#yes it’s v sexy but it gives me butterflies too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pilothusband · 3 years ago

Text

Dame lo que quiero

Rating: Explicit (18+ only!)

Pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

Word Count: 4,271

Warnings: alcohol, more coworker hate, oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v sex, light choking, gratuitous description of the male anatomy, idk y’all I was really feelin’ it when I wrote this one

Author’s Note: I’m... yeah I don’t know. Don’t look at me. Javier is such a beautifully written character so I was very nervous to write this and post it. Title is based off the Juanes song Dámelo because it’s about getting down to pound town, just like this fic.

Out of all the topics the team decided to bring up on your first night off in ages, they had to choose sex. It’s not like you’re a prude or a blushing virgin, but you can count every hookup on one hand and none of them are memorable or satisfying. One of the guys on the team, Matt, immediately figures you out when you stutter over a reply to a question he directs your way.

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

Everyone’s eyes are on you, in addition to Matt’s beady ones, as you take a tentative sip from your beer. You can hear a couple of your coworkers cough down a chuckle. It’s no secret they all think you’re wound tight. Little do they know it has nothing to do with your sex life and everything to do with your disdain for them.

“Uh,” you clear your throat and look around at the group of people looking back at you expectantly. A drop of sweat makes its way down your temple. “I don’t know.”

Matt smirks.

“Okay, Mary, I’ll spare you.” A few people laugh along with his jab comparing you to the Virgin Mary. The only one who doesn’t chuckle is Javier. He’s off to the side, leaning towards the wall and sipping on his whiskey neat. He looks almost contemplative.

You can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment, but you don’t give Matt the satisfaction of showing your emotions. He focuses the conversation back on himself and regales the group about the time he had sex in a public park. Gross.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the bar to get another drink and lean on the counter, elbows resting on the table in front of you.

“Matt’s an asshole,” you hear Javier’s voice over your shoulder and jump a little, not expecting him to be right there.

“He’s an idiot,” you agree. You’ve always liked Javier, despite not knowing him very well. Conversations with him at work didn’t seem as banal as they did with others. Though you tend to stay out of his way, considering he’s doing the hardest job out of all of you at the DEA headquarters.

“It’s not easy meeting people in another country. I just don’t get why they think it’s any of their business.”

“It’s none of my business either,” Javi drawls, taking another sip from his drink.

“I know that,” you say defensively. You soften your next sentence, afraid you may have sounded a little defensive. “I don’t mind talking to you about it because…” you trail off, waving your hand in a gesture to come up with your next words carefully.

“Because why?” His lip pulls up in a sideways smirk. You have to swallow to tamp down the butterflies that flutter through your stomach.

“Because I like talking to you, unlike all of them.”

The look in Javier’s eyes melts from playful to something softer. He looks down at the tumbler in his hand and huffs, then smiles.

“I like talking to you too, gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous, huh?” You arch an eyebrow teasingly. “Trying to butter me up so I spill all my sexy secrets to you?”

“Partly, yes.” He says and cocks his head to the side. How does he manage to look so fucking hot when he does that? “And partly because you’re gorgeous.”

You’re inwardly scolding yourself for flirting with your coworker in front of the entire DEA team, but there’s no way you’re not going to see this out.

Before your brain can catch up with your eyes, Javier steps closer, crowding his body into your space, feet angled in your direction as he leans into the bar, the hand that isn’t occupied by his drink is flat on the table top, merely an inch from your fingertips.

“So tell me, gorgeous,” he pauses to watch you fluster over the nickname again and grins. “Have you met anyone worth your while?”

You really should deflect his question and change the subject, but you like Javier, no matter what the other idiots in the office say about him. He’s dedicated, intelligent, respectful, and so fucking charming. He may be about ten years your senior, and ridiculously sexy, but you somehow feel comfortable talking to him.

You. You you you you.

“Pickings are slim when you’re surrounded by these clowns,” you tell him, gesturing with your beer bottle towards the group of DEA personnel, who are currently cheering on Matt and banging on the table while he chugs his drink. “I wouldn’t fuck any of them if they were the last men on Earth.”

Javier’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline before he tips his head back and laughs. You can’t help but stare at the column of his throat with the movement. You’re delighted to find a dimple that makes its way onto his cheek when he laughs.

You can’t help but smile at his expression. He always looks so grim, so tired to the bone. You wonder if this is the first time he’s laughed today.

He sobers and focuses his gaze on you, his eyes half-lidded as he regards you.

“You know,” he starts, places his glass on the counter, and leans forward so his warm breath fans over your face. “If you want, I could show you a good time.”

You bite your lip as something clenches pleasantly inside you.

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m reading things wrong.” His eyes flick down to your mouth as he waits for your response.

“Okay,” you breathe. The room feels like the temperature has notched up 10 degrees and your jacket feels constricting.

“You sure?” He asks, tipping up your chin so he can read your expression.

“Absolutely.”

Javi backs up a measure and grabs his half empty glass, tipping it to his lips to down it all in one go. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid rushes down his throat. He wipes his mustache with his sleeve and slams the glass down.

“Let’s go.”

The walk back to the DEA assigned apartments is short, but tense, at least for you. Javier looks as relaxed as ever, sauntering down the side streets as if he isn’t about to fuck one of his coworkers. This probably isn’t as much of a big deal to him, you reason with yourself. He’s an experienced man who has no qualms with letting his sensual side take over. You, on the other hand, are terrified that you’re going to embarrass yourself.

The street inclines on a curved hill, where the apartment building rests just ahead. You can feel your heart beating in your throat with every step you take.

“Your place or mine?” You ask him.

“Yours,” he replies decisively. “I want you to feel comfortable.”

Something in your chest constricts with affection at his thoughtfulness. He must know how rare this kind of thing is for you. Instead of replying, you nod and look forward, not quite trusting yourself to speak at the moment.

A few moments later, you’re unlocking your door and letting Javier into the small dwelling. You lock the door behind you, throw your keys in a tray by the door and switch a lamp on, then fidget, unsure of your next move.

“So um, my bedroom is just this way.”

“Hold on, gorgeous,” Javi interjects and steps into space, his mouth inches from yours. He lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear softly. “Can I kiss you first?”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you look at him in the muted light of your living room. There’s something in his expression that’s so raw, so honest and open. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before. It’s that moment you realize Javier is a man of actions, not just words. The way he’s giving himself to you so freely, waiting patiently for you to open yourself to him, has an unfamiliar emotion washing over you in waves.

You close the gap and capture his lips instead of replying. Javier cups your cheek and returns the kiss fervently. His lips are soft, pliant. You thought his mustache would scratch at your upper lip, but it tickles pleasantly as your mouths move together in tandem. His other hand finds its way in your hair, fingers gripping the strands lightly.

A surge of confidence shoots its way through your spine as you lick imploringly at his bottom lip, asking for more.

Javier groans and tightens his hold in your locks, the other hand making its way down your back to pull you closer. The first touch of his tongue coupled with his satisfied groan has you whimpering into his mouth, a noise he must enjoy, since he squeezes your waist, his large hand wrapping around your side.

You find you love how much bigger he is than you– not just in height and breadth, but also the feel of his hands, feverish and searching as he maps out the curves of your body. He’s all-encompassing, pulling you into his orbit and crashing over you in one big, giant wave.

You’ve caught whiffs of his cologne in the halls at the office as he walks by every so often, but that doesn’t compare, even a little bit, to this moment. He still smells like how you remember– with the expensive notes of his cologne, mingling in with the smell of tobacco, and whiskey, but you also smell something you can’t place that has you sighing into his mouth, fingertips skimming over his neck and trailing down his chest.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“Shall we?” The timbre of his voice is low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You step back and pull him towards your room. His eyes are sparkling with a hint of mirth and hunger as you pull him through the threshold, as if he’s letting you take control but only for the moment.

His hands take hold of yours as he peppers kisses down your jaw and neck, drinking you in.

“Will you take your clothes off for me, pretty one?”

You whine with need as he sucks lightly on your neck; goosebumps erupt over your arms.

“Fuck. Yes, Javi.”

As soon as his mouth leaves your body, he pushes your jacket down your arms, letting it slip to the floor, then his fingers skim the hemline of your shirt, anticipating your next move.

You lift the garment over your head and your shoes and jeans follow quickly, wanting to get them off as soon as possible, praying Javi can’t sense how fast your heart is beating, or how you tripped over one of your shoes in the process.

You’re left hesitating in your bra and panties, nerves getting the best of you. It doesn’t help that Javi is still fully clothed.

“Can I?” He asks, hand reaching around your back to thumb at the clasp. He’s so close you could lick the sweat from his neck.

“Yes,” you breathe, mouthing at Javi’s throat, pulling a groan from him.

All he has to do is flick his wrist and your bra is falling from your shoulders. You toss it to the side and look down, nervous of his reaction.

“Shit, baby,” he rasps, pushing your chin up so you’re forced to look into his dark eyes. All you can see in them is raw need. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

His fingers dance down from your throat down between your bare breasts, his touch light as air.

He leans in to pull you into a scorching kiss, tongue curling languidly around yours. You make a soft noise of surprise when he palms at your chest, squeezing softly and pinching your nipple between his splayed fingers.

You arch your back towards him and make a high-pitched, breathless whine. You can feel his mouth turn up into a grin.

“You got sensitive nipples, baby?” He whispers, breath hot in your ear.

“Mmm,” is all you’re able to say as he twists your nipple between his skilled fingers. His other hand copies the action with your other nipple and you keen as arousal pools to your cunt.

He lets you enjoy the moment for a while, alternating from harsh tugs to soothing caresses.

“Take off your panties and lay down for me baby,” he murmurs in your ear, words followed with a soft kiss to your temple.

You comply, hook your thumbs into the waistband and pull them down your legs, then lay back on your bed, on full display for Javier to drink you in.

“Shit, baby,” His eyes are impossibly dark as they roam over your form. “You’re an angel.”

His gaze shifts down to where you’re glistening for him, slick pooled down between your legs and leaking out of your aching pussy.

His finger traces your slit; his touch too light to give you the delicious pressure you need. He’s still fully clothed, his blue shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, straining over his chest as he breathes.

“Already so wet,” he remarks, swiping his fingers through your folds. You whine and cant your hips towards his hand, but he lifts it and sucks his fingers into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed at the taste as he groans.

“Taste so fuckin’ good baby.”

He pulls his shirt out from his jeans and unbuttons it, each inch of skin glowing in the golden light of your bedroom. Javi shrugs it off his shoulders and your brain fizzles out at the slopes of his shoulders, the dip of his clavicles. Javier Peña is a piece of fucking art.

He’s midway through unzipping his jeans when he looks up and catches your expression. You can’t see your own face, but it must reflect the mixture of awe and affection simmering under the surface, threatening to burst through.

The fly of his jeans is unzipped, the curls of his pubic hair on display through the triangle of exposed skin and your mouth waters at the sight. You can see the base of his cock as it strains against the tight denim, and you want– no, need, to get your mouth on him.

“Fuck,” he swears, looking down at you. He’s gripping his cock through the material of his pants, knuckles turning white and jaw clenching with desire.

You’re touching yourself, finger circling your clit in lazy circles; you didn’t even notice you were doing it until he said something.

He pushes the denim down and kicks it off, cock bobbing as he strides towards the bed to climb over you and cage you in his arms.

“That’s my job,” he says, capturing you in another kiss.

Your hands fly up to his head, curling into his hair as he grinds into you. He’s gyrating so slowly, so languidly that you can feel heat drip down your core like honey. The pressure he’s giving you is decadent. His cock is wedged between your bodies, positioned so the base of it is coated in your arousal.

You’re grasping the base of his spine, where his back dips down low, a spot that seems designed specifically for your hands to fit. You let a hand trail down when he lands a particularly deep push into your hips, and squeeze the flesh of his ass, relishing as it gives at the action, soft and smooth. He moans and kisses you harshly in response, panting into your mouth.

“Need to fucking taste you. Fuck.”

He leaves fervent, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, pauses at your nipples to swirl his tongue around them with sloppy movements of his tongue, then sucks them into his mouth, earning a frantic moan that rips from your throat.

His mouth continues its path down your stomach and pauses as he’s face-to-face with your cunt, absolutely dripping with need. To your dismay, he skips over that part of you completely and kisses your inner thigh, then shifts his attention to the other thigh once he’s decided the first one is marked up to his liking.

When his mouth latches onto your pussy you're so shocked you can’t help the “oh” that escapes your parted lips.

Javi chuckles, then sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue out to chase it. You usually have a hard time enjoying this, overthinking in the moment, but now all you can focus on is the wet heat of Javier’s mouth as he plunges his tongue into you like a man starved.

It’s the pressure of his tongue lapping circles around your clit; it’s the image burning in your memory, of his shoulders keeping your legs apart, brown locks disheveled, dipping as he licks at your folds. Then he inserts a finger and curls it upwards, testing the waters before he adds a second finger. He pumps them in and out of your aching cunt until yo’;re seeing stars. You’re thrashing around in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the sensation but needing more simultaneously.

You can feel the pleasure building like a crescendo, simmering in your belly and spreading up your spine to all of your limbs as you arch your back and cry out as you come. Your legs shake with the force of your orgasm and Javier laps it all up, catching every drop of you until the aftershocks quivering through your thighs quiet down.

He hums and gives you one last kiss in a spot that has you bucking from oversensitivity, then lifts himself back up to your face, hovering above you for a moment until you cup the back of his head and drag him down to kiss you.

You love that your arousal lingers on his lips and tongue. A selfish part of you hopes he never forgets the way you taste. You’re sure as hell you won’t be able to forget him.

“Let me suck your cock, Javi,” you murmur in between swift kisses to his lips. He moans into your mouth.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” he argues weakly, his resolve crumbling at the drop of a hat. He’s already settling beside you, back against the headboard and legs spread, his thick, hard cock standing at attention. You love that he can’t say no, too turned on by the idea of your lips wrapped around him.

You roll over and kiss him deeply, then jump down to his heaving chest. You can tell he’s trying to control himself and wants to let you take the reins for a little while.

You move down his body until you’re face level with his cock, mouth watering as your hands trail down his torso, tangling through his pubic hair. You can’t recall ever seeing such a beautiful dick in your entire life. Thick and long, with veins running down the sides, tapering up to a big, fat head that has you licking your lips in anticipation.

You note the way his stomach, soft and lean, jumps at your touch, and how hips arch towards you. This man. This smart, capable, deeply guarded man is losing his composure because of your attention. You don’t waste time, grasping his cock in your hand as you lick a stripe up the underside. He groans as his hands fly to your head, spurring you on as you take him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as your tongue swirls around his length.

Javi lets out a needy moan when you lower your mouth as far down as it will go without gagging. You pause for a moment to breathe out your nose and relax your throat, then plunge forward to take him into your throat.

Javier lets out a punctured shout as he lurches forward, hand grasping your shoulder and squeezing it hard. Your nose nudges the curls of his pubic hair and you rest there for a moment, waiting until you can’t take it anymore and need to come up for air. You gag a little as you come up and leave a string of saliva leading from your mouth to his cock, shiny with your saliva and practically pulsating in your hand.

“Fuck,” he pants, breathless and dizzy. “Need to fuck you, pretty one. Will you let me fuck you?”

You nod breathlessly, panting from exertion. Javi’s hand cups your jaw tenderly, drawing you up towards him.

“Been wanting to taste you for ages, baby,” he groans, licking into your mouth. “Wearing those little pantsuits around the office, showing all those pendejos who’s boss.”

“Wanted you too,” you breathe, crawling forward so you can line yourself up and sink down onto him. Javi groans and clenches his jaw.

“So fucking tight, baby,” he grits out.

It takes a few moments for you to adjust to him. Javier is ever the gentleman, waiting for you to lead the way before he moves. You gyrate your hips experimentally, earning a grunt from the man below as he looks up at you. A rush of arousal drips down, leaking towards Javier’s balls as you make eye contact. He grabs onto your hips and bucks up in response, moaning your name.

It doesn’t take long until you’re bouncing up and down on his cock. He’s entranced by your breasts, lips parted in wonder, and leans forward to take one into his mouth. He bites down on a nipple, just hard enough for it to sting before he laps at it to soothe the pain. You can’t help the shriek that rips from your throat as he hits a deep spot inside of you simultaneously. Your moans are bouncing off the ceiling as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Take my cock so well, gorgeous,” he growls

“Javi,” you choke out. “Gonna–” you don’t have the chance to finish the sentence before you’re gasping for air, contracting around his dick so hard he has to dig his fingers into the plush of your ass to calm himself down,

He gives you a moment to breathe before he leans forward, breath hot in your ear. “Can I fuck you from behind, baby?”

“Yes, fuck. Please.”

He takes no time to flip you over. You lean forward on all fours, waiting for his next move. He plunges forward, seating himself inside fully and immediately drills into you as if his life depended on it. Your breaths come out in punctured heaves, each thrust of Javi’s hips hitting you deeper and deeper.

One of his hands is resting on your hip, the other is on your breast. Your knees start to wobble with fatigue, something Javi notices and solves by hauling you up and cradling you into his chest, with one arm across your torso, resting on your chest, and the other cupping you by your sex, rubbing at your clit in harsh circles.

It’s perfect– the combination of his hard, frantic thrusts and his attention on your clit, but it’s missing something. You grab the hand that’s pinching at your nipple and move it up to your throat, squeezing it with yours to show him what you want.

“You sure, baby?” He pants. You nod in response. “Okay, honey. Tap on my leg three times if it’s too much, you got that?”

You nod again.

“Need you to say it out loud, gorgeous.”

“Yes– Javi. Yes.”

The hand on your throat tightens just a fraction. All you can focus on is the sound of skin hitting skin, along with the filthy sounds of your cunt drenching his cock with every thrust. He tightens his grip a little more on the sides of your throat until your airflow is just restricted enough to leave you gasping and spasming around his cock.

You aren’t sure if the choked sound is coming from you or Javier, but it doesn’t matter at this point– your orgasm hits you like a freight chain as your thighs shake and your vision gets fuzzy around the edges. As soon as you grip his length with your final contraction, Javier releases your throat and comes hard, shooting his release into your fluttering pussy.

He doesn’t let go of you when he’s finished. Instead, he holds onto you closer and rolls you onto his chest as he collapses backwards into the sheets, his lungs burning as he catches his breath. There’s a few moments where you’re both lay there, absorbing the moment.

“Fuuuuck,” he lets out, long and labored.

You let out a tired giggle in response.

“It’s a goddamn shame you had a dry spell, gorgeous. Glad I got to be the one to end it.”

You slip off his chest so you can cuddle into his side. He’s drenched in sweat, but then again so are you.

“Me too,” you tell him softly, stroking his jaw.

“Was kind of hoping we can do this again,” he says in an equally soft tone. “If you want that.”

He doesn’t seem insecure, but instead cautiously optimistic.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles with a flash of his teeth and leans in to kiss you deeply, tangling his fingers in your hair. After a beat, he breaks the kiss and looks over at you with a kind of look in his eye you don’t know how to decipher, but it has the words bubbling from your throat before you can stop them.

“Want to stay the night? Maybe wake up in a few hours for round two?”

Javier lets out a chuckle, deep and throaty. He almost looks relieved.

“I’d like that very much,” he tells you, capturing your mouth in a slow, languid kiss.

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#javier peña #narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!eader #pedro pascal #let's try this again since the first post got flagged lmao

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juletheghoul · 3 years ago

Note

Hey sweetie, hope you're doing well. Better than me I hope, in this Texas heat!!!😥🤤 When your muse permits, may I please have some more Dave York? I am a shameless slut for that suburban murder Dilf!!!

Hello lovely!

Okay - so I've written more for the soft!Dave fic I gave a preview for in this post and here and this picks up where that left off.

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader (soft!dave)

Smut under the cut (18+ NO MINORS semi-public touching, p in v sex, oral-female receiving) (word count 2.6k)

All in all it had gone better than he thought. He enjoyed your company - he found you attractive and you liked him. That was all he needed. The fact that you made him laugh had been a bonus. You were his new mission and it wouldn’t have mattered what you were like in all honesty but this was good. This he could work with.

He hadn’t meant to kiss you like that, he planned to take it a little slower, just a little peck to show you he was interested. He definitely didn’t expect you to open up for him like that, and he definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Another bonus.

He didn’t want to scare you away by reaching out too quickly, figuring a couple of days should be time enough. He wanted to make sure this worked out. He expected the same game of cat and mouse men and women have been playing with each other forever. He had waited to message you - which meant he would probably hear from you in a few hours.

-Hi - It’s Dave from the other night, wondering if you wanted to grab dinner on Friday?

He was doing some reconnaissance for an upcoming job and he wanted to read through his reports; he wasn’t expecting you to respond so quickly. Frankly, it was refreshing.

-Hey! Yes I’d love to, really happy to hear from you =)

He smiled despite himself, he didn’t expect you to be so open and honest.

-I’m glad to hear, I had a great time

He could see you typing your response before he put his phone down so he waited.

-Me too, thought maybe I’d scared you away - usually don’t make out on the first date

-Me either - glad we did though, you definitely did not scare me away. Just at work right now. Maybe we could talk more later?

-Sure! Hope you have a great day =)

-You too!

----

He kept up the communication with you when he got home, answering your messages as he cooked himself a small dinner. He asked you all the questions people usually ask when getting to know someone, he flirted the best he could. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you were interested, without being vulgar. He briefly considered whether this was manipulation, presenting himself in a way he knew you’d respond to in order to secure a relationship. In a sense everyone did this, the difference was they liked the people they were chasing.

He didn't not like you, he just didn’t really like anyone. It all came from his training and subsequently, his job. He learned long ago to not hold onto anyone too close, it hurt more when you lost them.

This was good though, he was content.

----

You couldn’t lie to yourself about how excited you were when Friday came around. He was consistent which was really important to you, he kept up with the messages and asked you actual questions and he seemed interested. It had been so long since you’d dated someone, since you felt excited about someone and seeing his messages gave you butterflies.

You had to stop yourself from running to the door when he knocked; you did your absolute best to reign in your heartbeat as you opened the door.

“Hi - hope I’m not too early.” He smiled - giving you a not so subtle onceover which made you momentarily self-conscious of your outfit choice; he must have taken notice of your expression.

“You look beautiful, are you ready to go?”

“Thank you - you look really handsome - Yes I’m ready.” You smiled as you grabbed your purse and locked your door.

You didn’t think this date could have gone better than the first but it did. He was charming, he was sweet and most importantly he made you laugh. His sense of humour was a lot like yours, dry and witty although you knew you could be a bit goofier than him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high but you really liked his company and although it was still early, you could see this getting more serious.

When he walked you to your front door you didn’t play coy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I really want you to kiss me.” You moved closer - peering up at him through your lashes, hoping that you looked sexy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” He was smirking at you and you felt yourself flush. His hand almost engulfed your face as he pulled you in closer.

The kiss was searing; his tongue licked the seam of your mouth - asking for permission which you gladly gave. He deepened it further, pressing you up against your front door- his hands moving from your face to your waist. He slanted his mouth to get deeper, to make you ache. Your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him closely while you pressed your body as close to him as you could. It went on longer than it had any right to.

When he pulled away you were both panting.

“I had a really great time, goodnight.” He kissed you softer then and waited for you to make your way inside. Any longer and you would have pulled him into the house with you by his belt. You were happy he made the decision for you.

----

You had a few more dates and they were going better than you had imagined. He had come over for dinner one night, which ended in a very heavy makeout session on your couch before he went home. He was being really respectful which you appreciated, you really liked him and in the back of your mind you were nervous that he’d lose interest as soon as you gave it up. It was frustrating, because you were reaching your limit.

----

You walked through the parking lot with him hand in hand, on your way into the theatre. He had let you pick the movie - horror of course - and you were excited to cuddle up with him. You had a plan tonight and it sent a hot spike of arousal through your belly.

He didn’t let you pay for anything usually but you insisted he at least let you pay for the snacks, it didn’t seem like he would let you but you gave him a pout and he relented. Smiling good naturedly and grumbling about not making that pout a habit.

You lifted the seat divider as soon as you picked out your seats, making your intentions of getting close quite clear. He seemed to have the same idea; bringing his arm around you and firmly tucking you into his side.

He smells so good you thought to yourself as you leaned into the crook of his neck, barely paying attention to the trailers. His palm rubbed at your arm through the soft material of your sundress as the movie started, the both of you getting lost in it briefly. When it got too gruesome or scary you tucked your face into his neck, bringing your hands up to block out the screen.

You felt him chuckle then, his low velvety voice whispering in your ear.

“We can leave if you don’t want to watch this.” He said it without judgement, caring only for your comfort even though this could have been an excuse for him to have you close. It hardened your resolve.

“No, I want to stay, but I think I'd like it better if you distracted me.” You gave him a mischievous smile, hoping he’d take the hint. Thankfully - he did.

He tipped your chin up and kissed you softly at first, but deeper as time went on. This was going to work, you could feel his desire for you in it. You were afraid he’d be scandalized at what you wanted him to do but you couldn’t wait anymore. You tentatively reached for the arm around your shoulder and brought down to grab your breast. He pulled away suddenly and it made you nervous - maybe he wasn’t into this.

“Here?” He wasn’t scandalized, he was wearing a smirk - seemingly enjoying the thought of it, feeling you up in the movie theatre like a teenager.

“Do you want to? It’s okay if you don’t.” he could see your self-doubt written across your face.

“Only if you promise to be quiet for me.” He whispered it into your ear and you almost let out a moan. He kissed you again and this time you felt his hand dip into the breezy neckline of your dress, surprising you even further by reaching into your bra. He held you close, moving his kisses to your jaw, your pulse point - rolling your nipple between his fingers by the time he reached your ear.

You were breathing a little heavy as he pulled at it slightly, anyone could have looked over and seen the two of you but it didn’t matter - not when it felt so good.

“Is this what you wanted? Does it feel good, baby?” He spoke in a low voice as he bit your ear and you could feel the arousal leaking out of you. He pinched at the other through the fabric as he kissed you again and it was too much, you grabbed at his thigh, breathing out a god yes as he continued his ministrations.

“I wish I could lick them right now, bite them a little bit, would you let me?” He was pulling at the collar of your dress slightly, enough for him to see into your dress a little.

“Right now? What if someone sees?” You were asking even though the thought of his mouth on your tits in the middle of a movie theatre almost made you cum in itself.

“I would be really careful, just a little lick.” He kissed your neck as he spoke and you realized then that you would have let him do whatever he wanted.

“Okay - fast though.” You laughed conspiratorially - you felt reckless and wild, and excited to have him touch you this way. He pulled you close to him, turning in his seat slightly and quickly pulled your dress down along with the cup of your bra. Seeing your breast out while there were -admittedly- very few people in the movie theatre caused your heart to race. He kept his word though, quickly lowering his head to lick your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue around it had you biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. He couldn’t just have one though, pulling down the other cup to lavish the other one with the same attention and then quickly adjusting it so you were decent again.

You didn’t think you could make it through this movie with how your body was responding to him. Your panties were sticking to your body, your slick running freely and his words only served to amp up the arousal.

“Look what you did to me.” He brought your hand to the sizeable bulge in his jeans. You gasped slightly at the size, and suddenly you didn’t want to be in the theatre any more.

“Take me home David, now.” Your tone was iron and he didn’t argue; hastily pulling you up out of your seat in his haste to obey. The grip he had on your waist as he walked through the theatre and through the parking lot made you laugh with nervous excitement. You saw that he had an intensity about him that had you clenching painfully around nothing.

When you arrived at your place you practically ran inside; you had barely managed to close your door when he picked you up. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he held onto your ass. He walked you towards your room, pausing briefly to push you up against the wall in the hallway, halfway up the stairs, your bedroom door. Finally dropping you onto your bed.

He fell onto you and ground his hips against the soft fabric at your core. He was so thick, the pressure of him grinding into you was just right and you pulled at his shirt - wanting to feel his skin against you and when he took over you sat up to pull your dress off. He had your bra off faster than you thought possible.

“So pretty.” He dove in, sucking and biting at your nipples - drawing out whimpers and moans as you held his head close to your chest. You could see his saliva glistening on the soft skin of your tits when he alternated from one to the other and you couldn’t hold off any more.

“Please fuck me.” You pulled his face up from your chest to breathe the words into his mouth, the coil in your belly was already wound tight and he hadn’t even gone near your pussy yet.

“I didn’t bring a condom.” He looked a bit sheepish now, hoping against hope you’d have one.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean - but we can do other things if you aren’t comfortable.” You stroked his face softly, trying to convey that you wanted him either way. He hastily got up and took the rest of his clothes off while you shimmied out of your underwear. His cock bobbed out when he finally shed his layers, the tip of it weeping slightly - making your mouth water. He was bigger than your last sexual partner and though intimidated slightly, you were excited.

He crawled towards you as you watched him, settling his face between your thighs.

“You liked it when I licked your nipples baby? Look how wet and glossy you are.” He licked a strip from your fluttering entrance to your clit; he parted you with his tongue and focused on your clit, letting his saliva drip down to make you wetter. The steady glide of his tongue drove you into a frenzy. You barely registered your hands grabbing his hair, using him to grind yourself against his tongue. You were not going to last, you could feel yourself careening over the edge. The wave of it quickly racing up to crash over you. When he slowly slid two thick fingers into your cunt and curled them just so, the wave crested. Your body seizing up with the force of your climax.

“You taste so good baby.” He kissed your mound, the dip in your hip; he slowly made his way up the soft skin of your belly, pausing to give each nipple a quick lick before he settled between your legs. You felt the heavy weight of him sliding through your folds, the blunt tip of him nudging at your clit making you wince with overstimulation before he gradually fed himself into you.

He wrapped your legs high on his waist and rocked into you at a steady pace, you could see from his ragged breathing he was trying not to jack hammer into your wet heat, he was trying to make himself last.

The stretch of him was delicious, you felt full and his cock was hitting something that made you fall silent; made your eyes clench shut against his neck. You could tell he was getting close when he crushed you underneath him, resting almost all of his weight on top of you while he snapped his hips forward harder and harder. The sound of your joining a wet slap as he moaned in your ear - whispering about how good your pussy felt, how tight and wet it was, how he was going to cum- but not before he felt you cum first. He reached between you to rub little circles onto your clit, begging you to cum around him.

You obeyed, and he didn’t hold out much longer.

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Tagging a few people I think might enjoy:

@foli-vora @ezrasbirdie @quica-quica-quica @beskarboobs @wheresarizona @absurdthirst

#suburban murder daddy #dave york ask #dave york x reader fic #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x wife reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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freakiish · 4 years ago

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Dirty Little Valentine

This has been in my drafts for so long it’s bad and not proofread, but my Valentine’s Day gift to my whores. Xoxo

Smut

It was very frustrating, being one of the only people in the house without a valentine. Not a single plan, but having to sit and listen to everyone else’s lovey dovey bullshit.

As the sun is setting and everyone is finally away at their Valentine’s Day activities, I feel myself getting hungry so I make my way to the kitchen. While I’m pondering through the fridge I hear someone else walk in behind me. “Hey Vinnie, I thought I was the only person home tonight.” He smiles, “Looks like we’re both lonely bitches this year.” I smile and let out a small giggle. Vinnie and I aren’t really close. We talk on occasion, pass each other a quick smile. I don’t believe we’ve ever been alone together, not even once. As I’m standing here really taking in his presence, I look over his dazzling arms....eyes..... lips. Wow this boy is quite perfect. “What?” he says and I quickly look away slightly blushing. “Nothing” I say shyly. “No really... What is it?” Now he’s stepping closer to me, so close that I am backed up into the corner of the counter. I feel the thick tension between us. I tell myself to be bold, “Just admiring you, never really got the chance.” He smiles down at me, getting closer and closer until he’s centimeters away from my face, “we’re going to be here for god knows how long all by ourselves... alone, on Valentine’s Day.” “Yeah..?” I bit my lip looking up at him.

“Fuck” he grabs me tightly by the neck colliding our lips together. I’m forcefully kissing back in a matter of seconds. His wet lips travel all around my neck while I let out soft moans. “Jump” he growls demandingly in my ear. Next thing I know I’m being thrown onto his bed. “Are you sure about this y/n?” “Yes V please.” “My dirty little Valentine” he says with dark lustful eyes.

He rips off my top immediately massaging my breasts attaching his soft lips to my nipples. I let out a small squeal when he gently bites down. “God you’re so fucking sexy I’m going to destroy this pussy” Vinnie says while he makes his way down to take my pants off. I spread my legs for him while he stands admiring the view of my silky panties. He presses his thumb down hard to my clit making me gasp, swirling my hips around. He lays a hard smack on my inner thigh “stop fucking moving” then my underwear are being ripped off me. He takes his fingers and rubs them between my folds. “Wettest pussy I’ve ever seen” he says smacking it lightly making me jump. He puts a finger in me teasingly. “More Vin please.” “More what?” He’s being such a tease. “More f-fingers... in.. me come on Vinnie please.” He then puts a second finger in pumping hard while wrapping his other hand around my throat. My moans fall out of my mouth uncontrollably until I am shut up by a sloppy kiss. He takes his fingers out of me bringing them to my lips. “Suck,” he demands. I quickly suck all of my juices off his long fingers. He removes his other hand from my neck leaving a small slap on my cheek. He gets up removing his shirt. I watch in awe at how beautiful he is. He just smiles at me, spreading my legs open lowering his face down to my throbbing pussy. He spreads open my folds and licks straight up to my clit leaving small kisses all around. “Oh my god Vin come on,” his mouth attacks my core. Sucking and licking all around and I can’t contain my moans. He feels so good. “V you’re going to make me cum just from your mouth like this.” He only goes faster “IM CUMMING IM CUMMING IM CUMMING,” I scream and shake, but he doesn’t slow down even a little bit. I’m a shaky mess when he pulls away spitting on my pussy giving it a few more laps.

He gets up once more to take his pants off, his dick bouncing up to his lower stomach. My eyes widen at the sight. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, “Any other day I’d fuck that little throat, but I can’t keep that sweet pussy waiting hmm?” He goes to get a condom. “No, please fuck me right now Vin I’m on the pill,” I say. Without objection he rubs his cock over my pussy giving it a few taps before slipping his tip inside me. We both let out a moan at the feeling. He slips in slowly until he can’t go in anymore, pulls out, and does it again, making butterflies erupt within me. “That tight pussy wraps around me so good,” he starts moving slightly faster. “Come on Vinnie harder, faster I can take it,” he shakes his head “fucking whore,” he puts my legs up on his shoulders and drills into me. I’m a moaning mess. “God you take my dick so fucking good, your pussy just sucks me in slut,” he says through gritted teeth. He grabs my hand placing it on my lower stomach pushing down slightly, “feel my cock in your tummy sweetheart? So deep in you fuck.” “Shit Vin I’m going to cum again,” I clench around him coming undone once again. He stops moving letting me finish myself on him. He pulls out and flips me over leaving hard smacks to my ass. He rubs his thumb over my asshole. “I bet that ass is so tight, might need to try it sometime too.” He chuckles, slamming his dick back into my pussy harder than ever without warning making me scream out. “Fuck Vinnie holy fuck your cock is so good.” “Yeah? Cum for me one more time dirty slut I want to feel it.” My eyes are rolling to the back of my head I can hardly take anymore. “I’M GOING TO CUM SO FUCKING HARD FOR YOU V.” A wave of pleasure washes over me and I can feel myself cumming hard all over the bed. “Holy shit get on your knees for me.” My legs are so weak I fall to the floor grabbing on to Vinnie’s hips for some kind of leverage. “Oh shit,” he grunts and throws his head back without warning cumming all over my face. I lick the tip of his dick clean and use my fingers to lick up the rest off my face, looking up at him gingerly.

He gets me a wet cloth to clean up a bit, we stare down at the mess I made on his bed. “I am so sorry about that,” I say feeling embarrassed. His arms wrap around my waist giving my ass a squeeze, “don’t be sorry angel, it won’t be the last time,” he murmurs kissing me. “Let’s get cleaned up and watch a movie downstairs while the sheets are in the wash huh?” “Sounds good Vin,” I put on my shirt and bend down to pick up my underwear, but he quickly beats me to it putting them in the nightstand next to his bed. “I’ll meet you downstairs, don’t you dare wear any panties,” he whispers in my ear before pushing me out the door leaving a small smack to my ass. What a lovely Valentine’s Day.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker smut

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wholesomemendes · 4 years ago

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Top of the List

Summary: You’re a junior in college who spends almost all of your time stuck in either your dorm room or the library until you’re forced to go to a frat party where you meet Shawn, who immediately changes your whole college experience.

Author’s Note: I’m backkkkkk. I am so so excited about this one. This was based off a request I got in like May or something like that basically so insanely long ago and I never got to it because I knew it was going to be long. I kinda went off track with the request too a little bit, but I hope you love it as much as I do. It’s my baby so please be kind (also it’s my birthday so please don’t hurt my feelings too much lol). As always, I love hearing any type of feedback and I love you all x

Word Count: 12.2k

The door of your dorm room slammed open as your roommate rushed inside, frantically throwing her bag onto her bed and rummaging through her closet. You peered over the top of your laptop where you were busy editing an essay you had just finished for a class, watching her distressed state with curious eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked almost breathlessly, settling on a silk, light pink top with a plunging v-neck and a short black skirt.

“Why are you rushing so much? Where are you going?”

You would’ve thought you had grown three heads by the way she looked at you and the way she rolled her eyes when she noticed you were being dead serious made you slightly cave in on yourself in disappointment. “How do you not know what’s going on tonight? Sigma Alpha Epsilon is throwing another one of their huge parties, it’s all everyone has been talking about for the past two weeks.”

“I don’t know, must’ve just gone over my head,” you mumbled, feeling a little self-conscious about your lack of knowledge on what was going on in the social life of your campus. Ninety-nine percent of the time your head was stuck in a book or hunched over your laptop doing homework in the library so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that this party was nowhere on your radar.

“Well now you know, so you’re going with me. Chop chop you’ve got to get dressed.”

“HA, you think I’m going to a party?”

She raised an eyebrow at you, silently challenging you to disagree with her, “Um, yes you are. Connor invited me which means I’m inviting you because he invites like 20 girls and I don’t want to be stuck alone all night.”

“You’re not going to be alone all night,” you sighed, closing your laptop before swinging your legs off the side of the bed, “You’re popular enough on campus that you’ll be able to find someone to hang out there with if I’m not there.”

“I know, but it’d be more fun if you were there with me. Pleaseeeeeee.” Natalie pulled out her best puppy dog eyes on you, her bottom lip jutting out to make her face look more innocent, “I’ll even do your makeup and hair for you….and you can borrow some of my clothes!”

“What, are my clothes not good enough or something?”

“They are! They’re just a little too, what’s the word I’m looking for, conservative for a party. You need something a little bit scandalous, you know? Gotta give the boys a little something something.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you before letting out a huff of annoyance and getting up to grab your hand to pull you off of the bed, “Come on, no excuses. Let’s get you ready for tonight.”

__________________________

This wasn’t your scene. Natalie had left you to go play beer pong about thirty minutes after you stepped foot into the loud, alcohol-stenched frat house, but you soon lost sight of her when Connor whisked her away after their team won against two other frat boys to what you could only assume would be his bedroom. You didn’t mind that she left you, you’d rather have one of you enjoying yourself then have her be miserable trying to entertain you. The tight shirt and skirt Natalie forced you into didn’t seem like such a bad idea when you were staring at yourself in the mirror of your dorm (to be honest the way she did your hair and makeup gave you a newfound confidence you hadn’t had in years), but now as you stood in the corner of the kitchen quietly nursing your drink while your eyes scanned the crowd of sweaty college students, you couldn’t feel more insecure and self-conscious. Your arms wrapped around your center, desperately trying to cover up what little skin was to be seen and you wished that Natalie would come down those stairs any second to go back to your dorm with you. You were so lost in your thoughts you hardly noticed the stench of beer get stronger around you or the heat of another body on your shoulder until the unknown person was up against you. “Hey,” the boy who you recognized from one of your writing classes and were pretty sure was a part of another fraternity on campus slurred, “You wanna come dance with me, sexy?”

“Um, no I’m ok, thanks though.” You tried to turn and walk away from him, but were stopped abruptly by his hand gripping your wrist and pulling you closer to him again.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he breathed into your ear, hot breath fanning across your face in the process making you cringe inward on yourself, “I’d love to feel that ass of yours up against me.”

“I said no, I don’t want to dance with you.” You could feel the panic rising in your throat, causing your words to come out broken and weak, and you desperately wished someone would see the fear in your eyes and come help you. His grip on you tightened the more you resisted and in that moment you wished you had never been stupid enough to listen to Natale about how fun this party was going to be.

“And I said you should come dance with me. So why don’t you-” HIs hand was pried off your wrist in seconds and you rubbed the spot where it had left, holding it close to your chest in fear.

“I think she already said no, buddy.” Your savior came in the form of a curly, brown haired boy that stood at least a couple inches over your unwanted dance partner. A scowl was evident on his face, his brown eyes hard and dark, “Now you should probably get out before I ban you from ever stepping foot in this place again.” The other boy left, but not before rudely shoulder checking the person you believed was your hero, which only earned him a scoff in return. “God, can’t stand people like that. They have no common decency for anyone.” He made eye contact with you for the first time that night and your heart skipped a beat, your body feeling somewhat small compared to his tall height. He saw the fearful look in your eyes and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder before looking you up and down for any signs of damage from the previous encounter, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am now that you saved me,” you mumbled slightly, lowering your gaze to your cup in order to avoid his worried look, “Thank you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Well I’m glad I could help. I’m Shawn, by the way, I don’t think we’ve ever met.” Sticking his hand out for you to shake, he gave you a dazzling smile and you immediately recognized him as the president of the fraternity, the one your roommate was constantly talking about trying to get into his pants. Seeing him up close for the first time, you couldn’t help but understand why all the girls wanted to get with him and why a lot of those girls did get with him. There was a blue bandana wrapped around his head pushing back the beautiful curls that adorned his head and his chiseled jaw and bright eyes entranced you, making it hard to look away. His black t-shirt was frayed at the top near the buttons, allowing his few chest hairs to peak out, and his muscles practically bulged out of the short sleeves. You noticed a few tattoos along his arms, one being the one all of the hockey players got after they won their championship, as you shook his hand, but his strong grip broke you out of your thoughts and forced you to look at him again.

“I’m Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Do you need another drink? I know where all of the good alcohol is if you want it,” he winked at you, a smug smirk on his lips as he held his hand up to his face as if he was telling you something top secret.

You looked at the almost empty beer in your hand sadly, but the thought of getting another drink absolutely disgusted you at the moment, “No thank you. I think I’m going to head out actually, I’m a little shaken up to be honest.”

“Don’t go because of that!” Shawn’s voice sounded rushed as if he desperately wanted you to stay, though you pushed the thought aside, knowing that he couldn’t care less about what you did. “If you want you can stay by me for the rest of the night or if you came with someone you can always use my name, I’ve learned it can get you a long way sometimes.”

Your eyes met his once again and you tried to push the butterflies that you were feeling down your throat. “I’m just here with my roommate, but I think she went up with one of your friends,” you admitted bashfully, rubbing your hand up and down your arm nervously, “I haven’t seen her in awhile. Parties aren’t exactly my thing, I’m only here because she forced me to come, so I think I’m just going to text her and then head out.”

“You’re going to walk home alone? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t have any better ones right now.”

“Easy. I’ll walk you home.” He leaned against one of the walls comfortably as he spoke, a large smile on his face the entire time. There wasn’t a look of regret on his face, but you still questioned his motives. Why would he want to go out of his way to make sure you got home safe? Was he just trying to get you in bed with him? But if he was then why was he so adamant about getting that guy off of you?

“Don’t worry about it Shawn, really, I’ll be ok.”

“It’s either that or you’re staying in my room tonight so you don’t have to walk home alone.” There was a confident look in his eyes and he knew he had you beat, causing you to roll your eyes before walking past him towards the door.

His eyes followed you curiously as you walked away, watching as you turned around and beckoned him forward, “Come on then, I want to be asleep before 4,” leaving him to trail behind you like a puppy at your feet. __________________________

The two of you walked to your dorms in a mix of comfortable silence and easy conversation that sparked in the 10 minutes it took to get you home. It was surprising how little awkward tension there was for two people on completely different sides of the spectrum who had never met before today, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You learned he was majoring in music, something that his parents weren’t one hundred percent confident with, though they still supported him nonetheless he assured you, and that he had been playing hockey since he was 6. The moment you got to the door of your building you stopped, ready to thank him for walking with you and move on with the rest of your night, preferably reading your essay one more time before heading to bed, but Shawn had other plans. “Why’d you stop? Did you forget your key or something?”

“No,” you looked at him with furrowed brows, “I think I can walk up to my dorm myself.”

He crossed his arms defensively with a stern look on his face, “Oh I get it, you don’t want me to know which room you’re in. I saved you from some creep and you still think I’m just like him don’t you."

“It’s not that, I just don’t feel comfortable bringing you up to my dorm after we just met.”

“Which is a big deal because…”

“Isn’t me saying that it makes me uncomfortable enough of a reason?” you asked him, mimicking his position as a tiny bit of anger grew inside of you.

Shawn scoffed, rolling his eyes at your words, “Honey, if I wanted to get you in my bed, you’d already be in there by now. There’s no reason to worry about me doing anything to you if you let me walk you up there.”

“Excuse me? Just because you’ve gotten with the entire cheerleading team…”

“Not true...”

“And at least half of the sorority girls…”

“Half is pushing it a little bit…”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d be able to get with me. I don’t have time for a relationship right now and I don’t do random hookups, thank you very much. So thank you for saving me at the party and thank you for walking me home, but that will be all. Good night, Shawn.” With that you turned on your heels, using your key card before slamming the door in his face and heading up the stairs to your dorm. You couldn’t believe it. Right when you thought you were forming a type of friendship or a least mutual respect for someone that wasn’t your roommate it all fell apart like it always did. What were you thinking when Shawn Mendes was the definition of a frat boy? Why would he want to be friends with someone like you? You couldn’t even lie and say that it didn’t hurt a little when he said he would’ve already tried to get you in bed if he wanted to. Were you really that ugly that the boy who practically got with any female that wanted to didn’t want to get with you? Not that you would sleep with him if he had asked you, you did have an unspoken rule with yourself that you didn’t want to do hookups in college, but at least knowing that he found you attractive would have given you a slight confidence boost. You already hated how you had never been asked out by the boys in college, even though you weren’t exactly looking for a guy or putting yourself out there to be asked on a date, and how every girl seemed to sneer at you when you walked past. So that night you cuddled yourself under the covers, vowing to never step foot in another frat house again no matter how much Natalie begged. __________________________

“What are you doing tonight?” Natalie launched herself onto your bed, causing you to let out a groan when she landed on you.

You pushed her off of you while she laughed, making you roll your eyes, “Probably just binge watching some Netflix honestly. Why?”

“Really? That wasn’t what I thought you’d say at all.”

“What’d you think I was going to say?” you laughed as she sat up and leaned against your wall.

“Oh, something along the lines of ‘I have to study for a test that I’ve already taken and rewrite my essay for the thirtieth time’”, she said in a high pitched voice you soon realized was her impression of you.

“Hey, I do not sound like that! And besides, laugh all you want about it, but I’m at the top of the class so I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, I’m just surprised you’re giving yourself a break.”

“I am,” you told her with a smile, “I have no homework to finish tonight or tests coming up or essays that need to be turned in, so I’m finally letting myself have a night off.”

“Or…”

You raised an eyebrow at her, “Or what.”

“Or you could come to the hockey game tonight with me so I’m not alone.”

“Oh hell no, Nat, I’m not doing this again.” You grabbed your laptop off of your side table, already ready to pop open your tv series for the night.

“What do you mean you’re not doing this again? It’ll be fun!”

“Last time you convinced me to go somewhere I almost got harassed by a drunk frat boy and then I got into an argument with another frat boy while you were busy hooking up with a different one.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” she scoffed, climbing off the bed, “Besides, you’ve never been to a hockey game before and you’re a junior. No offense, but do you know how pathetic that sounds. Our school is literally known for hockey! Just once and then I’ll never ask you to go again.” You gave her a stern look, one that threatened her to ask again, but when she flashed her eyes at you, you immediately gave in, rolling your eyes at yourself and already hating yourself for agreeing.

“Fine, but you can’t leave my side the entire night.”

“I promise I won’t! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She brought you into a bone crushing hug before releasing you in favor of searching through her closet for something for the both of you to wear. __________________________

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t enjoying yourself a little bit. Opposed to last time Natalie was still sitting by your side and you had managed to convince her to let you wear one of your school hoodies and a pair of leggings to keep warm instead of the (as she phrased it) ‘hot ass’ outfit she had picked out for you. It was the final 10 minutes of the game and your team was ahead by four points, something everyone had been assured was an easy win from the start. Still, you could tell why everyone liked going to the games, it was energetic and loud and everything you thought a college game would be, but not as overwhelming. Even though Natalie had decided to sit next to Connor and they were relentlessly flirting and managing to have physical contact with one another the entire time, you were so focused on the game that it wasn’t bothering you as much as you imagined it would when you first sat down. You were entranced by the way the players skated across the ice, your eyes immediately drawing to one player in particular that seemed so comfortable on the ice. The moment you saw the back of his jersey though, MENDES written in bright white lettering, your heart dropped a little bit, not wanting to watch him as much as you were. Though it was hard not to when there was a clear reason he was made captain, so you were left to shamelessly follow his fast, steady movements across the ice.

The game soon ended with a win as expected and you were forced to follow Natalie and Connor deeper into the crowd of students to congratulate the team after they came out of their locker room. The crowd was cheering, adrenaline pumping through the air as you walked down the halls until you reached a large open space. Not long after all of the boys were making their way out, Shawn leading the pack like a true captain. A large portion of the girls (mostly puck bunnies or sorority girls or even some that just wanted some attention from the star himself) immediately crowded along Shawn and you could tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying every last second of it. His eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment before landing on yours and you swore you could see his smile falter until it became even brighter than before. He excused himself from the hoard of girls as he headed your way, making your heart stop. Was he really coming to see you? What were you going to say? “Good job”? No, you don’t want to congratulate him, he was rude to you the other night. Don’t let him know how you couldn’t stop watching him the entire game, he doesn’t need another boost to his already huge ego. Is he gonna say something first? What if he…

“Hey man, how’d it look from the crowd?” Shawn asked as he bro-hugged Connor. Your heart dropped. Of course he was coming over here to talk to one of his best friends, why would you think he was coming for you? But you could’ve sworn the two of you had made eye contact. Were you really that stupid?

“Great as always, they were easy today anyways.”

“Yeah we went a little easy on them. Last time we absolutely creamed them and then I got threats from their team about how ‘we were gonna pay for embarrassing them like that,’” Shawn scoffed, “Like we were the ones who embarrassed them.” He turned his head, sending a bright smile your way before finally acknowledging you for the first time tonight, “I’ve never seen you at a game before, do you always leave right after it ends?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, wondering if you should just lie or admit how antisocial you truly were, “No, um this is actually my first hockey game.” Ok, admitting how antisocial you are it is.

“Your first hockey game? What year are you?”

“I’m a junior…”

“You’re a junior and this is your first hockey game?”

“Oh calm down, it’s not that big of a deal,” Natalie chimed in, sensing your discomfort at the situation at hand.

“Wait, don’t tell me.” Shawn rubbed his forehead as if he was thinking before snapping his fingers in Natalie’s direction, “You must be Natalie, right? Y/n was telling me all about you the other night.”

“The other night?”

“Yeah, I walked her home after the party last week. She didn’t tell you?”

Her eyes went wide, looking in your direction with her mouth hanging open while you caved in on yourself, “No, she failed to mention that you were the one to walk her home.”

“Damn, you were that ashamed of me, eh?” Shawn let out a light chuckle before slinging an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

“Wasn’t exactly my proudest moment,” you mumbled, trying your hardest not to lean into his body that seemed so tempting. You didn’t know what body wash he used in his shower, the shower was evident by the slightly wet hair on his head that made him look absolutely breathtaking, but it was extremely inviting and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle your head into his chest and breathe it through your senses.

“Anyways, are you two coming to the party tonight?”

“I mean…” Natalie started, but you cut her off immediately.

“No, we’re heading back after this,” you gave a pointed look in her direction, “Right, Nat?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh come on, don’t be such a party pooper Y/n,” Shawn whined, ruffling your hair and laughing as you swatted his arm away.

“I’m not a party pooper, I’m just,” you stuttered for a second trying to find a decent excuse, “Just not quite dressed appropriately for a party, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense, I think you look great. But if it’s that big of a deal you can borrow my practice jersey and you’ll be all set.” Before you could protest Shawn was already reaching down into his duffle bag and producing a bright blue jersey with his name on the back. It was clear that this wasn’t just some jersey you’d buy in the school spirit shop, it looked as professional as it could, except the different design and tattered edges showed that it was made for practice.

“I’m not putting that on.”

“Why not? I promise it doesn’t smell and besides, don’t you want to let Nat have some fun?” He waved the jersey in front of you with a teasing smile on your face, causing you to roll your eyes before you snatched it out of his grip and pulled it over your sweatshirt. “That’s what I thought,” Shawn smirked as he put his arm back around your shoulders, “Now come on, I’ll drive, Y/n can be shot gun.” __________________________

No more than ten minutes later you were parked back at the same frat house you had been at the week prior and the mere thought of it made you sick. However, you didn’t know how much longer you could stay in Shawn’s jeep where he was stealing glances at you every five seconds and trying to annoy you in every way possible. He’d find every way possible to try and touch you in some way, whether it was a poke in the face or moving a strand of hair behind your ear, and constantly make comments that you wanted to laugh at, but wouldn’t be caught dead showing him that. So the second he parked you were already out of the car, breathing in a deep breath of clean air to make sure the scent of Shawn that was so heavy in his jeep would leave your senses. “Wow, was the drive that bad that you’re so eager to leave?”

You were praying with every ounce of your body that Shawn couldn’t see the blush on your face when he made eye contact on with you that teasing smile on his face, but the way Natalie snickered as she got out of the back of the jeep told you that she definitely knew. “No, I just get claustrophobic easily, that’s all.”

“Mhm.” Shawn looked at you, obviously not believing your excuse, but still motioning you towards the front door nonetheless. There was already a fair amount of people inside, at least enough to make you cringe at the thought of being there. Shawn had a light hold on your arm before leaning into your ear to make sure that you heard him, “I’m going to go get us some drinks. What do you want?”

“I don’t care, you can pick. Just please no shots of anything.”

“Ok, I’ll be back.”

Natalie and Connor were already god knows where, so you were left standing in the main foyer of the frat house, holding your arms around yourself while you looked around awkwardly, waiting for Shawn to return. You felt the familiar feeling of nervousness creeping up your throat and you forced yourself to focus on the smell of Shawn’s jersey and how warm it felt around you as a way to calm your rapid beating heart. He had only been gone a few minutes before someone else was approaching you, making your heart drop when you remembered what went down the last time you were here. “Hey, you wanna come dance with me?”

Hearing those words made you want to throw up, but you tried to keep your head up and your gaze unbothered while you prayed for Shawn to come back. “No thank you.”

“Well, can I go get you a drink then?”

“No, someone’s already…”

The feeling of an arm wrapping around you caused you to freeze until your nose caught onto the scent you had been unintentionally enjoying all night and you allowed yourself to relax into him. “I already got it for her. I think she’s all set, buddy.” The other guy got the hint quickly and backed away into the crowd until he was no more than a mere drop in a pool of people. “Damn, can’t even leave you alone for two seconds before you got some guy hitting on you,” Shawn laughed, but quickly stopped once he noticed the terrified look on your face. “Hey,” he placed a hand on your face to bring your eyes to his, “Did he touch you? Or hurt you?”

“No, no he didn’t, I’m still just a little shaken up from last time I guess,” you mumbled, bringing your gaze down to where your hands were engulfed in the fabric of your sweatshirt, “I’m sorry you have to keep saving me.”

“That’s understandable, it’s never a pleasant experience. And you never need to thank me, it’s just common decency.” You refused to meet his eyes again, but you heard his sigh before he gently grabbed your hand in his and handed you your drink. Your heart fluttered when he took your other hand in his grasp, the feeling of his rough calluses overwhelming your senses. “What do you say we go dance? Get your mind off of things for a little bit, let loose.”

“I don’t know Shawn, I’m not the greatest dancer…”

“You don’t have to be. I promise it will be fun.”

You knew there was a ninety-nine percent chance that you were going to embarrass yourself completely in front of him, but the way he was staring at you like it would break his heart if you said no made up your mind for you in a second. “Ok, let’s go.”

A wide smile broke out on Shawn’s face before he dragged you into the crowd, finding a spot he deemed fit for the two of you to dance in. It started out with just a simple step touch as you started to feel the rhythm of the music and allow yourself to relax as much as possible while sipping on the drink he got you. He tried to make small talk with you even over the loud music, resulting in him having to brush his lips against your ear as he spoke to you. Your heart fluttered with each movement and the alcohol you were consuming wasn’t making it any easier when he’d laugh at something you said, his bright brown eyes crinkling from his cheeks. As the night got longer and your cup became emptier, the distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller until your chest was pressed right against his. His free hand came up to naturally grasp your waist, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. On the contrary, it made your stomach do flips that you couldn’t control even if you wanted to. His face was getting close, too close for your muddled brain to do anything rational about it. You didn’t know exactly what was put in the drink (it was delicious though and you knew he would tell you if you asked), but as a light weight you were definitely feeling the effects of it, so just as his nose touched the tip of yours you pulled away, muttering in his ear about how you had to use the bathroom before running off away from the crowd.

After winding through the halls of the house and passing multiple people making out against the walls, you finally reached the bathroom where you shut the door in a hurry, allowing yourself to take a deep breath as you leaned against the counter. Your eyes lifted up to stare at your reflection in the mirror, your brain struggling to process what had just happened. Was he going to kiss you? Was this his plan all along, to get you comfortable enough around him to have you wrapped around his finger? No, that couldn’t have been it. He was so easy to talk to and seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say and what you were doing. He wouldn’t do that just to get with you, would he? Your thoughts are interrupted by a series of knocks on the door, followed by a worried voice, “Y/n? Are you ok in there?”

“Yeah! I’ll, um, I’ll be right out!” You splashed some water onto your face in an effort to calm yourself down to a degree before opening the door to be met with Shawn’s concerned face.

“I’m sorry if I rushed you. You just ran out of there so quick I was worried something happened.”

Your heart swelled at how much he seemed to care about you and you willed the heat to leave your face, “No, I’m ok. I did feel a little crowded in there, but I’m ok now, thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. What do you say we go to the kitchen for a little bit to talk in there? It usually isn’t too crowded this far into the party.” You allowed him to take your hand and lead you into the kitchen where, like he said, was completely empty besides a few people every now and then that would come to refill their glass. Most of the alcohol had been moved into various places of the house so there was no fear of a bunch of hammered students coming in and ruining the place. There was a comforting silence between the two of you for a moment, the only sound being the music that could be heard from the main room as you both leaned against the counter next to one another. “I’m glad you came to the game tonight,” Shawn broke the silence, looking at you with a sincere look in his eye, “And thanks for letting me drag you to this party.”

“I don’t think I could’ve said no to the party, you’re pretty convincing,” you admitted, downing the last sip of your drink, “You were really good tonight, too. I never told you earlier, but I couldn’t stop watching you as you played. It’s obvious why you were chosen as captain.”

Shawn let out a nervous chuckle, his own cheeks showing a hint of pink to them, “Thanks, it means a lot. Do you want another drink?”

“No, I’m ok. I get drunk easily so I think I should stop before it gets worse.” You easily learned that you were an extremely honest drunk and if the words you were saying to Shawn were any indicator, you definitely shouldn’t drink anything more.

“That’s a shame, I have a feeling that you’re fun when you’re absolutely plastered.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re already fun as it is, but it takes a while for you to open up. I think I’d get to see you at your fullest, you know what I mean? But that’s just off of my first couple impressions of you, so what do I know.” He finished off his statement by grabbing a beer from the fridge, returning to a spot much closer to you, so close that your shoulders were right up against one another. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m very comfortable around you,” you whispered, eyes falling down to his smooth, red lips.

He caught the motion of your eyes and let his do the same, his face coming just that extra inch closer to yours, “Do you think it would be ok if…”

“Y/n! We’re going home!” Natalie came barging into the kitchen, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the door.

“What? What’s going on?” you asked her, trying to tug your arm away, but her grip was strong and she was dead set on ordering an uber to get out of here as soon as possible.

“I’ll tell you when we get back.”

Your heart dropped as you looked at Shawn who looked just as confused and saddened as you. “Bye Shawn, thanks for bringing us.”

“Wait,” he muttered to himself, running towards the door before Natalie could get you out of it, “Give me your phone really quick.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.” You unlocked your phone for him and watched as he added his number into your messages, even including a silly picture of him as his contact photo that you knew you’d be laughing at later. “Text me when you’re back at your dorm, eh? Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

Looking into his eyes you saw a completely different man than the one you had yelled at on the first night you met. This one seemed vulnerable as he stared at you, as though he was putting himself bare in front of you and showing you the real him. You nodded your head, taking your phone from his hand before Natalie was pulling you towards the uber. “I promise I’ll text you.”

“Bye Y/n.” __________________________

“What was that for?!” you demanded, staring down your roommate as she fell onto her bed.

“Connor and I got into a fight.”

“I didn’t know the two of you were dating.”

“That’s the thing...we’re not.” She sighed, propping herself up against the wall, “See the thing is...we’re talking I guess, but it’s not exclusive. It’s more like a ‘talking’ so we can hook up if we want to sort of thing.”

“So what does that have to do with you dragging me out of the party.”

“Well I was making out with Tim…”

“Why were you making out with Tim?”

“Because he’s hot and I’m drunk so it was a great idea. That was until Connor saw and got all pissed because apparently I’m not allowed to do that, but he’s all over girls all the time still so I don’t see the big deal! And because I’m so drunk I was over fighting with him for the night and I’m mad so therefore we had to leave.”

“Great,” you muttered, “I was finally having a good time at a party and then you and your hook up had to mess it up.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I truly am. If there was a way to make it up to you I’d do it. But preferably when I’m sober.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal anyways,” you mumbled before you began to change into some more comfortable clothes for the night. You noticed you were still wearing Shawn’s jersey that you would ultimately have to give him back for the game, but you couldn’t help but think that you could worry about getting it to him tomorrow and maybe that would be your chance to make up for the time you lost tonight. __________________________

The light streamed in through the window of your dorm and you groaned, pushing yourself out of bed to turn off your alarm. You sighed to yourself as you got yourself up and moving for the day, even going as far as making sure that Natalie was still alive and breathing after she came home late last night from a bar before grabbing your bag to head to class. You hated your 8am class, but it was the only slot available that worked with your schedule so you simply had to man up and accept your fate. You were about halfway to your class when you heard a distant voice call out to you and you whipped your head around to meet a smiling curly haired boy running your way. “Y/n, hey,” Shawn smiled at you after finally catching up to you, “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Shawn, how have you been?” You hadn’t seen him since you had dropped his practice jersey off at the doorstep of the frat a few weeks back, but you couldn’t lie and say a part of you was hoping that you’d run into him again.

“Good, miss seeing you at the hockey games though.”

His comment made you blush and you brought your gaze to the floor so he couldn’t see your heated cheeks. “I never really went before so I wasn’t exactly planning on going anytime soon again.”

“You didn’t have a good time?” he asked with a feigned offense, big puppy dog eyes on display as he walked next to you.

“I promise I did, I just prefer to stay in my dorm and study if we’re being honest.”

“I understand,” he nodded thoughtfully, “So where are you headed?”

“English Literature, how about you?”

“Calculus, which if we’re being honest here is not my strong suit. If I don’t get at least a B on this next test they could pull me from the game. I swear I’m not dumb, I just don’t get it I guess.”

“Well, I don’t know if it means anything to you, but I had an A in that class last semester. I could help you out if you want.”

“You’d do that for me?” he asked with wide eyes, bringing you both to a halt in front of your lecture hall. “Of course I would, when’s your test?”

“Next Tuesday, could we meet on Thursday after practice?”

“Sounds perfect. Just text me the time and place.”

“I owe you a bunch.” Shawn leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your temple that left your heart fluttering before making his way over to his own class. __________________________

Thursday felt like it would never come, but there you were sitting alone inside the library at eight thirty at night, waiting for Shawn to arrive from his practice. A million thoughts were swirling through your head the longer you waited and you desperately wished he would show up to give you a distraction from your mind. You were constantly worried that he wouldn’t show up, had planned on ditching you from the start as some kind of sick joke, but that fear was diminished when he stumbled through the doors. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he breathed out, “Practice went later than expected.” A series of students shushed him for being too loud, causing a sheepish expression to grace his face, “Sorry.”

He sat his bag down next to you, sliding in close enough that you would be able to see what the other was doing while still maintaining a safe distance. “Sooo,” you broke the silence as he got his books out, “What do you want to start with?”

The rest of the time was spent discussing Shawn’s upcoming test and explaining what each concept was to the best of your ability. You could tell that he was smart, he just needed a little bit of help, so he was very easy to work with. Besides how hard it was for you to concentrate around him that was. Whenever he leaned in to peer over your work a little more, your heart beat increased rapidly and you held your breath until he moved away again. You couldn’t tell if he was aware of your behaviors, but he seemed extremely unfazed, always dazzling you a bright smile after something made sense to him. It was adorable to you when his eyes would furrow a little bit while he was working and the proud glow on his face when he got a problem right.

Time seemed to go by quick with all the little jokes he was making and soon enough it was eleven at night and the library was beginning to close down. “Guess we should be heading out then,” Shawn laughed, “Unless you plan on sleeping in here tonight.”

“No, not exactly. Was kind of looking forward to my bed if I’m being honest.” A chuckle of your own escaped your lips as you packed up your bag alongside him.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, my car isn’t on campus. I just walked.”

“Well I hope you weren’t planning on walking back too.”

“What other choice do I have?”

Shawn raised an eyebrow at you, “Seriously? You’re going to ask that when I’m literally right here.”

“I’m not going to ask you to drive me home, Shawn.”

“Good thing you’re not asking me, I’m telling you. Now come on, my jeep is right out here.” You didn’t protest this time, knowing he wouldn’t back down from his offer, and instead followed him out to that black jeep you vividly remember from your last trip in it.

The ride back to your dorm was significantly quieter than what your previous encounters with Shawn had been besides the quiet music playing in the background. By the time he had pulled in front of your building, there were hardly any cars to be seen around and all of the students were already inside. Shawn turned his body to face you, “Thanks for the help tonight, I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Good luck on your test next week, I know you’ll do great, but you can still text me if you want to meet up again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave you a kind smile when you thanked him for the ride before you opened the door to the brisk night air. “Y/n wait…”

“What?”

“I know you’re not really into parties but…,” his words trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “There’s this movie night thing at the frat Saturday night and all of the guys are expected to bring a date. Do you maybe wanna come with me?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “You want me to be your date?”

“Yeah, if you want to be.” Even in the darkness you could see the way his cheeks reddened and he failed to look you in the eye.

“I’d love to go,” you told him truthfully and you couldn’t help but smile with him when his face lit up at your words.

“Really?! That’s, that’s great! You’re supposed to wear your pajamas by the way so I hope that’s ok with you.”

“Perfectly fine with me. Just text me the time later.”

“I will. Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Shawn.” He watched you walk into your building with a giddy smile on his face before he drove back to his frat for a sleep that he hoped included dreams of you. __________________________

“What are you getting all dolled up for?”

You look over from where you’re doing your hair to see Natalie laying on her bed staring at you with curious eyes. “I’m going to movie night with Shawn.”

“You’re going to movie night with Shawn?!” Natalie exclaimed, her eyes practically bursting out of her head.

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him as his date.” You tried to keep your calm in front of her and not show how excited you truly were, but your smile was fighting to break free on your face.

“Is he picking you up?”

“No, I’m probably just going to walk or maybe get an uber.”

“Walk? Honey, no. Connor is picking me up, I’ll just text him and ask if he can drive you, too.”

“You don’t need to do that…”

“Nonsense, there’s no reason for you to walk when I’m literally driving to the same place.” Natalie quickly grabbed her phone to text something to Connor before getting up out of bed to walk over and fluff your finally curled hair.

“What’s going on with you and Connor anyways?”

“Oh, we’re just friends with benefits for now,” Natalie said dreamly, her hands separating your curls to make them more natural as she spoke, “But we decided that we’re going to be exclusive. No more arguments about that I guess.” You nodded your head thoughtfully, carefully examining your appearance in the mirror. “Why are you getting ready so early? We don’t have to leave for another two hours.”

“I know, but I thought you’d have to use the curler and mirror, too, so I figured I’d get done early so you could have enough room to do everything.”

“You’re the sweetest ever,” she told you, kissing the top of your head making you scrunch your nose. “Do you want me to do your makeup for you?”

“I’m not sure, I just want to do something natural.” You examined your face with much criticism, trying to decide what you wanted to do to hopefully make you look more appealing to Shawn. You didn’t just think that did you? You’re not really trying to impress Shawn tonight, right? The butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise and you cursed yourself for the thoughts that were taking over your head.

“I can do that,” Nat responded quickly, “Easy. Now what I’m concerned about is what you’re wearing tonight.”

“I was planning on wearing some sweatpants and a tank top or maybe one of my patching pajama tops and bottoms. I wasn’t sure yet.”

“See this is where we’re going to have an issue. Don’t you want to wear something a bit more revealing? Want to impress Shawn a little bit? I have a slip you can borrow if you want or…”

“No, I’m all set, I just want to be comfortable. I appreciate the concern, but you know it’s not me to wear something like that out in public. It makes me uneasy.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just focus on getting your makeup looking absolutely perfect just like you.” __________________________

Connor pulled up to the frat house before unlocking the car door for you and slinging an arm around Natalie’s seat to look back at you, “Why don’t you go in and meet up with Shawn, we’ll be in in one second.” You gave him a forced smile and a small thank you as Natalie giggled and you rolled your eyes the second you got out, happy to finally be away from their never ending teasing of one another. You made your way up to the door of the frat and knocked loud enough to be heard, transferring your weight back and forth out of nervousness. The door opened not long after revealing your date for the night looking as cozy as ever in a pair of grey sweatpants and a cotton white t-shirt. His eyes subtly looked you up and down with a smile on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed out, letting yourself admire him the way he was you.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you look extremely comfy and nice as well.”

“Why thank you, I like the plaid.” You looked down at your plaid sleep pants and tighter fitted grey long sleeve you had on top, your cheeks blushing red at his comment.

“I know I probably am not dressed up like a lot of the other girls, but I just wanted to be comfortable…”

“Stop it, I think you look amazing. Now come inside, I already have a spot for us.” You followed him through the frat house until you came into the kitchen that looked a little different now that it wasn’t filled to the brim with alcohol. “Do you want any hot chocolate? Or tea?”

“I’ll have hot chocolate please.”

“Good choice, good choice,” he chuckled, pouring some of the boiling water into two mugs. “You know, I’m kinda surprised Natalie didn’t force you to wear some form of lingerie like a lot of the girls are.”

“She tried to convince me to, but I didn’t want to. I’m just as surprised as you are though that she let me get away with this.”

“Well, I think it’s better that you came here comfortable rather than wearing any of that.” He handed you your cup, warning you of how hot it was. “Speaking of Natalie, where are her and Connor?”

“Still in the car, they kicked me out right when we got here.”

“Typical,” Shawn snorted before making his way into the living room with you trailing behind him. The room was already about half the way full with couples, if you could even call them that, and the room had a much cozier vibe than what you had previously seen it as. There were blankets everywhere and snacks piled up onto all of the tables. There were a few guys and girls that were obviously not too interested in their date and were mingling with other people instead and some that were extremely interested in their date to the point where it was almost obnoxious. “I got us the seat in the corner by the table. You can put your mug there if you want and those blankets that are there are ours, too. I’m just going to run to the bathroom quickly so you can wait there until I come back or you can go somewhere else.” He kissed your cheek lightly, leaving you with a heated face before he left you alone in the room. You swore you could feel the hard stares of the breathtaking girls around you and you sank yourself down into the couch, desperately wishing Shawn hadn’t left you here by yourself.

You sat there for almost ten minutes before you had decided that you were finished being the target for the judgemental looks and whispers from those around you, peeling yourself out of your spot before heading towards what you were praying was the bathrooms in hopes of running into Shawn on the way. Just as you rounded the corner you could faintly make out a female voice and you snuck your head around only to be met with a sight that made your heart drop. There she was, the drop dead gorgeous head cheerleader you knew had been in Shawn’s sheets multiple times before, with her hand on your date’s chest, that mischievous glint in her eyes that was laced with lust. Shawn’s hands were wrapped around her wrists and although you couldn’t hear their words, you couldn’t help but feel betrayed at the whole situation. Here you are, being made a fool of in front of all of these people who have always seemed to despise you from the start. You finally started letting your guard down for Shawn and what do you get in return? A stabbing pain in your heart. Tears began prickling in your eyes before you turned straight on your heels to head out of the frat without a second thought in your mind.

Just as you were about to reach the door, it opened for you, Natalie and Connor entering with giddy smiles on their faces. But at the sight of you, Natalie’s smile dropped, “Hun, what happened?”

“Nothing, I think I might head out.”

“What?” She made a signal to Connor so that he’d leave the two of you alone and he agreed, whispering something in her ear before moving past you. “Ok, now tell me what happened. You were so happy about coming tonight!” With tears threatening to fall down your face, you told her exactly what you saw from the moment you stepped into the house and before you knew it, you were encased in her arms, her hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m so sorry, baby. He doesn’t deserve you if he’s going to let her get away with that.”

“Am I stupid to be so affected by this?”

“No, that was a dick move on his part and you are allowed to feel upset about it. What we’re not going to do though is leave, you hear me? Two can play at this game.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meannn, let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. Come on, follow me.” She wiped underneath your eyes before leading you back into the living room towards the couch on the opposite side. Two guys you recognized from the frat were sitting there alone and when you noticed Natalie walking over to them confidently, your heart stopped.

“Nat, what are we doing?”

“Just trust me on this...Hey guys!” The two guys looked up at the sound of her voice, a heavy smirk on both of their lips. “You got any extra room for a little bit?”

“Be my guest,” the blonde one responded and Natalie wasted no time in pushing you to sit next to them.

You stumbled slightly onto the couch, but recovered quickly, sending a light wave to the guys, “Hi.”

They both greeted you back with a smile, leaving Natalie to be quite satisfied as she whispered in your ear, “Be back soon,” and then she was gone.

You weren’t close enough to the guys that it would be considered dangerous to you, but you were definitely closer than you would usually be with some strangers that you had literally just met. The conversation flowed easily between the three of you, not as easily as it did between you and Shawn though, and you found yourself constantly glancing towards the entryway in case he decided to make an appearance. Just as one of the frat members announced that the movie was starting in five minutes Shawn made his way into the living room, his eyes spotting you immediately. You could see his jaw clench from the corner of your eye and the way his eyes hardened was not easy to miss. This only made you up the antics a little more, with a hand moving to the shoulder of the guy closest to you before the sound of your name being called from across the room caught your attention, as well as everyone else’s in the room. You looked over to see Shawn staring at you coldly, his head nodding at the seat he had for you as a signal for you to come back. “Thanks for the seat boys, but I better be heading back,” you told them with a cheeky smile that they returned to you before heading over towards Shawn. You could feel the strong gaze of the other couples and you desperately wished that you could curl in on yourself and disappear. Once you were close enough to him he pulled you down harshly into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and whispering in your ear, “What the hell were you doing over there?”

You wriggled out of his arms, but still laid next to him, allowing him to bring the blanket up and over you with his arm around you. “I was making some new friends to keep me company since you were so busy with Vanessa when you were supposed to be just using the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, “Listen, I don’t know what you saw, but…”

“I don’t want to hear it Shawn, I just want to watch the movie and leave.”

“No, I want you to listen to me because I can see how you might have taken this the wrong way.”

“Was there a right way to take it?” you whispered back angrily, feeling his arm tighten around you so that he could bring his mouth closer to your ear.

“Not from your point of view, but I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. I haven’t been answering her texts for the last two months and threatened to block her last week and she was all butthurt about it, saying that she wanted things to go back to when she could call me for a booty call whenever she felt like it. And I don’t want that anymore. I’ve got my eye on someone right now and I wouldn’t mess up my chance with her like that.”

“If you have your eye on someone then why didn’t you bring her tonight?”

“I did.” You looked up at him as the lights were turned off and you caught a glimpse of his eyes before he was facing the screen and pulling you closer to his chest. You snuggled into him and wrapped your arm around his body too, leaving the both of you with graceful smiles on your faces. __________________________

Of course the guys had picked a scary movie for the night, causing you to squeeze Shawn a little tighter at every jump scare. He didn’t mind though, it only gave him an excuse to pull you closer to him and press light, comforting kisses into your hair. Somewhere between the halfway point of the movie when you tucked your head into Shawn’s chest at a particularly frightening scene and the end of the movie, you found yourself dozing off, eventually falling into a light slumber cuddled up against him. The even beating of his heart lulled you to sleep until you felt him shaking you softly, whispering your name into your ear. “Hey, the movie’s over.”

“Oh,” you sat up and tried to comb back your slightly messed up hair, seeing the other couples retreat to their respective rooms, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be, you look cute when you’re comfy.” His words caused your cheeks to heat up and you situated yourself to try and hide your face from him. “Are you ready to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, I should probably head out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m ready to fall back asleep...which means that I need to go home so I can go to sleep in my bed.” You looked back at him with furrowed brows that matched his.

“Y/n, it’s two in the morning, why don’t you just stay here. No one else is leaving.”

“You don’t have a spare room though…”

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll sleep on the floor if you feel too uncomfortable.”

“No Shawn, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. If you’re so adamant about me staying then we might as well share it.”

“Are you sure you’re ok with that?”

“I’m a big girl, Shawn, I think I can handle sleeping in a bed with you for one night.”

Shawn let out a laugh that was music to your ears before extending a hand to you that you gladly accepted. His hand engulfed yours perfectly and you stumbled as he pulled you up off the couch because you were too busy trying to memorize the feeling of his hand in yours. “Careful there, honey,” his sweet voice drawed out, “You’re even more tired than I thought. Can hardly stand on two feet.” He escorted you hand in hand to his bedroom, which was much cleaner than you would have imagined. There were a couple guitars on stands, a piano in the corner, some hockey gear half stuffed into a bag on the floor, all things that perfectly described Shawn to you. He slid into his bed, adjusting himself under the covers before looking at you with a boyish grin and beckoning you towards him. You sat down next to him, playing with your hands awkwardly. “You ok?” You nodded your head. “I can put up a pillow barrier if you want, I have to admit I tend to be a cuddler.”

You giggled, imagining you waking up to find him snuggled up against a pillow between the two of you. “It’s ok, I don’t think we need a pillow barrier.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned off the light, getting even more comfortable in his bed and turning towards the wall. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Shawn.” __________________________

The deep scent of oak and cinnamon should have woken you up. The heavy weight slung across your stomach should have woken you up. The unusual heat that was spreading across your back should have woken you up. But instead, they all just kept you in a peaceful slumber as the morning light streamed in through the window.

Shawn was the first to awake. Breathing in your comforting scent, he squeezed you a little tighter, not quite realizing what he was doing. The moment you pushed back into him in an effort to get impossibly closer to him his senses became wide awake, suddenly making him on high alert to how close you were to him. He couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if you woke up to find the two of you like this, but when he tried to untangle himself from you and you subconsciously gripped his arm tighter, pulling him back to you, he gave up the fight and let himself get lost in the moment. Against his better judgment he placed his lips to your hair, leaving feathery kisses in their wake. Your body began to move slowly as you came to a consciousness, but Shawn continued to kiss down your neck until he finished with a soft one on your shoulder. “Good morning,” he rasped, looking at you through his lashes.

“Good morning.” The second you came to a full realization of what was happening your body froze, not quite able to process the exact situation. The immense heat that was radiating off of him was too soothing for you to resist though and soon your body fell slack against his just as it was while you were asleep.

“How’d you sleep?” Shawn asked, tracing his finger across your cheek bone.

“Like a baby.”

“Good to hear.” His stomach rumbled, making a laugh escape out of him, “And that is good to hear too, I guess. You want to go get some breakfast.”

Deep inside you wanted to say no and selfishly keep him close to you all morning long, “That sounds perfect.”

Your body became cold the second he left your side and you shivered slightly from the temperature change. “You ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” you lied, grabbing his hand to help you out of bed. He pulled your body close to his, looking at you deeply with those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“Were you uncomfortable this morning?”

“No,” you stuttered, feeling small as he towered over you even if you didn’t find him intimidating, if anything the words coming out of his mouth were more intimidating than him.

“Why not?”

His body came closer to you with each word until you were backed up against the wall, his chest pressing against yours. “What?”

“I asked you why you weren’t uncomfortable.” His face was so close to you that you could see every last detail of his skin, including a scar on his cheek that you didn’t happen to notice before, but made him look all the more endearing to you.

“Because I trust you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

You could tell by the way that his eyebrow quirked up that he didn’t believe your wavering voice, “Are you telling me the truth? Because I want to know if you feel the same way about me that I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I made it quite obvious,” he chuckled, “I really, really like you, Y/n. I was hoping maybe this morning was a sign that you felt the same way…”

“It was,” you breathed out quickly, not wanting this moment to fade away. “I like you too, Shawn.”

His lips fanned over yours and your breath hitched in your throat, desperately waiting for him to move the final inch. “I’m not going to kiss you,” he told you, watching the light in your eyes dim and cast down to the ground, “Hey, look at me.” Shawn grabbed your chin gently, pulling your eyes back up to his, “It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because it feels wrong to do it without going on a date first. You understand?” You nodded your head sadly, making him let out a quiet laugh, “But I would like to take you out on a date if you’d let me.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Perfect,” he leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose, “Now let’s go down and eat breakfast. I’m absolutely starving.” __________________________

Are you free Tuesday night? Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to ask you

The message came through the second you stepped through the door to your dorm room. Natalie and Connor had woken up later than you and Shawn, so Shawn had offered to drive you home instead. You looked out your small window that happened to be facing the street and were met with his jeep still parked next to the curb. His eyes met yours causing the two of you to smile and you could practically hear his laugh from three floors up.

I’m free all night

Perfect, see you then I’ll pick you up x

Can’t wait x __________________________

The rest of the weekend seemed to drag on until your classes came again on Monday to distract your mind from the next day. It didn’t help that you and Shawn were texting almost every second of the day since you two had parted, only adding to your anticipation.

After seeming as though it would never arrive, Tuesday night came upon you, bringing you back to the same chair this all started with. Natalie was over the moon when you told her about your date, immediately wanting to know everything about it and what outfit you were planning on wearing. She had you propped up in what she called her “makeup chair” making sure your makeup and hair were the best they had ever looked. You had chosen a simple sweater and leggings, hoping that you looked nice enough while still managing to stay warm and comfortable. Shawn hadn’t told you where you were going yet, stating that it had to be kept a surprise, so you worked with what you had in order to have an appropriate outfit.

At six o’clock sharp Shawn was waiting outside, leaning against his jeep on his phone was a bouquet of flowers in one hand. His eyes flickered to the door anytime he heard a noise, but at the sight of you he stood up straight, hands pocketing his phone before he was headed straight towards you. “Hey, you look beautiful.”

“And you look as handsome as always.”

A blush formed on his cheeks at your words and he handed you the flowers bashfully, ducking his head down to avoid your gaze. “These are for you.”

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.” He sent you a bright smile as he took your hand to lead you around the car, opening the door for you to slide inside.

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” you asked as soon as he slid into the driver's seat.

“Not yet, gotta keep the suspense up,” he teased, his hand coming up to lace his fingers with yours on the center console. “I hope you’re hungry though.”

“If we’re being honest I’m always hungry.”

“Then this is going to work out great.” The ride was short and before you knew it you were turning into a parking lot of a small old-fashioned diner a few minutes off of campus. Shawn parked the car, running around the jeep quickly to open the door for you. You smiled at his kind gesture and took his outstretched hand for you to walk inside together.

The two of you were sat inside of a booth across from each other as you scanned the menus. Shawn hardly looked at his before he was nodding his head and leaning back in his seat to look at you, “Got any idea of what you’re getting?”

“Um, not really. Have you been here before?”

“More times than I can remember. I usually go here after practice late at night because it’s open until like three in the morning.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Well I always get the cheeseburger with no tomato, a chocolate milkshake, and extra fries…”

“Extra fries? You eat that many fries?”

Shawn laughed, a wide smile forming on his face, “Most of the time yes, but if I don’t I just bring them back to the frat house. They’re always gone a couple seconds after I set them down.”

“Hmm, I can't decide if I want a chocolate shake like you or an oreo one. What do you think?”

“I think you should get an oreo one and then we can share them both.” You looked over your menu at him with a small smile, watching his eyes light up as he returned your expression.

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” The waitress came over and you ordered the same thing as Shawn, except with tomatoes, different shake, and of course, no extra fries. Once your milkshakes came out, he requested two extra straws, winking at you as he slid them in.

“So,” he began, sipping on his chocolate milkshake, “Do you think you’re going to come to more hockey games this season?”

“I’m not sure, I guess I’d need a good reason to go,” you smirked at him, taking a sip of yours as well.

“I’m pretty sure I could give you a good reason.” He looked around to make sure no one was looking, but fortunately you two were the only ones in there besides another couple on the other side. Shawn grabbed your hand and leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. Your heart started beating faster until his lips were right against yours, but you faltered when he froze. The look in his eyes was pleading with you to let him continue so you took control instead, closing the small gap between the two of you. His free hand cradled your cheek as his lips moved with yours, keeping you close to him. It was short and innocent, but it was enough to leave your head spinning and heart pounding. Your lips chased his once he moved back, desperately wanting to feel the softness of them on yours once again, causing him to laugh with a smile before giving you a peck to satisfy you. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I doubt it was that long,” you mumbled, eyes focusing on where his thumb was rubbing the top of your hand.

“What makes you say that?”

“No guy has ever really been into me before.”

“I think that’s a lie. Besides, I’ve wanted that since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He brought your hand to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on it, “You would’ve noticed if your head wasn’t stuck in a book.”

“Didn’t know it was bad to try to be at the top of my class.”

“It isn’t. I think it’s great that you’re at the top of the class list. Now you’re on the top of two lists.”

“Two lists?” you asked, watching as he smiled and leaned forward to try to steal another kiss.

“Yeah, the school’s and mine.”

844 notes · View notes

when-they-write-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

SterekWeek2020: Day Six (Blue Moon)

“First of all,” Stiles said, pointing his fork at the red-haired banshee across from him. “The chances of Derek ever falling in love with me are like, once in a blue moon. Second of all, it’s just a quick college party to convince my college friends that I’m not single and lonely!”

“But you are single and lonely,” Lydia said, slicing delicately into her chicken as she ignored the fork in her face. “And there’s no way Derek is going to say yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m fairly sure,” Lydia said, finally glancing up. “And I’m sorry I can’t go, Stiles. I have a meeting with a professor who decided my paper wasn’t worth an A, and he’s going to regret that decision immensely.”

“On a Friday night?” Stiles frowned. “What, are you using dinner as a cover for an interrogation or something?”

“That’s precisely what it is.”

Stiles blinked, then rolled his eyes. “You can be terrifying sometimes.”

“That is the point.”

“Come on, Lyds,” Stiles said, jabbing his fork into his food, metal screeching against the plate. That earned a few glances from the other people in the relatively-cheap restaurant Stiles had picked out for his and Lydia’s reunion, but he didn’t really care. He was desperate here. “If Derek says no, then I have to go alone. And then my roommate will try to set me up with his douchey best friend and that guy gives me the creeps.”

“Then just say no.”

“And risk pissing my roommate off? Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Lydia sighed, setting down her utensils and reaching across the table, catching Stiles’s hand and giving a small squeeze. He hated how reassuring that was. “Why don’t you actually ask Derek before you freak out? It’s been a while since he’s visited anyway.”

“I’m not even that far away,” Stiles grumbled. He’d like to say he wasn’t hurt that Derek never came by Stanford to check-in, but that would be a total lie.

Even the betas visited more often, though it was usually just to complain about their lives or steal his clothes. But still, they came. Scott came. Stiles’s dad and Lydia came.

But Derek had only been by like, twice in the last semester. Sometimes, Stiles wondered if he was the man’s least favorite pack member.

Okay, he didn’t have to wonder.

Sighing, he poked at his food again, appetite long since gone. He’d ask Scott to go with him if the boy wasn’t basically his brother and a terrible actor. And Stiles had already decided he’d never ask the betas, because he didn’t need that kind of blackmail.

But Stiles had gone throughout his entire first year of college staying far away from everyone else. At first, it had been a supernatural thing. He had trust issues, okay? But then it was just the hassle of getting out there and yeah, Stiles ended up having one or two hookups along the way, but that’s all they were. Hookups.

And now the friends he had made were starting to get pushy. So, Lydia had been Stiles’s first choice, and Derek was his saving grace.

Dammit if that wasn’t a sentence he’d never thought he’d have to say out loud.

On a scale from one to ten about scared for his well being, asking Derek Hale to fake date him for a night was right up there at an eleven.

Stiles had long since come to terms with the fact that his hopeless pining was just that. Hopeless pining. He could totally look at Derek without getting butterflies now, but that’s just because he had accepted his fate.

This was crossing a line that Stiles had told himself he would never cross. And damn, if he wasn’t silently panicking.

Derek, on the other hand, just looked bored. “What did you want, Stiles?”

For a long moment, Stiles stayed silent. He’d practiced this in the mirror at least a dozen times, trying to imagine the different ways that Derek could-- would-- say no. And it really wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It wasn’t like Stiles was baring his soul to the werewolf or anything. He was just asking for a small favor.

A small, totally platonic favor.

“Stiles.”

“O- oh,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. “Right. I need something from you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles winced. He was already going off script and this was so not going to end well.

“Not like that,” he said, then winced again. “Actually, it’s exactly like that. See, I might have told a few friends that I was seeing someone to get them off my back about dating. But now I’m expected to have a date for some upcoming party.”

Derek’s face remained completely blank. Stiles hated him a little bit for that.

“Lydia can’t come, though.”

“Okay.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, burying his face in his hands. Why Derek? Why did his saving grace have to be Derek? “Yeah, okay. And I need you to come instead, dude.”

The words were said into his hands and for a long moment, the only sound was the rest of the cafe around them. Stiles kept his face hidden until he felt like it was safe, peering through his fingers at the werewolf to see that Derek’s expression hadn’t really changed much.

A long moment passed before Derek grunted. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No,” Derek said, taking a long, finishing drink of his coffee and setting it back on the table. The man started to stand and Stiles panicked, jumping to his feet so fast, the table nearly toppled over.

“Dude, hold up, you can’t just say no and leave!”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek said, still looking unbothered. He slipped a ten out of his wallet and set it on the table, covering both of their drinks before turning away, heading toward the door.

Stiles was almost too shocked to chase after the man.

“Derek, Derek, wait!”

He caught the man on the sidewalk and Derek sighed, turning around with a tight expression. Like Stiles was being the annoying stubborn one here. “I’m not pretending to be your date, Stiles.”

“It’s just for one night!”

“Why don’t you get an actual one?”

“Because I—” Stiles blinked, then glared. “Because I don’t want one, asshole. I just want to avoid a terrible situation with my roommate’s best friend.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles did his best not to flush red at that, ducking his head.

“Look, it’s one night. It’s not like you ever to come by Stanford to hang out or anything anyway. No one will even know it’s a lie. Just think of it like a miniature reunion that might involve straight-up lying to my friends one or two times!”

“And these people are really your friends?”

“I mean,” Stiles said, glancing back up. “They’re normal, you know? They’re not pack, of course, but it’s kind of nice sometimes. To be around normal people.”

Derek’s jaw tightened at that and for a moment, Stiles was worried he’d offended the man. But after a long-suffering second of silence, Derek stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “Fine, one night. But I’m never doing anything like this again.”

Stiles grinned, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes, dude! Thank you!”

Derek just looked completely done with everything. Holding himself back from doing something stupid like hugging the man, Stiles patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“I’ll be in touch then, Sourwolf. The party is this weekend, so I’m expecting both the leather jacket and Camaro. I get to arrive in style!”

“You’ll take what you get, Stiles.”

“Right, right,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. “See you Friday, dude!”

He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t really expected one. Turning away before Derek could change his mind, Stiles hurried back down the street. And he could’ve sworn he felt the man’s gaze burning into his back.

Stiles’s heart was still slamming against his chest when he turned the corner. Because he couldn’t believe that had actually gone well. Derek Hale was his fake date in less than three days.

Stiles hated himself a little bit for how excited he was.

His roommate left for the party first, still talking up his friend who was ‘excited to see how things went tonight’ to which Stiles put on his best smile and just nodded.

There were a few things about Derek literally being the scariest person Stiles had ever met that might work to his favor. Well, maybe not the scariest person, but Derek could most certainly look terrifying when he wanted to. And Stiles was going to use that to his advantage tonight.

He’d texted Derek a few times over the week, but the man had never texted him back except for one reply that was a simple ‘OK’ to all the messages that Stiles had sent earlier.

And that totally wasn’t infuriating.

Look, Stiles knew this wasn’t an actual date. And he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking this could ever go somewhere; his life wasn’t a movie. Yeah, Stiles had been crushing on Derek since he was a sixteen-year-old hyperactive teenager, but he also knew Derek would never feel the same.

Because Derek Hale was… well, Derek Hale. And Stiles was Stiles.

A lot of things had changed over the years and a lot of things hadn’t. And the things between them would never be anything different.

Stiles still hesitated a moment too long in his dorm room when Derek texted ‘here’. He totally didn’t almost have a panic attack, but things would have been so much easier if it was Lydia coming with him tonight instead of Derek.

Dammit.

Derek was leaning against the passenger side of the Camaro when Stiles got outside, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. And Stiles hated himself for the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man— because could he never wear jeans that actually fit? And Derek Hale in a v-neck should be a literal crime.

The man did not have any rights to be such a sexy… sex god. Fuck.

Stiles tried to calm himself down as he approached the Camaro. He was aware enough of the other people in the parking lot eyeing where Derek stood, cursing at the pang of jealousy he felt at that. Because he was totally over Derek Hale, remember?

Butterflies weren’t a thing when he looked at the werewolf anymore.

“Okay, dude,” Stiles said, pausing in front of the car. “So you came through. Leather jacket, Camaro, and everything. Should I be pleased or worried?”

“You should be thankful,” Derek said, opening the door. Stiles raised an eyebrow and the man rolled his eyes, leaving it open as he moved back around the car to the driver’s side. “I’m the fake date, right? Might as well have some manners.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done to Derek Hale?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, eyes turning a little red. Stiles swallowed hard and ducked down into the passenger’s seat.

Fucking Derek Hale.

Stiles had made a plan, though. He wasn’t staying at this party any longer than necessary and he was totally using Derek to scare off anyone that dared try to make a move. Because Stiles was doing this for a reason, okay? He missed his privacy. He also— almost— missed the days when he suspected everyone of being some kind of supernatural threat, sicing the betas on anyone he found suspicious.

He always came up empty-handed.

Maybe you just miss Beacon Hills, Scott had told him at one point. And Stiles had proceeded to laugh his ass off for the rest of the day.

Because missing Beacon Hills? Him? There was a threat nearly every other week back home, and Stiles totally didn’t miss running for his life through the preserve more often than not. No, he didn’t miss any of that at all.

Because there was his dad, yeah. But the Sheriff still came to visit when he could— and so did the pack. So honestly, Stiles absolutely had nothing to miss.

Nothing at all.

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He didn’t even realize they’d arrived until the faint sound of music reached his ears and then he silently cursed himself for zoning, meeting Derek's curious gaze.

“Right,” Stiles said, forcing a grin. “We’ll be in and out, I promise.”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends?”

“Uh, do you?”

He could’ve sworn the man turned a little red at that. But it was probably just his imagination. Derek mumbled something intelligible and climbed out of the car, and Stiles hesitated for only a moment longer before following.

He’d been to enough college parties so far that he wasn’t terribly overwhelmed right away. Granted, this was the first one before the next semester, so there were a lot more people than he was used to, but Stiles didn’t have anything against crowds. Or, anything too much. It wasn’t like he stuck next to Derek’s side as his social anxiety slowly kicked in or whatever.

Except then, as if the man could read his mind, one arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist. Startling, Stiles shot Derek a confused look and the man only smirked a little before turning his gaze back to the rest of the party.

Stiles hated his treacherous heart skipping yet another beat.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Introduce me.”

Once more, Stiles gave him an open-mouthed look. Derek raised an expectant eyebrow, nodding to the rest of the room, and Stiles took a moment to regain his bearings. Then, shaking his head, he started toward the nearest familiar face.

The girl’s eyes snapped when they were less than a few feet away. Or, well, her eyes snapped to Derek, widening for a moment before fixing on Stiles. “Stiles, hey!”

Stiles grinned, fully aware of Derek’s arm still around his waist. He was tempted to glance over and gauge the man’s expression but forced his eyes to stay forward, trying to remain as relaxed as possible.

“Meg, this is Derek. Derek, this is Meg.”

This time, he did glance over. And the smile on Derek’s face was terrifyingly normal. “It’s nice to meet you, Meg.”

Meg’s smile was wide as she stayed focused on Derek’s face for a moment too long. But Stiles supposed he really couldn’t blame her as he continued to stare too, wondering when the hell Derek Hale had such a disarming smile?

Searching his brain, Stiles tried to remember the last time he’d seen Derek smile. And it left him feeling a little empty when he realized he couldn’t.

“Stiles?”

Blinking a few times, Stiles came snapping back to reality. The smile on Derek’s face had faded a little and he looked more intrigued than anything else now.

Stiles was pretty sure he blushed as he forced himself to look away. “Sorry,” he said, looking back at Meg. “Derek is a… friend of mine.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend?”

“Uh—”

“New boyfriend,” Derek said, before Stiles could mess everything up. Though he might still have, jolting a little bit and giving Derek a bewildered stare.

The man returned his look with an easy smirk. Shaking his head, Stiles tore his gaze away. “Yeah,” he said, words sticking a little. “Boyfriend.”

He didn’t even know how to begin approaching any of this. But Meg just nodded, still smiling, and Stiles stayed stuck in his head for a moment longer before they were moving along again, toward yet another voice calling his name.

Derek smiled the entire time. Through every friend, every stranger. The man made polite small talk and only removed his arm from around Stiles’s waist to shake a hand or readjust, always pulling Stiles right back in seconds later.

There were a few times Stiles looked down into his drink and wondered faintly if it was spiked— and all of this was just some kind of massive hallucination.

He didn’t know how to deal with what was happening.

See, when he’d imagined tonight, staying up for hours panicking, he’d imagined it being awkward as hell. Sometimes, he worried Derek might rip his throat out if he said the wrong thing. In front of everyone would be how Stiles Stilinski went.

But it was all so normal. All so painfully normal that Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Yo, Stiles!”

He startled so hard, Derek glanced over in concern. But Stiles didn’t have a chance to say anything before his roommate was moving across the room, cup in hand with another guy at his side— one with an athletic build and the type of expression that reminded Stiles a little too much of Jackson.

He shuddered at that thought. “Hey, Vincent.”

“This is Brad,” Vincent said, nudging his friend in the ribs. Brad grinned and raised his cup, eyes raking up and down where Stiles stood. His skin crawled a little bit at that and, arm still circled around his waist, he was surprised to feel Derek’s grip tighten.

“Uh, yeah, right. Nice to meet you, Brad.”

“And this is?” Brad said, jerking his head toward Derek. When Stiles glanced over, Derek’s eyes were hard and his lips were pressed tightly together. And there was that type of murderous expression that Stiles had dragged the werewolf here for in the first place.

“This is Derek,” Stiles said, when it was clear Derek wasn’t going to say anything. Which was another first for the night.

Vincent looked a bit uncomfortable, offering a small nod. Brad almost looked nervous too, but he kept his chin up, that cocky smile slowly making its way back onto his face as the seconds ticked past.

“So, Stiles,” he said, turning his shoulder toward Derek. That’s when Stiles heard the first sound of a growl. “What are you doing after this?”

“Uh,” Stiles hesitated for a second. “I think we might just head back to the dorm.”

“We?”

“Derek and I.”

Brad’s smile tightened a fraction. He glanced back at Derek for only a second before scoffing. “Seriously?”

Stiles blinked. But before he could say a word, Vincent stepped in.

“There’s another party going on just down the street that we were going to check out,” he said, glancing sideways at his friend. Brad shrugged. “Then we’re gonna hit the bar on 18th street. You should come.”

Derek’s grip was tight enough that it was starting to hurt now. Stiles shifted, nudging the man in the side with his elbow. He could still swear he could hear the slightest growl coming from Derek’s throat— which wouldn’t prove to be good for anyone.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. Because that wasn’t the plan. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere after the party except back to his dorm. “I think we might call it a night soon.”

“Lame,” Brad muttered, low enough that Stiles barely caught it. But Derek definitely growled this time and Brad looked at him in surprise. Then the boy’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

Stiles’s heart stopped and he whipped sideways, meeting Derek’s gaze. And yep, that was a hint of red in Derek’s usually grey-green eyes. Vincent started to follow his friend’s gaze too but before he could, Stiles stepped between them, taking both of Derek’s hands.

“Dude,” he hissed, alarm rising in his throat. “What are you doing?”

Derek just clenched his jaw, lowering his eyes to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, Stiles chuckled nervously and situated himself so he was still standing as Derek’s only barrier.

“We’re just gonna go now. Bad, uh, dinner earlier.”

“What?”

“See you later, Vinc.”

Before either Stiles’s roommate or his douche of a best friend could say anything, Stiles steered Derek away. The party had worn down some and he was able to make it to the front door without incident, ducking past a few people crowded around it and pulling Derek out into the night.

The moment they were across the lawn and close enough to the Camaro, Stiles spun right back around.

“Derek, what the hell was that about?”

Derek pulled his hands away, folding his arms over his chest and shooting a venomous glance toward the frat house. “I did what you asked of me, didn’t I? Brad won’t be asking you out anywhere if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, staring. “You nearly went Alpha on his ass.”

“Would that have been a bad thing?”

“Would that have been a— yes, Sourwolf, that would have been a very bad thing!”

Derek just grunted, not looking convinced. And the entire one-eighty was so sudden, Stiles’s head was spinning. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, well that party is over.”

“You didn’t seem to be having much fun anyway,” Derek said. Stiles blinked at him.

“What?”

“You were anxious and bored the entire time,” Derek said. “A combination which I didn’t know was possible until tonight.”

“I was— I was not.”

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles frowned.

“Whatever. I just wanted to get it over with.”

“Which is why you brought me along,” Derek said. For a moment, the entire ‘Alpha’ bravado actually seemed to drop and he looked a little bothered. “To scare off your supposed friends and make sure they never invited you anywhere ever again, right?”

“Woah, woah, wait. My supposed friends?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles’s frown turned to a glare as anger crashed over him.

“That’s nowhere near true.”

“You said it yourself,” Derek said hotly. “They’re not pack. They’re normal. But that’s not what you want, is it, Stiles?”

“Why the hell isn’t that something I would want?”

“Because you’re not normal!”

Stiles drew back, a pang shooting through him at the sight of Derek’s red eyes and furious expression. For a moment, he just looked at Derek, Derek looked back, and then the man growled, turning his face away until his eyes were back to normal again.

“I did what you asked, Stiles. Should I drive you back to your dorm now?”

Stiles stood there for another second, throat tight. Then, without a word, he turned toward the Camaro. Because he really didn’t trust himself with words at the moment.

Derek took a little while longer to follow. There was no opening of the passenger side door when he stalked over, unlocking the car and climbing into the driver’s seat before slamming it closed.

There was no talking either, when the man slid the keys into the ignition. Stiles clicked his seatbelt in and glared out the window, listening to the faint sound of music where the frat house seemed to glow neon blue from the lights inside.

And damn, if he hadn’t imagined this night going a lot of different ways.

But somehow, it had still gone off the rails.

When they pulled up in front of his dorm, the parking lot was empty and the one street light barely cast enough light for Stiles to see ten feet in front of him.

He climbed silently out of the Camaro, surprised to see Derek do the same. The man looked at him over the top of the car and Stiles swallowed hard, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away.

“Stiles.”

He froze, cursing himself silently. Stiles could hear the man’s footsteps on the asphalt as Derek moved around the car, finally lifting his eyes to meet grey-green again.

“Look, Derek, I know tonight went worse than expected, but—”

“Did you like what happened back there?”

Stiles blinked, clamping his mouth shut again. Derek’s face turned a little red and he dropped his gaze.

“I mean, do you like how normal things here usually are?”

Oh.

Stiles stayed quiet, thinking Derek’s words over for a moment. In truth, something about it had been unsettling. Not the party, not the crowd. Derek, maybe. Stiles thought he’d love to see the man smile more and engage in conversation that easily somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But only if it were real. It had to be real.

“Is all of this what you want?” Derek asked, voice barely a whisper. Stiles sighed.

“No,” he said. Derek glanced up, looking startled, and he shrugged. “Or… not like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. Stiles swallowed hard.

“It’s nice sometimes, you know? I know who these people are, Derek. They’re not supernatural. They’re not going to rip my throat out one day or get killed by a bunch of psycho hunters who think they’d be better as trophies than people.”

Derek winced. Stiles scoffed.

“No,” he said. “They’re not pack. But I’ve spent enough of my life lying about everything that all of this doesn’t seem like much of an issue anymore.”

“So am I a part of the lie now too, then?”

Stiles met the man’s gaze carefully. He wasn’t sure if it was the dim light of the street lamp or the fact that he’d drunk a little too much at the party, but Derek looked downright vulnerable. And this time, it actually seemed real. “I don’t want you to be.”

There was a flicker of red in the werewolf’s eyes. Stiles shook his head.

“I mean, we can totally pretend this whole fake dating thing never happened and go back to our previous arrangement or whatever, but—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence.

Because suddenly, Derek was kissing him.

Stiles’s brain logged offline for a moment. There was the strangest noise and then he realized it had come from him, Derek’s hand cupping the back of his neck as the man kissed him hard and deep, something about the cool night air and the fact that Stiles was not dreaming making the entire world pause around him for a long moment.

Up close, Derek smelled like leather and pine. There was no alcohol on his breath, though Stiles was pretty sure the taste of college beer had to be on his. Which was a strange thought, he figured, closing his eyes as Derek carded a hand through his hair and then finally, finally, he surged forward to kiss the man back.

Maybe a little more hard and hungry. Maybe a little more wanting and hoping that this was real. That this wasn’t part of another lie.

This couldn’t be part of another lie.

Derek growled at the back of his throat, the sound sending shivers down Stiles’s spine. And it was all wolf and one-hundred percent possessive. Nothing normal, nothing ordinary about it.

And dammit, if Stiles had been dreaming about this since he was an idiot teenager ogling werewolf abs when he thought no one was looking.

What had he told Lydia? The chance of Derek ever falling for him was once in a blue moon. Stiles was pretty sure the moon was not blue-- so did this count as falling? He blinked when Derek broke the kiss, drawing away, and there were sparks of red in the man’s eyes that faded ever so slowly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Derek watched him almost nervously, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.

Stiles blinked again. Once, twice. He was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Stiles?”

“That was real,” Stiles said, finally taking a breath. The man’s eyebrows drew together and he actually looked a little amused.

“It was.”

“Derek Hale just kissed me, even though the moon was not blue.”

Grey-green eyes flicked upward and then Derek gave him a strange look. But Stiles was still trying to process, touching his lips experimentally and then squinting at the werewolf, reaching out to touch the man’s cheek.

And yeah, that was Derek Hale’s beard. Stiles breathed out a quiet ‘fuck’ and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you done?”

“One more time,” Stiles said, moving forward. Before Derek could react, he was kissing the man again, one hundred percent online this time as Derek stiffened in surprise, then growled, kissing him hard back. Stiles couldn’t tell which was more hungry this time.

It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this was normal.

But Stiles figured if anything was going to be out of the ordinary, it would be who he was not single and lonely with. There was something about Derek Hale happening once in a blue moon and dammit, if Stiles wasn’t going to latch on and never let go.

Once in a blue moon, he thought. But this moon wasn’t blue.

And maybe that made it so much better.

#sterek #teen wolf #sterekweek2020 #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek hale x stiles stilinski #teen wolf edits #sterek edits #sterek au #sterek moodboard #fake dating #all the fluff and humor

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jjmaybanksbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer III

Part 06: Round And Round

series masterlist | previous part

summary: It seems like the stars have finally aligned to give Rafe Cameron and you a summer of blissful happiness.

a/n: This got a little longer than I expected but I'm not mad at it. I had to give them at least one summer of being cute together before the other shoe drops. The final part to this series will be out Thursday!

word count: 3.2k words (warning this gets decently smutty 18+)

The Island Club had a special glow to it as the sun sunk below the horizon and the thousands of fairy lights strung up around the yard flickered on. A breeze rippled through the warm summer air, making the perfect kind of weather. You took in the sight. The people mingling on the lawn, all dressed in their best clothing. Waiters dashing around, keeping everyone's drinks filled. Bits and pieces of conversations floated up into the night.

You'd finally settled on a long, black satin gown with a deep v-neck that’d you'd found hidden away on the sale rack. Your mother had fussed over how plain it was and how much skin it showed but you were sure it was the right dress from the moment you slipped it on. You'd agreed to let your mom twist your hair into a single braid that fell down your back and she’d stuck bobby-pins with tiny rhinestones in at random intervals. You had painted your lips a deep crimson red to pull it all together.

You were starting to understand the appeal of the whole thing. There was a certain feeling of glamour to the night. Your eyes roamed the lawn noticing Cleo and Milo snuggled close together on the dance floor, swaying to the soft music playing. That was new. Good for them. They looked happy together.

Most people were already here since your Nonna had insisted on being fashionably late.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you heard Rafe's voice from behind you. You turned around and the sight of him made your mind go blank. You'd let yourself picture how Rafe Cameron might look in a suit but the real deal was so much better.

Rafe cleared his throat snapping you back to reality. "You look nice," he said, the compliment bringing a smile to your face.

"You too, Cameron."

"Hey, come with me. I wanna talk to you." He reached down, taking your hand and you slipped your fingers between his, letting him lead you back inside. Almost every person you passed seem to know Rafe and smiled at him or stopped for a quick "hello."

He pulled open a heavy door and ushered you inside. It was the same bathroom where you'd meet Sarah for the first time while trying to escape boring lunch small talk. What were you doing here? Rafe leaned down, checking that all the stalls were in fact empty before turning the hatch on the door to lock it.

Rafe smiled at you widely. "Hi," he muttered as he brought his hand up to cup your face, running his thumb over your cheek.

The butterflies sprung up in your stomach almost immediately.

"Hi," you said back quietly, afraid of breaking the moment.

He walked you backward gently until you felt the cool wall against the exposed skin of your back.

His mouth was dangerously close to yours. His other hand landed on your thigh and he slowly slide it upwards. You weren't sure if you cursed buying a dress with such a high slit or were grateful for the easy access.

“Rafe, we can't do this again. Not here,” you warned but you were sure he could see right through your words. “We were both drunk last time.”

“And I’m completely sober now.” His hand inched closer to your core.

“Do you even remember it?”

“Do you really think I would have dragged you in here and have you pressed up against this wall if I didn’t? Yes, I remember it y/n. I remember the whole very clearly.”

Rafe dropped his voice to just above a whisper. He smoothed his thumb over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this.” But you did want. You wanted it so badly it was killing you. Every bit of you turned to jelly under his touch and you wanted Rafe’s hands all over your body. You had zero interest in telling him to stop. His fingers ghosted over your underwear and you let out a whine without realizing it. “See, I’m barely even touching you and you’re already whining for me.”

Your forehead dropped to his shoulder as he moved your underwear aside, dipping his fingers into your folds.

“Ah, ah, ah. Look at me, baby.” Rafe said, pushing your head back upright before he moved his hand down to wrap his fingers around your throat. His eyes meet yours. This was a different side of Rafe. Rougher and wild but incredibly sexy.

Another moan caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers inside of you. “Fuck, Rafe.”

Your back arched off the wall and a loud moan tumbled off your lips as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “Good girl,” Rafe praised. His words turning you on even more.

Rafe could tell you were nearing your climax and slide his fingers out suddenly.

“Fuck you, Cameron,” you spit.

He laughed. “Please, it couldn’t be more evident that you want to,” he replied, hiking your dress all the way up to your waist, pulling your lacy underwear down to the floor before undoing his belt and kicking his own pants off. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, desperately pulling it open to run your hands over his beautifully chiseled abdomen.

His clothed dick, bulging out of his boxers, rubbed against your clit and your hips bucked up automatically, craving the friction.

Rafe ran his thumb over your bottom lip, slipping it into your mouth as it naturally fell open. “God, you look so fucking hot right now y/n. So so pretty.” He pushed your hips back against the wall, harshly. “But let’s remember, I’m in charge here.”

“Please, Rafe,” you begged. You knew he was going to keep teasing you, loving the way you squirmed under his words.

Rafe pushed his boxer down this knees freeing his hard cock before pulling a condom out of the jacket, unrolling it over his dick. He lined it up with your entrance, pushing into your slowly. The pace almost making you cry out.

“Jesus, Cameron. Fuck me already if you’re going to,” you hissed, annoyed with the ends he was pushing you to.

Rafe chuckled, his eyes locked with yours as he slammed his whole length into you. You bit down on your bottom lip trying to stay quiet.

Rafe reached down, hooking your leg around his waist so he could enter you at a new angle. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, holding onto him for support. Your breath hitched as his thumb began to rub small circles on your clit.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Rafe said, his own breathing uneven. "I needed to do this again."

His mouth attached to your neck, kissing and sucking and you were sure you would find a hickey there tomorrow morning. He rested his forehead on yours, your mouths an inch apart.

You could feel your release growing closer and closer. Rafe's own movements were getting sloppy and desperate. He closed the distance, landing his lips on yours, catching your moans as you came undone. He continued to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, finishing just seconds later.

Neither of you moved for a few moments, savoring the feeling of just holding each other. Your lips met again, the kiss was sweet and slower but still full of passion.

“That was a super productive conversation, Cameron,” you joked.

“I didn’t come here to have one.” He smirked, moving away from you to slip back on his pants. You walked over to the mirror to evaluate how disheveled Rafe’s impromptu due need to fuck had left you. Some piece of hair had sipped out of your braid but they framed your face nicely making it look almost intentional so you could definitely get away with it. Your red lipstick was noticeably gone. If your mom got suspicious, you’d have to blame it on not being able to find a straw. Though the stain on Rafe’s own lips might give you away.

Rafe came up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You watched his movements in the mirror.

With a face like pretty it really was no surprise you found yourself in situations like this. Not that you were complaining. But Rafe had this pull on you that was truly indescribable but impossible to resist.

“Should we get back out there?” You asked. “People might start wondering where you went.”

“Let them,” Rafe replied, placing another kiss on your neck, just below the edge of your jaw. It was your favorite place to feel his lips on you. That spot in particular sent a shiver through your body whenever he kissed it.

“I’ll go first and you follow in five minutes.”

“We can just leave together,” he countered.

“Phoebe might see.”

Rafe hesitated, picking up on the double meaning of your words but wanting to avoid a fight over it. “Okay. You go first.”

☼☼☼

You let yourself get pulled into Rafe Cameron’s orbit for the remainder of the summer. You became a regular figure at the group’s parties, becoming especially fast friends with Riley as you spent more time together and bonded over the world that was high school theater. Milo had claimed you as his beer pong partner from the beginning and the two of you had managed to remain undefeated. The evenings usually ended in you and Rafe sneaking away to his house or yours, the culmination of sly glances and flirtatious winks you’d been teasing each other with the entire time. You left your window perpetually unlocked and learned how to dart across the Cameron’s front lawn without making the motion-sensor lights go off.

One summer night, near the middle of July, you were standing on Rafe's front porch having slipped out quietly when the light clicked on illuminated the yard, You froze, fearing you'd been caught by Rose or worse by Ward but instead, Sarah stepped out of the shadows, her eyes equally wide with fear of being caught.

"Shit, she cursed, half giggling. "I usually don't make that go off."

"Where have you been?" You asked her playfully.

"I meet a boy," she confessed.

Your features contorted into a smile seeing the happiness radiating off Sarah.

"Aw Sarah. I'm so happy for you. Just be safe, okay?" It was hard to believe but Sarah was now the same age you'd been when you and Rafe had first meet.

"Don't worry, y/n. Nothing's even happened. We just sit in his room, talking for hours," she paused, finally realizing the strangeness of you standing on her front porch in the early hours of the morning. "Oh my God. Wait? Are you and Rafe...? It’s about time."

You held out your hand to shush her. The look on your face giving away all your secrets.

"You're good for him," Sarah added. "You're good for each other."

The light clicked off again, the darkness of the night enveloping the two of you.

"That's my cue." You reached out, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug, placing a loving kiss in her blonde hair.

"Bye." She squeezed her arms tighter around your waist before letting go.

☼☼☼

You knocked on the door of Sawyer's pool house, the location the group had decided on for the night after a rather fierce argument in the group chat, one you had pointedly stayed our off. Rafe opened the door, smiling at your presence before stepping outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

He leaned down for a kiss. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied, your lips meeting his.

His hand automatically reached for yours. "C'mon. I wanna do something fun tonight."

"But isn't everyone in there?" You pointed behind him.

"Yeah, but it's just gonna be the same boring thing. Sawyer's drunk already because he can't hold his alcohol for shit. Phoebe thinks we should hit up some touran's party. And Cleo and Milo are no-shows. So let’s go do something else."

You shrugged. You'd much rather have Rafe all to yourself anyway. "Okay, where are we going?"

“It’s a surprise.”

Ten minutes later and Rafe was pulling into the desert parking lot of his high school. “Welcome to the Kook Academy. That’s not it’s actual name but everyone on the island just calls it that since none of the pogues can afford to go here.”

The lofty walls of the private school loomed above you. It looked like a fucking castle that belonged in the rolling heels of Europe, definitely not in the middle of North Carolina.

“C’mon. You can see practically the entire island from the roof.”

“How the hell are we gonna get up there?” You asked.

“The lacrosse team pulled this sweet prank last season and I still have the keys to the roof. Plus, it’s summer. No one’s even here.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Rafe Cameron.”

He leaned across the middle console, sliding a hand being your neck and pulling your face close into his. “I promise it’ll be worth it,” he said before landing his lips on yours.

Soon you were climbing into his lips, straddling his hips. The roof-top adventure temporarily put on hold. You gripped his blonde locks as his hands worked their way under your shirt.

"I thought we were breaking into your high school?" You tesed.

"We are. Right now, I'm just trying to break into your bra," Rafe answered.

"Okay." You shoved his hand away. "On account of the fact that that was the worst comeback I've ever heard, let's go."

"I can't help it. Your tits were distracting me," he answered, trying to reach for them again.

You swatted his hand away "Rafe."

"Party pooper," he replied with a frown.

"You're such a drama queen." You leaned down for a quick kiss, tearing your lips away before he had the chance to pull you in deep.

Rafe hadn't lied. The view from the roof was breathtaking. You could see all the way to the end of the island from the top of the fourth-story building. The cars moving below were tiny dots, the people even smaller. You stood at the edge, your eyes fixed on the churning ocean stretching beyond the horizon. The whole thing felt eternal.

Rafe's eyes watched your own, the glint in them growing as you took in the sight.

"Holy shit, Rafe. This is amazing," you said, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, not looking away from the skyline.

"I thought you might think so."

The two of you stayed like that and watched the sun disappear below the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink glory before the dark night sky littered with brights stars replaced it.

The wind nipped at your skin, fiercer up here than on the ground. It made you snuggle into Rafe's side, stealing his body heat to stay warm.

"Ready to go back down?" Rafe asked.

"Not yet." You weren't prepared for this moment to end. You longed to stay in it, here, with him, for as long as you could.

"Okay," Rafe answered, pulling your back closer into his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around you to fight off the cold. "Okay," he repeated. He let a few more minutes pass before breaking the silence again.

“I bought you something.”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Rafe had money, obvious, but you never knew him to be much of a gift-giver. Mostly, because he was hyperaware that the money belonged to Ward, not him. Rafe reached into his back pocket, producing a small black velvet box. You took it from his outstretched hands and opened it. Inside, lay a beautiful gold necklace with a single dainty star.

You look up at Rafe tears welling in your eyes from the romantic gesture. Your heart swelled. “Oh my God. I love it, Rafe.” I love you. You stopped yourself before those three little words, three words more explosive than dynamite, had the chance to slip out as well.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s only a necklace. Want me to put it on you?”

You nodded, handing Rafe back the box. You lifted up your hair up with one hand and he carefully draped the necklace around your neck, fastening the clasp in the back.

Rafe smiled at the look of it hanging around your neck like a reminder that you always had him, that you would always have him.

“Thank you, babe. I seriously love it.” You took the necklace between your fingers peering down at it.

“Anything for my girl.”

☼☼☼

Hours later, you were back in Rafe’s room, laying on top of him, your naked stomachs pressed together, your head resting on his chest, your legs intertwined beneath the comforter. Rafe ran his index finger lazily up and down your arm, goosebumps springing up in its wake. You lifted your head off his chest to look at him.

“I think we should maybe talk about what happened last summer," you started.

“Why?” He asked back.

“Uh, cause you told me to pick and I didn’t pick you. But then I get back to the Outer Banks and we sleep together within the first week.”

“But you’re not dating Evan anymore.”

“Right.”

“So what’s there to talk about. You’re free to fuck anybody you want. Preferably me, right now, again.” He eagerly moved you so that your already sensitive core, from the night's earlier activities, was straddling his thigh. You groaned at the contact, quickly shifting away as not to let him distract you from the conversation.

“What about Phoebe?” You asked.

“What about Phoebe?”

“Well, you took her to Midsummers.”

“Cause we’re friends and I knew it would make Ward happy.”

You paused. “But we’re friends.”

“Baby, trust me. Phoebe and I are not the same kind of friends me and you are.” His palm landed on your back, rubbing small comforting circles.

"Meaning you're not sleeping with her?" The words came as a question, though you’d meant it as a statement.

"Definitely not." Rafe paused. "It's just you."

This was the closest you'd come to having the 'What are we?' conversation. You had suspected the two of you had been exclusive for some time but it was refreshing to hear Rafe say it aloud.

"Yeah, it's just you for me too," you replied.

You started to move off Rafe's warm body. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I gotta get home. My mom’s started going on these crazy 6 a.m morning runs and I’m afraid she’s gonna catch me sneaking it.” You leaned down to kiss him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ward and I are leaving for those college visits tomorrow.”

Oh shit, you had forgotten about that. “And my flight back’s the week after that.” The implication of your words hung in the air. The summer was coming to a close and you couldn’t stop it.

“It’s okay y/n. We’ll call and text during the school year and next summer you’ll be back.”

“Right,” you agreed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling growing in your stomach. You had the summer-fling of your dreams with Rafe and here he was promising to stay in touch so why didn’t it feel good? Why didn't it feel right?

“I gotta go. Have a good trip.” You took Rafe's face in your hands hoping to kiss away the uneasy feeling. Rafe's hands wandered down to cup your butt, pulling you back on top of him.

“Rafe...” you trailed off as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“Shhh,” he mumbled back.

You knew you should probably pull yourself away from him, staying would cut it too close with your mom but the way his hands roamed your body was making it hard to think about anything rationally. He rolled your hips against his already hard-again dick. Fuck, the things this boy did to you were dangerous. Besides, maybe this would distract you from that achy feeling you had about the future so you let yourself kiss Rafe back desirously.

But two weeks later, as the tires of your plane lifted off the runway, en route back to Oregan, that feeling hadn’t gone away in the slightest.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #obx #obx netflix #obx fanfic #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut

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leejeongz · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw a-z BAE JINYOUNG (CIX)

requested: yes, by anon

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he sometimes forgets that you need to be looked after once it's all over but if you remind him, he’s gonna do whatever you need. his favourite tiny activity to do for you is putting on some fluffy slippers for you for comfort. he just thinks it’s so cute and it makes him feel relaxed too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he really loves your legs! the way they wrap around him and pull him in closer when your about to cum is one of his favourite moments during sex. he really likes running his fingers up and down them, knowing it drives you crazy and turns you on.

his favourite thing about him is his tongue. he knows it works wonders and that you love it, anything you love he definitely loves it too. he’s the type of guy that will lick any exposed skin just to try and turn you on, and would you look at that, it works.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this guy doesn’t think too much about it but when he does cum, it looks so fucking pretty on you. and he tells you how pretty it looks too, vvv sincerely. it mostly happens either on your tummy or over your lips (he likes to drag is dick all over your lips while he’s cumming, hence why his aim is so good). other, rarer places include all over your face, down the back of your hand when you’ve finished him off by hand and on your inner thighs.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants a threesome with you and another girl SO badly but he doesn’t want you to feel jealous and he’s happy with just you anyway. he just wants the experience.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

you cannot be bae jinyoung and not be experienced… that’s all i’m saying…

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves sitting you on the edge of the counter/sink so butterfly is his favourite position. you can easily wrap your legs around him in this position which is absolutely something he’s into, especially if you’re close to cumming on his dick and he gets to feel them shaking.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

v e r y serious. he’s focused and he’s in the zone, nothing can make him snap out of it. the only laughs you’re getting out of him are ones when you do something “pathetic” that makes him wanna fuck u even more.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

pretty much clean shaven, if not very neatly trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

despite being rather rough and seemingly distanced, it’s actually all very romantic. he loves being close to you and maintaining eye contact throughout.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he tugs one out in the shower at least twice a week. something about the hot and steaminess of the shower gets him all worked up, not to mention it’s private and he can take as much time as he needs. he also uses the wall for stability and imagines fucking you against it.

something that he gets off to WHENEVER it happens (like u could catch him off guard while he’s just chilling with his friends) is phone sex. he loves hearing your heavy breathing down the phone and will drop anything for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

corruption- this man loves turning you into his dirty little whore, he would love to see you change from a sweet innocent girl. he’s gonna teach you things that are beyond your imagination and that soon become a regular for you two. there’s always something he can teach you, even if you think you know everything. he giggles about how attached you become to the things he’s taught you too as he’s proud of what he’s done to you. the whole reason why he degrades you is so that you know your place and that you learn to be like this just for him.

when he’s feeling less dominant (it’s rare but it does happen) he likes using the term “mommy” but if you’re not into it, he won’t say it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his ultimate favourite place is in bed but he also likes to fuck you in the bathroom, in the shower. he likes fucking you passionately under the sheets, where it’s hot and sweaty and dark so you can’t see much, it’s all about feeling.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

lingerie, especially sets or pieces that he’s bought you (and hasn’t torn yet). you just look so good, particularly in lace, that he cannot wait to take it off you. it drives him c r a z y knowing that you’re feeling yourself in it too, the confidence is sexy.

not only seeing you in lingerie, but also just dresses that show off your legs. he’s a real big lover of your legs and whenever you show them off, he goes wild. this is why most “fancy dates” actually eventually just turn into you and him not even making it out of the house because he’s already got his head buried between your legs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

absolutely no non con. he would constantly be asking if everything was okay with you if you didn’t stop him and tell him it ruined the mood. NO NON CON.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he does love receiving but he prefers giving. he prefers making you cum on his tongue and getting you soaking before he fucks you. he’s not the type of guy who won’t eat you out after he’s fucked you either, he does not care, anything to make you cum. he loops his arms around your thighs so you can’t move or pushes your torso into the the bed/back into the mirror. he kisses you after so you can taste yourself on his lips.

when receiving, eye contact is a must. if you don’t look at him, then there will be consequences, yet idk how you can’t look at him while he’s pulling your hair in such a way that forces you to look up at him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

usually fast and rough but not without passion and love.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a fan. he just can’t throw himself into something like that just for the sake of it. it takes time to get you both so worked up, it’s not just something that can be done in a matter of minutes.

but if you consider phone sex a quickie (?) then sure he’s all for it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s down to take risks if you are. he’d do pretty much anything, especially if you’re into it. taking risks is something he wants to introduce to you no matter who you are or what you want, there’s always something he can do.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds if you want it, he’s up for it. given that he’s giving oral more than receiving, sex seems to last a long time, but he won’t actually last that long inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh he LOVESSSS using toys on you to tease you. like using a vibrator against your clit and telling you not to cum is something he actively looks forward to, seeing you struggle and fight against it for so long.

he also likes when you suck his dick and use a toy on yourself at the same time. like it’s getting you wet for him and he’s getting pleasure too without even lifting a finger.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

his middle name is tease lol. he loves edging you and denying your orgasms until you beg him to let you release. he also enjoys it when you tease him but that is saved for special occasions when all the roles are reversed. if he was in dom mode, you are under no circumstances allowed to tease him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not that bothered about having loud sex, he’s more likely going to tell you to shut up (and that your mouth is meant for sucking not for talking anyway).

he himself doesn’t make much noise, it’s more about the facial expressions that let you know when he’s having a good time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

(ok so i decided i’m not gonna do those mini scenario things for this anymore bc they aren’t that good lmao instead i’m just gonna write stuff that doesn’t really fit anywhere else)

this guy gets real sweaty while fucking you. this is super beneficial, which you both soon learn as it helps you slip between positions. not only is it great physically, but it also makes everything more intimate and you find it’s something that actually really turns you on when it’s him. he’s gonna run his hand through his hair and droplets are gonna fall on you and you ARE gonna like it.

this man absolutely adores eye contact in the moment. it really gets him in the mood and shows you that he’s focused on you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

you cannot convince me he isn’t packing okk? maybe he isn’t the girthiest but it’s definitely long and for some reason (idk why but go with me on this) i think he’s circumcised.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s horny when you’re horny. well he’s gonna be horny whenever you want him to be really. he doesn’t want sex all the time, but if you want it it’s gonna make him want it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

honestly 🤭 pretty much as soon as he’s cleaned up and helped you he’ll be zonked. he likes to fall asleep on your shoulder while your on your phone because he knows that’s something you do most of the time after sex.

#smut #cix smut #cix imagines #cix imagine #jinyoung #bae jinyoung #jinyoung smut #bae jinyoung smut

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tg-headcanons · 3 years ago

Note

HIDEYOSHI NSFW ALPHABET PLEEEEESE

HORNY HOURS FOR BLONDE BOY this is just hidekane really “partner” is Kaneki

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s SUPER sweet, the second he’s done he’s already cleaning his partner up and showering them in praise

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his arms, he thinks he’s way more jacked than he is. On his partner (cough cough Kaneki) he likes the Kagune. Don’t judge him it’s sexy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he shudders when he does it. It’s sort of cute the way his whole body shows when he finishes

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he’s REALLY into kagune. Like disgustingly into kagune. It started with “oh that’s pretty cool biologically” then “hey this is cute” then “hey hypothetically could you jerk me off with your tentacles?” By now he’s gotta accept that the second his man brings out the kagune he’s harder than the SATs

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a little. A girl here and there at school or at parties but hasn’t been with anyone in a solid relationship before. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to pace and keeping the mood, and he studies a lot on how his to make his partner feel good just to be sure he does well for them. Honestly he studied what brands of condoms are better or what positions are the easiest on his partner better than he studies for anything he’s ever had a test in

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): he likes anything really, but different ones have different perks. Butterfly or lotus is great for that sweet, intimate sex with lots of kissing, but doggy is good for getting deep in his partner or when helping him through his heat

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s constantly joking. Almost every time they fuck he and Ken now have a stupid inside joke. Now whenever someone mentions Cadbury eggs they exchange a look due to That Thing Hide Said After Kaneki Came In Him

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): when he becomes a quinx he starts getting them. They’re very mild compared to full a ghoul’s but he’s still got cramps and muscle weakness and The Big Horny. He and Kaneki just go to a hotel and have a whole ass fuckfest for a week. By the time their heats sync up they’ve both got reservations made and the calendar marked. Even though it’s Oof Ouch Cramps they look forward to it since it means they can have a little getaway

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very romantic. He keeps things light, but still makes sure his partner knows how much he cares about them

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): surprisingly, not that often. He used to do it two or three times a week, but since he started dating ken he mostly deals with his urges with him, but will still jerk off if his partner isn’t in the mood or they aren’t together. Those memories of having their lips wrapped around his cock go a long way

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): he likes having his partner wear something. Ropes, a collar, even a piece of clothing or jewelry. Anything that he put on them or asked them to wear gives him a rush, he loves the feeling of his partner letting him control what on their body. He likes to tease and pamper, why not give them a cute thing to wear while getting their back blown out?

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): hotels. He loves doing it anywhere he can, but there’s something about a fancy room he doesn’t have to think about cleaning all laid out for the two of them to fuck in that can’t be topped

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): seeing his partner flustered. He’ll tease and praise them until they’re a blushing mess, and at that point he’s raring to go

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he can’t be mean. Teasing is fine, maybe a few joking insults, but any actual degradation or role play where he even conceptually crosses a boundary is too far for him. Even if his partner wants it, he’d feel guilty and need to stop

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he likes giving a little more just for the opportunity to tease. There’s no feeling quite like having his partner in his mouth just teetering on the edge of climax

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he starts excruciatingly slow to let his partner adjust even when he’s sure they’re fine, but once they let him know they can take it he fucks like a rabbit. Call him Lightning McPeen because he is speed

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): yes. Just yes. He’ll ask over and over if his partner is really okay with it because he doesn’t want to pressure them but DAMN does he want to fuck them somewhere where they might get caught

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he’d try anything and everything, but the only thing he worries about is feeling like he’s pressuring his partner. Even if they both completely consent to something, no matter what, he’s going to check with them over and over to be sure they’re really okay with it. Anything is fine as long as he’s given a heads up so he can prepare for it and maybe read up on it to make sure it’s done safely and right

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he can go for awhile, Kaneki better watch out. R I P that bussy ayy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he has some bondage rope for the rare occasion he and his partner plan out some rope play, and he has a muzzle. That’s a long story

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): CONSTANTLY. He will make his partner beg without even telling them to, he’s good at teasing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): mostly some deep moans, but he can get a little giggly sometimes. It’s not uncommon for him to give a few excited chuckles when things are getting heated

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): for Kaneki’s first heat, he was given a cage muzzle to stop him from biting a chunk out of Hide. They used it. Then they didn’t stop. It’s surprisingly hot to muzzle his boyfriend, he looks cute muzzled like an obedient puppy and he likes giving that control to Hide. Whenever they’re looking to spice up their time together, their first thought is always that

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Hide Is hung like a fucking centaur. 8 inches and thick, he can kill god with that

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): more or less average, but with his partner he’s of course going to be more likely to be turned on

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): not too fast. He’s always awake enough to give aftercare, and cuddles for awhile before passing out

#tokyo ghoul #hidekane #ken kaneki #hideyoshi nagachika #tokyo ghoul headcanon #notsfw alphabet #notsfw

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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ecclais-fouoras · 4 years ago

Text

Lap dance pt1

(chapter 2 of this fanfic)

Warnings: mentions of prostitution, disabilities

It was your friend's bachelorette party,

You Were all at a strip club drinking a d laughing.

Wilhelmina dressed in a purple strapless dress and yourself with a nice blue suit, the both of you had a silly hat and a crossing belt that's said 'nalla's last Happy night'. It was getting later and you where all getting more tipsy by the minute.

When the sexy song arrived you knew it was time for her to have fun. As the women on stage stopped dancing and walked towards the Booth you were at, you could see wilhelmina blushing and whispered in her ear

"enjoying the show here babe"

Her breath got stuck in her lungs for a second and you burst out laughing.

You suddenly stopped when you could feel the striper starting a lap dance on you, swaying her lips to the rhithm of the song.

You grew your eyes at wilhelmina and she nodded slightly. You shifted slightly as she started grinding on your thighs and picking up your hands to rest on her hips. She continued to move her body on you and turned around to face you, she was now straddling you and rocking against you with her back arched and her bra slowly exposing her boob.

She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and you mouthed 'thank you' as she moved to do the same to wilhelmina who politely refused. Her face unreadable, you tried to see if she was okay and why she'd refused to participate. The party ended at 3:45 am and you came home later on.

You quickly got undressed and took your undershirt off. You pour yourself a glass of water and made one for wilhelmina too.

"You should drink sweetie, you're gonna get dehydrated", she took the glass but still said nothing to you.

You put on some slow beat music and made your way to the bathroom and took out the pills for tomorrow's probable headache.

"Mina do you want 20 or 40 mg tomorrow ?" She didn't reply so you poked your head out the door.

"Babe?....V?" She laid on the sofa her hand above her head.

"Mina darling are you okay ? Was it too much..? Is your back hurting ? Talk to me babe" her face soften a bit before her brows scrunched up again.

"I'm fine." You reach for her hand and kissed her softly.

"..talk to me love"

"Go to bed. And stop wondering around in your underwear. The neighborhood doesn't have to see you naked."

"Wilhelmina venable what is going on right now. Why are you mad at me ?"

"I am not mad at you"

"Yeah and I'm not gay... Babe we've been over this, you need to tell me what's going on" you sat on your heels next to her and stroked her cheek.

"I love you wilhelmina, you know that right"

"Yes"

"So what's going on babe ?"

She sat up again and looked into your eyes

"Did you like it ?"

"What"

"The striper's lap dance"

"Mina...i..."

"Just be honest with me"

"..yes"

"Were you aroused ?"

"...it's a lap dance honey that's the whole point"

"That's not an answer"

"Yes. But why are you making it so bad?"

"So she turned you on ?"

"Yes mina for God sake."

"Did you want to fuck her huh?"

"No"

"Don't lie to me y/n"

"I'm not, yes I liked it, yes it turned me on, but that doesn't mean I wanted to fuck her."

"How come?"

"The body doesn't always answer the mind wilhelmina. Your brain doesn't always control your physical reactions. That's why You can be aroused in dramatic situations."

"Since when"

"Since you're a kid mina. There's a reason why small boys laugh when you change their diapers. And why little girls grind on their bikes. And it only increases as you grow up."

"And what does this have to do with that happened at the strip club"

"I thought you were fine with what happened at the club. Mina we talked about this, and I made sure you were okay with it. "

"I was until she started letting your hands touch her."

"Babe...it was just an act. She knows she'll never see me again. And she sees people like us every night."

"You didn't seem to be acting the way your were horny"

"I wasn't 'horny' as you said it mina, but yes, a woman gives me a lap dance in lingerie, im a lesbian wilhelmina, yes I was aroused. But that's not the real problem right ?"

"I...what are you saying"

"There's another reason your upset. I watched you during the dance, you weren't upset I was enjoying it. There is something else" you place your hands on her lap

"..mina, you know I love you, I only want you, you're the only one I need, i only enjoyed because you were watching me"

"..yes"

"Me enjoying the lap dance wasn't the problem wasn't it ?"

"No"

"What was it then honey"

"...y... you're going to think it's ridiculous"

"I would never think that about something that's making you this upset"

"..i...I'll...I'll never be able to give you one."

You chuckled slightly shocked at her words.

"See I told you you'd make fun of me"

"No..no...no babe it's just...I wasn't expecting that...I don't understand why it got you so upset, it's not a big deal, i don't need lap dances"

"But you enjoy them"

"But I don't need it, at all. And especially in my sex life."

"...be honest with me, do I make your...sex life boring, are there things you miss because of me?" You cupped her cheek

"Hey...hey...hey no. Babe I'm very satisfied with my sex life. . I'm not missing anything, I get to have sex with you, and I don't care about how, or with what, or in which complicated position. I just want to be in sync with your body, make you cum, hold you close. That's it. That's what gets me off. Not the toys, not the poses, or dances. Just your pleasure, All I want is you"

"...but I'd like to give you a lap dance, or a striptease for you, at the bar I could see your face, and the way you looked at her body. I can't help but want that too."

"Wilhelmina, i look at you like this too, not in the same exact way obviously, cause you're mine, my beautiful and sexy piece of ass."

She laughed and it sent butterflies in your stomach.

"Besides Giving lap dance all day isn't that fun, and it really exhausting"

"How do you even know ?"

"I just do wilhelmina"

"Y/n...? I told you why I was upset, it's your turn."

"...well before I knew you, I worked at a strip club"

"You what ?"

"I used to be a stripper V"

"Why ??!"

"Because I didn't have any money, no friends, no place to stay. It was what put food in my stomach and the end of the day"

"Oh god...babe...how long did you stay like this ?"

"Two years and a half without my apartment and 6 month with it. As soon as I got a roof over my head everything became kind of easier"

"Where'd you stay before that ?"

"Every where, outside in a small street most of the time. If i was lucky I would find an abandoned house to sleep in"

"...oh god...how old were you ?"

"It was when I arrived in the us, so probably 17 and a half ? Yeah, almost 18...it may not have been the greatest period of my life but it was still better than what I lived back in russia. The stripping part wasn't so terrible, my boss was a nice lady, and she took me in even though she didn't have the legal right to, and it saved me from having to...let's Just say she helped me a lot." She kissed your cheek as a reassuring gesture.

"Y/n from having to what ? You're scaring me"

"Well...when she met me, it was because one of the girl I worked with before Introduced her. Wilhelmina i didn't have any other options except selling drugs but that could have gotten me in too much trouble so I sold... something else, the only thing I knew how to do." She stroked your hair to help you continue.

"I guess you could say I was a real bitch huh. "Why would I ever say that y/n"

"Mina I was a whore. A litteral prostitute, I sold my body to anyone who'd give me a good price. On the streets, roads or forests. It's what got me out of russia, out of france and here today. I build myself on sex work."

"That doesn't define who you are today, it doesn't make you any less legitimate in your current job. And it doesn't even begin to make me love you any less y/n"

"Thank you darling, it means a lot to me"

You held each other tightly, her hands rubbing your back. After a few moments you broke off the embrace took her hand before leading her upstairs, to your room and put her to bed.

"I'm not showered honey" she made a move to stand up but you guided her back down

"It doesn't matter, just take that off and let me cuddle you."

"Alright, sweet dreams y/n"

You fell asleep shortly afterwards, snuggled up, together, your hand in her hair, her breath on your neck, lips grazing your skin.

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chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

Note

Soft head canon taking a shower w/ Anakin because I think that’s the cutest thing ever

I hope you guys don’t mind, I decided to just combine these. also, I’m proud to say it, SMUT WARNING 😆😆😆

This is dedicated to my whores in the Anakin’s Sluts gc 👀❤️

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader Take a Shower (Fluff + smut)

The battle was a particularly cruel one. It seemed like every other week you were on a desert planet-- much to Anakin’s dismay-- where the sand would get kicked up and everyone would choke on the dust and you couldn’t see two feet in front of you. You had to get used to shielding your eyes, slathering yourself in sunscreen, and swallowing with a parched throat. Finally, after the separatist base had been destroyed and the droid factory shut down, you and Anakin were sent home.

After reporting to the Jedi council (you technically had no obligation to since you weren’t a Jedi, but it felt like the right thing to do since you were working under them for the Republic), you and Anakin stumbled to his room in the Jedi temple. You were both too tired and beat up to care if anyone saw you-- albeit the hallways were empty-- as Anakin held the door open for you and followed you into the room himself.

“You can take first shower,” he told you, shrugging off his Jedi robe and folding it over the couch. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the stiffness already building up in your arms.

“You sure? I’m fine to wait if you want to go first.”

Anakin slung his arm around your shoulders and led you to the bathroom, planting a quick kiss to your dirt-smeared forehead. “You’re dirtier than me. You go first.”

“Or…” you took his hand and ran your lips over his knuckles. You looked up at him deviously. “We can take one together.”

His face suddenly lit up. You wanted to roll your eyes at his boyish excited, but he was too busy ripping his belt and leather armor off to see.

“Don’t be shy,” you joked, and started the shower so you could give him some privacy. While you two had seen each other naked before, you were still a bit shy around him and preferred to ease into things. Anakin, on the other hand, had no shame. This was evident from the pants that he threw to the ground, signaling that he was fully naked. He walked up behind you and pulled your hair over your shoulder, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“Your turn.”

Again, that damn bashfulness bubbled up in your stomach. Anakin could sense it, and his chest rumbled with quiet laughter from behind you.

“I’ll give you some privacy then,” he let his fingers trail teasingly over the delicate skin of your neck, and then his warmth was gone from your back. You closed your eyes as he walked in front of you and got in the shower.

Get it together, you commanded yourself. It’s just Anakin.

Yes, Anakin. Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, sculpted Anakin. The thought of his impressive physique just behind that curtain was doing nothing to quell your rising nerves.

“Water’s getting cold,” he teased from the shower. You rolled your eyes again.

“I’m coming.”

Starting with your shirt, you lifted it up and over your head and let it drop to the ground in the pile of Anakin’s clothes. Your pants followed, then your bra and underwear. Facing the shower, you took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

You pulled the curtain back a little bit and slipped inside, looking at the ground so you wouldn’t psych yourself out. When you looked up, Anakin was staring down at you, a sideways smile on his face, dripping with water.

“Well hello there…” he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chiseled body. You were glad he did that, so you could hide your body by pressing it against him. You’d be fine in a moment, you knew that-- you just needed to warm up.

“Oh stop it,” you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, resting your cheek against his chest. “That’s Obi-Wan’s line.”

He pulled a face at that. “Please don’t mention Obi-Wan while we’re showering together.”

“My apologies,” you laughed, and then pulled away. Swallowing your nerves, you reached for a bottle of shampoo behind his head and got to work scrubbing your hair. You passed the bottle to him and he did the same.

This was the part you were nervous about. You didn’t feel particularly sexy washing yourself in front of him. Shampooing your hair was such a menial task, but it was something you never pictured having anyone else ever witness. Especially Anakin.

But he didn’t seem to mind. He did the same as you-- scrubbed his hair with shampoo, then stepped under the water to wash it out. You smiled as his hair fell into his face, and he ran his hand through it to get it out of his eyes.

“M’lady,” he stepped aside so you could wash the shampoo out. While you did, he grabbed a cloth and applied some body wash to it. You watched his bicep flex as he squeezed the bottle. He looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“May I?”

Oh. He wanted to wash you.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded. The butterflies were starting in your stomach again, but you beat them down with a stick.

He stepped up close to you again, eyes soft as he ran the cloth gently over your shoulder, down your arm, and back up again. He did the same to the other side, spreading the soap along with it, before moving on. He made you turn so he could get your back, your behind, your legs. You were a blushing mess when he turned you around again, but he was smirking.

“Cute butt,” he quipped, and you glared at him.

“Lemme see that,” you reached for the cloth, but he raised it over his head. No fair. If he got to get up close and personal with your goods, you deserved to do the same to him.

“Ah ah ah, I’m not done yet.”

You crossed your arms, pouting as he applied more soap to the cloth. He looked at you expectantly.

“What?” his eyes drifted to the arms crossed over your chest. “Oh.”

You let your arms drop, baring it all for his eyes to devour. And devour, they did.

With one hand on your ribcage to keep you still, he got to work running the cloth over the delicate skin of your breasts. Your breathing increased as he directed his sole focus on them, never having a person pay such close attention to them before. He was being very nice about it though, his expression staying neutral yet soft, interested yet thoughtful.

You knew he was doing cartwheels in his mind though.

Always the gentleman, he didn’t linger. He could probably sense your growing nerves, and moved on to run the cloth down the valley of your breasts and to your navel. He finished up by washing your sides and then helped get the suds off with the showerhead.

He smirked slightly when he picked up the showerhead, and you knew what he was thinking. You responded by taking it from his grasp and hooking it back up to the wall.

“You’re no fun,” he winked, squeezing more body wash onto the cloth. He began to wash himself with it before you grabbed his wrist to stop him. He understood right away what you wanted to do.

He stood still beneath you, a smug smirk plastered on his face as you took your time running the cloth over his body. It wasn’t fair, really, how crazy attractive his body was. And what’s worse-- he knew it too.

You took your time dragging the cloth over his broad shoulders, down his muscular arms, over his chiseled chest. You watched the soapy suds drip down between his defined abs, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath he took. His skin glistened with moisture under the warm spray, the steam clouding up around you. You went lower, tracing his v-line, lingering for a moment, caught up in the sight of him--

“Okay, I think that’s enough of that,” he said as your hand was enveloped in his, removing the cloth from your grasp. You returned to reality, feeling all of a sudden way too hot. One look at his face and you knew he felt the same.

“Right,” you reached behind him again to turn the lever of the shower off, but the soap on the floor caused you to slip and fall forward. Anakin caught you, but you were pressed right up against him once again. Only this time, the air between you two was crackling with electricity.

“Careful,” his voice was deeper, raspy. You were hyper aware of every place your body met his-- the arm around your back, hand pressed to the dip in your spine, your front meeting every hard plane of his. One look at his face and you knew what had already been decided.

Your lips met on their own accord.

Water dripped into your mouth as your lips slotted with his, but you didn’t care. You gripped his shoulders as he spun you around and pressed you against the shower wall, out of the way of the spray of water so he could get to you properly. He attacked your mouth like he was starving, and it was all you could do to keep up.

His lips strayed from your mouth, making his way down your neck, licking and biting and sucking the skin. You gasped for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing at the same time he returned to your mouth.

He swallowed your moan, your hands digging into his shoulders, pushing yourself up so you could get more leverage on him. He knew where you wanted him, and he was more than willing to supply.

“Fuck, baby,” he broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You could feel his panting breaths on your lips, water dripping from his bangs down your face. You were so enveloped in him it was hard to breathe, but there was nothing else you’d rather suffocate in.

He watched his hands squeeze your breasts again, holding them in his large palms, flicking his flesh thumb over your nipple. The sensation shot right to your core, and you bowed your back away from the wall, pressing closer to him.

You wanted to tell him what you wanted, where you wanted his sinful mouth, but all you could vocalize was a pathetic, “Please.”

He bent his head to press a kiss the hollow of your neck, a promise of what was to come. He looked up at you, and his eyes were hooded, dark.

In the next moment, his lips were wrapped around your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it around with his tongue. You gasped, hands instantly digging into his hair to hold him in place.

While his mouth paid avid attention to your left peak, his right metal thumb-- warmed from the water-- massaged the right. You had no idea this could feel so good, but your body was singing with pleasure due to Anakin’s ministrations.

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and then released it with a pop, kissing his way over to the right to give it equal attention. You watched him tongue at your soft flesh, flicking the peak back and forth until it was hard. Then, ever so gently, he closed his teeth around it and nibbled.

You just about tore his hair out.

He laughed at your reaction, running a tongue over the area to soothe his actions. It sent vibrations through your body, causing your nerves to go haywire. Switching back to your left breast, he closed his lips around your nipple again and closed his eyes, moaning.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Shit, Anakin,” you panted, throwing your leg around his hip and grinding onto his thigh. The heat was pooling up there, and you needed some friction to relieve it. He met your actions with a hand to your hip, guiding your movements as he continued his work on your chest.

Between his mouth on your chest, working you in ways that made blood pool both in your cheeks and in your lower regions, and the sinful grinding you were doing on his leg-- you weren’t sure how you lasted so long.

Those beautiful plump lips closed around you again, teeth scraping your sensitive skin, sucking you into his mouth and running his tongue over the center. At the same time, he reached a hand down and began playing with your sensitive nub, massaging it just so that it would cause an explosion within your body.

You threw your head back, pressing it against the shower wall as the rest of your body curved into his involuntarily. Anakin’s name left your mouth in a cry, fingers digging into his scalp, but if it hurt him he didn’t mention it. Your head went all fuzzy, your vision spotty as the high crashed over you like a wave. He slowed his motions and backed off on the pressure as you came down, working you through it but not stopping completely.

When your body stopped twitching and your head cleared up, you fell into Anakin limply. Your body was useless, the powerful orgasm he just gave you having soaked up every last bit of strength you had left in your bones. You felt like a big blob of jelly, and Anakin released your sensitive peak with a smile.

“Beautiful,” he traced his lips over your forehead, holding you up with his hands under your arms.

You both noticed the water going cold at about the same time.

“I guess that’s our cue,” he reached up to turn the water off, then called a towel over with the force. He helped you out of the shower and wrapped you in the towel, guiding you to sit down on the toilet cause your legs were too weak to stand.

“Just so you know,” you managed to choke out. “I’m returning the favor once we get back to your room.”

There was no point in getting dressed. Anakin smirked and took your hand, leading the way.

#this was my first attempt at smut okay #im lowkey proud of it tho #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin fluff #star wars prequals #anakin fic

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j-pankratz · 4 years ago

Text

The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T. Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

#Geraskefer #Jaskier Whump #Soft Geralt #Soft Yennefer #The Witcher #Witcher Fic #jaskier #geralt #yennfer of vengerberg #sleep deprivation #insomnia #hurt/comfort #Witcher Whump #Butterbard's Fics

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hollandbaby · 4 years ago

Text

thirsty - fwb!t.h smut

warnings: fucking, spanking, choking, fwb. based on that pic.

You bit your lip when you saw his instagram story. He sure knew how to tease you, posing shirtless in front of the mirror with his broad shoulders and toned body on display for the world to see. A part of you wanted to believe he’d posted it just for you to see, but you knew that wasn’t true. That didn’t stop your fingers typing a direct message to Tom in response to his story though: yo, chill. You don’t expect an instant response, Tom was a busy man and you knew he was at the gym. But your phone buzzes almost instantly with his response; whatever do you mean ;). You roll your eyes, biting your lip again as you look at his story one more time.

your thirst is showing, holland :)

And with that you lock your phone, not wanting to get too caught up in the butterflies in your stomach. You carry on with some online work which you were doing before Tom’s instagram story got the better of you. Tapping away at your keyboard you distract yourself, immersing yourself into your work, until your phone buzzes again. Your eyes flit down to your screen, doing a double take when you see the notification is from Tom, who had just sent you a photo. And you just about combust there and then; he’d sent you another mirror selfie, this time in nothing but a tight pair of Calvin’s, the lighting better so you can see every muscle on his stomach, the dip of his v line disappearing deliciously into his boxers, making you want to kiss along his skin. His hair is messy and curly, wet from a shower, and he’s biting his lip. You feel your thighs clench as you continue staring at the image, thumb on the corner to keep it from disappearing. God, he’s going to kill me. You let the image disappear, but it’s engrained in your mind, and message him back: someone’s cocky ;). And before you can get back to your work, you see that he’s already typing so you wait until he’s done. What you don’t expect is another photo, this time with his hand gripping his hard on through his boxers, jawline sharp and broad shoulders on full display, his face covered by his phone but his abs on full display. You notice a droplet of water on his chest, presumably from his hair, but the way it glistens on his skin is so immensely sexy.

He’s captioned this one; what was that about my cock? and you swear your panties are soaked. You tell him to come over, now. before saving your work and closing your laptop. As you freshen yourself up, you get a text: already on my way. You change into something less comfortable, a black lace number that Tom’s mentioned he loved on you before. You smirk to yourself as you pose in front of the mirror in the bathroom, sending Tom a picture of yourself captioned don’t dm and drive. Your features are perfectly accentuated by the set; the black lace complimenting the curve of your boobs, your hips appear full and your skin looks smooth as silk. Tom types back a fuck, and before you know it there’s a knock at the door. You pull on a robe, heading to the front door to open it, when you do you’re instantly pulled into Tom’s arms, lips crashing together in a kiss of pent up sexual frustration. That’s the reason you started this agreement in the first place; neither of you wanted a relationship but you both missed having sex. When you got drunk and fucked that one time, it’s been that way ever since.

Tom lifts you off the ground, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he kicks the door closed behind him, not caring that it slams shut. You continue kissing as Tom walks you to your bedroom, you can feel his hardness through his joggers and you groan into the kiss, hands moving to tug on his messy curls. He growls at that, nipping your bottom lip before pulling back to catch his breath, both of you are panting, desperate for air. Tom throws you on the bed, your robe practically off at this point, before climbing on top of you, reconnecting his lips to yours. You run your fingers through his hair before gripping tufts of his curls, Tom’s own hands running down your body to your hips, his index finger moving to your inner thigh, caressing your skin and inching closer and closer to your underwear. You lift your hips up in response to his teasing, moaning against his lips. Tom’s tongue runs along your lower lip as his finger dips into your underwear, feeling your wetness as his tongue caresses your own. You whine against his lips, having enough of his teasing, Tom taking the hint, pulling back and chuckling at you as he undoes the tie on your robe, sliding the silk fabric further open and exposing the rest of your skin and the lacy set you’re wearing. He bites his lip looking down at you, you lift up and slide your robe fully off, throwing it across the room before pulling him into you for another fiery kiss.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Tom groans against your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist and his hips grinding into yours. One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing the skin before spanking you. You moan against his lips, Tom pulling away to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. “You know how much I like this set on you, don’t you love?”

“Yes, Tom, now fuckin’ get on with it,” you shoot a look at him as he stops his ministrations, causing him to smirk and wink at you. Tom goes back to kissing along your chest, your head rolling back against the sheets, one hand wrapped in his curls as Tom’s own move to your breasts, cupping them as he sucks a hickey on your skin.

“Someone’s needy today,” Tom laughs breathily, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. When he slides the lace fabric off your body his tongue circles your nipple, making you moan.

“Wonder why,” you retort, moaning as Tom’s hand wanders down to your underwear. He rubs your clit through your panties as he continues kissing and sucking the skin on your chest. Tom moves further down your body, cool lips meeting hot skin as he kisses down your torso, along the hem of your panties. He looks up into your eyes as he takes your underwear between his teeth, pulling them down your thighs. You kick them off, Tom kissing your inner thighs as you do so. You feel his hands move to your hips, then in a swift motion, Tom flips you so you’re hovering above his face, his hands still on your hips. You let out a gasp, and Tom pulls you down to his awaiting tongue, immediately licking a strip through your wet folds.

“Already so wet for me?” Tom smirks up at you.

“Shut up,” you groan, one hand reaching for the headboard as your other hand moves to Tom’s hair. He runs his tongue through your folds again, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips grind against his face, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks, giving each a slap for good measure. You’re a moaning mess above him, moving with his tongue as he continuously flicks your clit, your hips picking up their pace as Tom’s own increases. He looks up at you, your head rolling back as your back arches and your thighs quake, hips juttering as you get closer and closer to that sweet release.

Tom pulls away just long enough to say, “cum for me, darling,” before his tongue is back on your dripping pussy, tasting all of you as he coaxes you to your orgasm. You let out your loudest moan of the evening as you cum on his tongue, hips moving rapidly and hand gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white, whilst your other hand grips Tom’s curls keeping his head in place. Tom’s hands are gripping your ass so hard you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark, and he gently licks through your folds as you come down form your high, your grip on the headboard releasing. You lift up off of Tom’s face, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You let out a moan against his lips, your kiss a mess of tongue and teeth as you move down his body to straddle him, feeling the material of his joggers under you. Your hands move to the hem of Tom’s t shirt, he pulls away from the kiss just long enough to take his t shirt off, pulling you back in by your neck. Your hands fiddle with his joggers as you pull them down just enough so Tom can kick them, and his boxers, off. The kiss is sloppy and rushed, a passionate clash of teeth and tongue as you focus on what your hands are doing. When Tom’s clothes are completely off, you move your hips, gliding your wet folds on his hard cock, Tom letting out a whimper into the kiss. You continue teasing him like that for a while, getting him worked up and ready for you.

“Please just ride me, now!” He groans as he bites your lower lip. You chuckle, kissing him again before reaching behind you, gripping the base of Tom’s cock and lining it up with your pussy. You lower your hips down on him, your hands come to rest on Tom’s toned chest. You sink down fully on his cock, biting your lip as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him inside you, finally. You lift your hips up before lowering them back down, getting into a steady rhythm. You can feel Tom’s hard chest covered by his smooth skin, and you’re reminded of the picture again. You’re here, riding Thomas Holland; something many people could only dream of. And that gives you a sense of cockiness. You begin to ride him faster, your wetness perfectly lubricating him, and Tom moans at your tightness.

“Feels so good, Tommy,” you moan, mouth agape as your hips move faster. Tom’s hands are gripping your hips, helping your movements. The room is full of lewd noises; your wet pussy and the moans from the two of you accompanying, skin slapping skin as you ride Tom. He’s moaning, his eyes on where your hips meet his own, and when you clench down on him his head rolls back, letting out a loud moan.

“So tight and wet, fuck, baby,” he groans out, completely in bliss at the feeling of your cunt around him. Tom decides he’s had enough of your teasing; your switching of a fast pace to a slower, more sensual one. He wants to make you cum again, so he grips your hips, pulls you in for a kiss and flips the two of you over. You yelp, giggling as Tom smiles down at you; but it soon turns into a moan when he slides his cock back deep inside of you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of his tip hitting your g spot. You bite your lip, a quiet ‘fuck’ leaving your mouth as Tom quickens his pace, hips slapping against your own as he fucks into you, his eyebrows furrowed as he does so, hair messed up and sweat dripping down his chest. He looks like an adonis. You pull him down by his hair, kissing him to keep yourself quiet, but it’s no use, Tom’s cock feels so good inside you that you’re moaning more frequently than ever; you grip his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom’s pace never falters, only egging him on further.

“Fuckin’ amazing pussy, jesus,” Tom’s breathless, his orgasm fast approaching. You bite his earlobe, causing his eyes to roll back as he hisses. “Get on your stomach for me, babe.”

You do as told, Tom pulling out so you can reposition. You lay on your stomach, hips up and arms out in front of you. You feel Tom move behind you, his hand slapping your ass cheek as his other grips your hip, guiding his cock back into your soaking cunt. You moan as he bottoms out, cock hitting deeper than before. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Tom picks up his pace, fucking you from behind in a fervour. Your raspy moans, along with Tom’s deep groans, and the sound of your wetness fills the room.

“Fuck, Tom!” Is all you can say, and all you can do is moan.

“Gonna cum, shit,” Tom’s pace never falters, hitting your g spot repeatedly he snaps his hips against your own. Reaching down he grips your hair in a fist, pulling your body up against his. You moan again, eyes rolling back as Tom’s hand snakes around to choke you, his other moving to rub circles on your clit, his voice in your ear as you both breathily moan, Tom’s cock fucking up inside your tight cunt. You’re close; you feel your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching.

“You gonna cum for me, love?” Tom whispers, voice raspy and taut. He’s fucking you so well, you can barely find the words; your own hips fucking back to meet Tom’s as you moan out; “yes, Tommy! I’m coming!” Tom’s lips are on your neck just below your ear as you cum, his hand holding you up against his toned torso. You clench on him again, Tom’s own orgasm following shortly after, he lets out a strained groan as his hips sloppily thrust up into you. “Fuck, gorgeous, you’re so good.”

You collapse forward, Tom chuckling as you do so. He gently pulls out, fingers reaching between your legs to collect his cum. He brings them up to your lips, letting you wrap them around his digits and tasting him, you twirl your tongue around his fingers to clean them. “So hot,” he bites his lip, you smirking up at him, winking. Tom makes his way to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room you’re on your side, hand under your pillow as you snuggle into the sheets. Tom admires the sight for a moment, before shaking himself out of it, moving to kneel on the bed beside you. He’s wearing his boxers again now, hand moving to clean up the mess between your thighs. Tom gives your ass another slap for good measure, noticing there are marks all over your body from his lips and hands. “Sorry about that,” he nods to the hickies littering your chest and the marks on your ass. You smirk up at him, and judging by the look in his eyes, he’s not sorry at all.

“You should thirst trap on instagram more often.” You wink.

“I will if it leads to this.”

#okay #this is queued #so #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland headcanon #fwb!tom holland #fwb!tom

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