I absolutely adore the way you write miles!!
I’m Spiderman! Surprise
? // Miles Morales x reader
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hcs of you finding about miles which ultimately leads to him telling you his “secret”!
✰ gender neutral reader as always!! ïżŒ
✰ the hcs r pretty lengthy 😭 my badd
✰ would u even consider this as hc?? đŸ€š IDK
✰ THANKS FOR THE REQUEST HOPE U ENJOY <33
✰ requests r still open!!
»»————- ★ ————-««
đŸ•·ïž Your suspicions of Miles being Spiderman were merely rooted on baseless assumptions. Him arriving late to certain events, him replying late to your message and other stupid reasons that couldn’t be considered real concrete evidence without any hard core proof. You didn’t care that much to look into it, so you never took time out of your day to figure out who’s under the mask. Though, an incident that somewhat solidified the idea of Miles being Spiderman was when you and him were walking down the crowded streets of New York city. You were chattering to him about something that had taken your interest, not paying attention to what was in front of you, when Miles spidey senses tingled. Wandering his eyes throughout the mass of people, his attention zeroed in on a man who was running away from the police. The man barreled through the crowd and pushed past people with no remorse, running through the busy street with immense speed. He was about to run into you and without even thinking, Miles swiftly stood in front of you and wrapped his arm around you protectively. Miles took advantage of the crowd and without anyone noticing what he’d done, he webbed the guys feet together. He flopped onto the floor and dropped whatever he had clutched to his chest, allowing the police to retrieve the stolen item and arrest the man. You didn’t comment on the situation but the whole thing did make you raise a brow. Miles wasn’t as sneaky as he thought.
đŸ•·ïž His ultra quick reflexes were another thing that made you think he was Spiderman. He was just too quick with catching things. It was scarily impressive. You could be carrying multiple boxes, stumbling your way through the door when you’d trip, the boxes spilling out of your arms. Miles would grab the boxes and with ease and place them on the table. When you call him out for his inhuman reflexes, he shrugs them off and tells a horrible lie. He said that he was just “born with them.” You obviously didn’t believe it but you never pried further.
đŸ•·ïž His sudden strength was another tick in the box. You didn’t know Miles was still trying to get accustomed to his superstrength and there were so many instances where he’d break something without even meaning to. He usually tosses things over to you when he’s a little too lazy to walk over to you, but after a few accidents where he threw it a little harder than he intended it too, he learned to stop doing that for the time being. “Oooh, did I just do that?” He awkwardly chuckled while looking everywhere but at the TV remote that was impaled into the wall. You look at him in disbelief, eyes slowly drifting between Miles and the TV remote. “How
? Why
?” Miles is stuttering, trying to make an excuse and the one he sticks with is “I
work out
?” How believable.
đŸ•·ïžOne time when you were staying over, you found his suit laying out in the open on his bed. When you confronted him about it he threw his suit under his bed and told you he just likes dressing up as Spiderman. “So
you dress up as Spiderman for fun
?” Miles nods his head rapidly. “Do you go to comic-con?” The look of confusion is slapped across his face. “What’s comic-con?”
đŸ•·ïž When Miles was telling you his “deepest darkest secret” he was absolutely shitting his pants. You already pieced the mystery together long before he told you, you just wanted to wait for when Miles was ready to tell you himself. He texted you at the ass-crack of dawn, telling you that he was going to crash into your room for the time being. When he came over, instead of using the front door like a normal person he came in from your window. He crawled in and sheepishly smiled at you, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously. “I have something to tell you
” He whispers. You knew where this was going but you played along for the time being. “Promise this won’t change how you view me as a person.” You promised him by linking your pinky with him. “Promise you’ll still love me the same?” His voice was near cracking with the anxiety that was riling up in him. He looked devastatingly nervous and you can tell that the poor boy is stressed to the bone with the reveal he’s about to do. You assure him that nothing he’s about to say is going to change how you love or see him. Then he slips off his jacket and shows the Spiderman suit he was wearing underneath. “I’m Spiderman.” You look at him for a good minute, debating whether you should tell him you knew all along or act shocked. You chose the former. “I know.” Miles blinks then looks at you in disbelief. “How did you know?!” You had to let out a sigh at that. “You’re not good at hiding it.” Miles was embarrassed to say the least but he was happy that you accepted him either way. “Okay, so now that’s out of the way. Can you take me swinging?! It looks so fun when you do it.” He couldn’t say no and he swung around New York with you clutching his side, joyous shrills and laughter left you and Miles couldn’t be anymore happier.
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i took forever to write this im like writing at a snail pace rn 😭 apologies i’m still writing a few other requests rn. thanks for all the support from my last fic you are all so sweet!! <33
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solivagant242 · 3 months ago
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losing you pt. 1
remus lupin x f!reader
warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, minor swearing (?)
my first fanfic ever!!!
amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you like <3.
pt. 2 is out!
_______________________________________
Amberly was used to Remus’ bad days by now.
At least, that was what she thought. 
The days before the full moon always held an unspoken tension, like a thick, sticky film that hung over their relationship and slowed her every move and action. She’d learned how to handle it- leave food and tea and chocolate on the counter, curl up on the sofa, and read or study to let Remus rest. Trying to talk gave him a headache, and being in any position that wasn’t lying down left him irritable and short of breath. 
She was used to it.
What she wasn’t used to was the feeling of isolation that always accompanied it. Of being left behind, forgotten, all the happiness and expectation she’d been harboring dashed in one moment and left for nothing. 
“Love, we’re leaving at seven, right?” Amberly’s hair swished against one shoulder as she tilted her head to slide in a pearl earring. An excited smile lifted her lips- glossy, for once, as she was finally wearing the makeup Lily had gotten her for Christmas. “I think Pads said he might be there early. We could stop by Flourish and Blotte’s, maybe”-
His gravelly voice sighed from the bedroom. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling so great.”
Concern flooded Amberly as she hurried out of the bathroom, sitting next to him where he was lying on the unmade bed. His eyes were dull and his hair was dry and messy, not soft like usual. “Are you doing okay?” She rested a hand on his forehead.
Remus jerked away, closing his eyes. “Your hands are cold.”
“Oh.” Amberly stared at her hands, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry. Do you not want to go, then?”
“I don’t know,” he replied wearily, turning his face to the wall. “I’ve got such a headache.”
A pit grew in Amberly’s stomach. But it’s our anniversary.
She quickly pushed those words away, guilt flooding her at even the thought. Putting a smile on her face, she leaned forwards to pat Remus’ foot beneath the blankets. “It’s okay. We can stay home, watch a movie? Would you like that? I could order us food. Or make some brownies”-
“Can you just- stop?” came Remus’ voice from under the blanket. His head appeared a second later, hazel eyes blinking at her with a trace of remorse. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s just kinda loud, and I’ve got a monster headache”-
Biting her lip, Amberly nodded, sliding off the bed. Turning back to the bathroom, she pulled out her earrings, tugged her hair up into its usual messy bun. 
It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s just having a bad evening, that’s all

It’s not always like this, of course. When it’s not the full moon, when it’s not that fateful week leading up to it, he’s the sweetest boyfriend known to mankind. He holds her hand, kisses her hair, swings her around and buys her roses that he charms to smell even sweeter from the little corner shop down the road.
But now
almost every week now. It feels like the full moon weeks have been growing longer and longer, taking away her Moony and replacing him with an irritable, cold stranger.
She knows that it’s hard for him. She knows how he pushes people away when he’s hurt or in pain, not wanting to show any emotion, receive any pity.
But why does it always hurt her too?
Now, she sits at the kitchen table and stares at her dark phone.
Remus hasn’t answered her text for the better part of three hours. 
Nothing even serious, just a question: hey, do you wanna go to that bakery down the street? It might be fun, I saw they have the hazelnut cake you like so much.
Even though what she wants to say is I miss you, I feel like you’re slipping away, I’ve had such a long week and I want to spend time with you, I feel so lonely and pathetic waiting for your response

The clock ticks loudly on the wall. 6:27 p.m., two and a half hours past the time he was usually home.
A single tear slides down Amberly’s cheek.
He hasn’t answered. Still.
Something clicks at the door and she jumps, sitting up straight. He’s home. 
Hurriedly wiping at her face, Amberly slides off her chair and goes to the door as it opens, a smile cracking her face for what feels like the first time that day. “Hey. How was work? Bad traffic?”
Remus pulls off his coat and slings it over the counter before answering her. “Fine.” His voice is short, clipped.
Amberly’s chest twinges. “Are you okay?”
He shrugs, kicking off his shoes. “Just tired. Long day, and full moon soon. All that shit.” Glancing around the kitchen, he rummages in one of the cabinets. “Did you get that chamomile tea?”
For a moment Amberly remembers how he used to come home, how she’d throw her arms around him and he’d bury his nose in her hair, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg flooding her as he held her to his chest.
She can’t remember the last time he held her like that.
Biting her lip, she moves towards him and opens the cabinet to pull out the little yellow box of tea, holding it out. “Here. It’s Twinings.”
Remus blinks at her before taking it. “Thanks.” He turns his back and pulls out a mug, filling up the kettle.
Tears fill Amberly’s eyes and she blinks them away before they can overflow in a hot, sticky waterfall over her sweater. “Do you- do you want to sit for a while? I can make us dinner.”
Remus shrugs, a tiny movement beneath his button-down. “If you’d like. I’ve got an awful headache, though, so I’ll probably lie down.”
“Okay.” 
The word wobbles and breaks as it leaves her lips, but she knows he won’t notice. Turning, Amberly makes her way to the little library they made down the hall, just beyond their bedroom. Every single picture, every cushion, every book was one they’d picked out when they had moved in a year ago.
A year ago

Had it really been a year?
It felt like much, much longer. 
“Someone’s going to see us!” protested Amberly, laughing as she tried to push Remus away. The white blanket she’s holding slips to the floor of the little furniture shop. 
He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. “So what? I can’t kiss my girlfriend now?” Reaching out, he picked up the coverlet and draped it over her dark hair. “You look like a bride now. My Mrs. Lupin.”
Amberly smiled up at him, big brown eyes melting into the warmth of his hazel ones

Now, she blinks tears from her eyes, pulling off her glasses to smear them away. 
It’s not his fault. That’s the thing, what she keeps telling herself. She should be grateful he wants to be with her, for trying to manage the beast within him and still have a relationship at all. He’s trying, isn’t he? She would never be able to manage the pain that he has to endure.
But it hurts for me, too.
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srbachchan · 6 months ago
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DAY 5943
Jalsa, Mumbai May 26, 2024 Sun 11:18 PM
đŸȘ” ,
May 27 .. birthday greetings to Ef Bhanu Kumar Bilala .. đŸ™đŸ»đŸš©â€ïž
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🙏
... and here on this lit desk of mine , with thoughts that contemplate what needs to be expressed here and in what dimension and contextual content .. I sit .. at times a gaze on the clock, at times on the reflection on the day passed .. and at times just listening to a creative .. and the immediate visualisation of a cinematic representation, if at all it were to see the light of day ..
Happens so often .. an immediate putting of yourself in a situation which you have devised and associated with the sounds of the tone trunk and tenor of the music ..
There is dislike towards the idea of putting the self in the creativity of an event, a product, a campaign .. as has been expressed often enough here and several other states - the barricaded wall towards the I ME MINE syndrome ..
Many that make such consider it a moment of great sale value ..
Could be for them .. do it if you want to ..
But doing it with me , for me , from me ,does not .. repeat, DOES NOT have compliance ..
Never catered to it and never subscribed to it either .. you or any other brings joy to you .. do it without my participation .. that is a independent right .. you have an opinion, a criticism, laudatory or otherwise , a documented record not contributed by me - fine ..
But my participation in the exercise is uncomfortable for me ..
"Abhorrence towards self-aggrandizement stems from the distaste for excessive self-promotion and narcissism. Society values humility and teamwork, viewing self-aggrandizing behavior as a sign of insecurity and a lack of genuine accomplishment. This disdain is rooted in the belief that true success and worth are recognized through actions and contributions rather than boastful proclamations. Individuals who excessively promote themselves often alienate others, undermining trust and collaboration. The collective preference for modesty and authenticity over self-serving arrogance fosters a more cohesive and respectful community, where achievements are celebrated for their intrinsic value rather than the loudness of their declaration."
... and I glance through the pages of one that has corresponded with Babuji and has , with the collection of his letters, brought out a book ..
one such letter, Babuji's content text says :
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.. he that writes a complicated mind set, does not give a suitable proof of the purity of the writing .. 'why' did Tulsidas write the Ramayan, 'how' did he write it , could be the subject of dissertation among some of the learned intellectual beings .. most of the people just know that Tulsidas wrote the Ramayan .. when there is no deeper thought on 'what' .. then to beat the drum on the 'why' and the 'how' does not clarify or contribute to any meaning ..
It is a response to a letter by someone that has been brought to his notice, and asked him why he does not refute these insincere and absolutely wrong impressions that people have expressed towards his works - in particular 'Madhushala', - which the letter writer complains, is a propagation and a promotion for alcoholism !
à€źà„‡à€°à„‡ à€Șà€Ÿà€ž à€žà„€à€źà€żà€€-à€¶à€•à„à€€à€ż à€čà„ˆ à„€ à€źà„‚à€°à„à€–à€€à€Ÿà€“à€‚ à€•à„‹ à€‰à€€à„à€€à€° à€Šà„‚à€ à€Żà€Ÿ à€•à€żà€žà„€ à€°à€šà€šà€Ÿà€€à„à€źà€• à€•à€Ÿà€°à„à€Ż à€źà„‡à€‚ à€Čà€—à€Ÿà€Šà€
I have limited time and strengths .. do I spend my time replying and responding to foolish idiots, or putting my efforts in use towards more creative cognitive work ..
And here endeth the lesson for the day ..
The IPL Final is over and KKR have WON a most convincing victory .. SRH were simply outplayed .. disappointing in many ways becuse SRH is a good team and one has seen their very grand performances over the days when they played other matches ..
But what was most touching to observe was the pretty young lady , .. the owner of SRH, in the Stadium, get emotional after the loss and break into tears, turning her face away from the cameras, so as not to display her emotion .. I felt bad for her !!
Never mind .. tomorrow is another day .. my dear !!
Indeed .. to quote that famous line from the film 'Gone with the Wind' when the character of Rhett Butler, played by the great Clark Gable turns away from his lady love Scarlett O' Hara, played by the inimitable Vivien Leigh, in the climax and leaves saying :
" Frankly .. I couldn't give a damn ..!!
and she responds as he walks away :
'.. i'll get him back .. after all tomorrow is another day .. '
YES yes , yes ..
to all that fail .. do not give up .. for ..
'tomorrow is another day ...
My love .. ❀
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Amitabh Bachchan
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