Could I request an angst fic based on Olivia Rodrigo's song, in which Y/N L/N likes Fred Weasley, but Fred Weasley likes Angelina Johnson, and the reader/Y/N just watches from the sidelines while the boy she's in love with falls for someone else?
Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this
The one thing that I want | Fred Weasley x Reader
Summary: You and Fred have been friends for years, you're in love with him, he's not.
Content: angst, friends to lovers but they never become lovers, one-sided love
w.c: 1.8k+
author notes: thank you so much for the request! I definitely felt the hurt while writing this because I, too, am in love with my best friend who is definitely not interested in me. oops
divider by: @strangergraphics
I’ve known you for so long, you are a friend of mine
Is what you begin to write in Fred Weasley’s Christmas card, the only one that you haven’t finished.
You’ve been troubled by the word “friend”, it just seems so… insufficient
But is that all we ever could be?
Is what you decide on writing afterwards, before snapping back to reality, realizing that you could never give that to him. Frustrated, you rip the card into pieces and grab a fresh piece of parchment paper.
“Hey, mate” a familiar voice chirps from behind you, interrupting the serenity of the library
“Don’t call me mate” you sigh, looking at your favourite redhead, not liking the platonic implication of that word
“Fine. Hi, bud”
You glare in response
“Kiddo?”
“No”
“Bro?”
“No!”
“Sis?”
“Fred.” you warn
“Then what do you want me to call you?” he questions, throwing his hands into the air
You know you’re being difficult, but hearing the man that you have been in love with for years call you the same nicknames that he uses with his little siblings is very disheartening
You just shrug in reply and like always, Fred remains indifferent to your little outburst
“Are we still on for Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he asks, raising his eyebrows
“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”
“I invited a couple of people from the quidditch team - George, Angelina, Katie. The usual”
“oh” you try to hide your disappointment
You were looking forward to hanging out with only him, that way you could pretend that you’re on a date
Stupid. You think to yourself
You're Pathetic.
If he noticed the shift in your mood, he doesn’t act on it.
He just pulls out a chair and starts pitching his new prank to you, persuading you to join him and George in its execution
You knew you would say yes the moment he sat down but you feign uncertainty because you enjoy watching him speak
You love the way his eyes dart from side to side when he gets excited, or the way he plays with the corner of the piece of parchment paper you were writing on, or the way that he never stops smiling throughout the entire conversation
You watch him intently, appreciating the warmth you instantly feel whenever you’re around him
That is until you begin to notice that his eyes suddenly remain fixed on a space above your shoulder and that his smile has relaxed, just a notch, almost as if he’s trying to look alluring
You feel your stomach drop as you turn around, secretly praying that what captured Fred’s attention was George doing something stupid or Ron attempting to flirt with a girl
Your heart breaks when you see Angelina Johnson, talking to Katie Bell, glancing in Fred’s direction
God, Angelina is so beautiful. She’s so intelligent, she’s so kind, she’s so perfect
And she’s got Fred’s interest.
You know that man well enough to know that he pursues what he wants, and that what he wants is not you
Fred is still talking to you, but it’s no longer passionate, rather, it’s more automatic. So you mumble out an excuse before getting up to leave
Despite your better judgement, you look over your shoulder to see if he’s following you
He’s not.
———
You fight the urge to throw your books at the wall out of anger. Not at Fred, not at Angelina, but at yourself.
You can’t help thinking about the what-ifs - what if you confessed first? what if he also wanted to ruin the friendship all these years? but what if he was never interested in you at all? what if he’s always only ever see you as a friend?
At that moment, Angelina walks into your dorm, Katie in tow, talking about how Fred asked her to the yule ball
and how she said yes.
You can't help but loathe her lately, even though its against your better judgement. She hasn't done anything wrong.
She then proceeds to act out Fred’s yule ball proposal and her eyes land on you, registering your presence
“Hey, your hair looks really nice today” Angelina says, with a genuine smile on her face
She means well, but her compliments feel like a slap on the face, like bullets on your skin
You thank her and walk out before you throw up
———
To your annoyance, the common room was filled with discussions of the same topic, except, this time, from the other perspective
Your eyes fill with tears while Fred, in between jokes, casually inserts comments of admiration about Angelina
The comments may be imperceptible to most, but you notice everything about Fred Weasley
You notice how he his voice lilts every time he says her name, or how he starts pacing out of excitement each time he remembers that he’s going to the ball with her
You’ve never seen him this genuine before, you’ve never seen him be genuine for anyone before
You rapidly blink to stop your eyes from watering as he spots you and crosses the room towards you
“Who’s the most charming man in this room?” He starts, voice filled with pride
“It’s completely unbelievable that she agreed to go to the ball with you, are you sure you didn’t threaten her entire bloodline?” you tease, unable to mask the hope in your voice
“Very funny” he retorts, ruffling your hair before his eyes land on Angelina, walking into the room with a satisfying stride, her luscious locks flowing behind her
You try to swallow as you look at yourself, thinking that your features completely lack in comparison to hers
He immediately walks in her direction, leaving you alone, and throws his arm around her shoulders
She shrugs it off but stays in his vicinity, sitting down way too close to him, leaning into him as the night progresses
You try to stay for as long as you can, lingering around them, watching but hidden in plain sight
———
You find yourself in the astronomy tower, not even remembering how you got there, staring over the ledge, thoughts consumed by that insufferable ginger boy
“Hey kiddo” someone whispers
You breath catches, but you realize that the voice that greeted you has a slightly darker tone than the one you wanted to hear
“Hi George” you sigh
“Well don’t sound so disappointed”
You offer him a small smile
“I knew I was right” he says, almost to himself
“What?”
“Remember second year? I said that you and Fred should date. You were very adamant, you said you were just friends”
You don’t reply, still unwilling to admit it
“A friend of Fred’s wouldn’t cry over him finding a girlfriend”
“I know”
“So you do like him?”
“Does it really matter if I do?”
“Hey, admitting it might make you feel better”
“I don’t think anything could make me feel better”
George just laughs and puts his arm around you, letting you cry into his shoulder
———
It’s late when you get back to the common room, following George inside
You’re greeted by the painful sight of Angelina sleeping on Fred’s shoulder
He looks at you and his brother questioningly, but to your disappointment, its not out of jealousy, just curiosity
George trips on a book, waking up Angelina, who greets you both and kisses Fred on the cheek before going back to your shared dorm
You start to follow her before George pulls you back and says “I think you two need to talk”
Fred looks confused so George drags him off the couch and pushes him in your direction
“What’s going on?” He asks you, already half-asleep
You just lead him out of the common room and sneak out to take a walk around the grounds
As you walk beside him, you get whiff of Angelina’s perfume and a tear escapes your eye
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on?”
Fred stops you in the middle of the corridor
“Do you like her?” you whisper
“I’m crazy about her” He replies instantly, clearly ready to break off on a tangent and talk about her again
But when you don’t say anything for 10 minutes, he says “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy for me”
“You’re so oblivious Fred”
“What?”
“For as long as I have known you, I have cared for you”
“I care about you too, you’re my best fr- ”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Fred. Isn't it obvious? The way I help you with every prank, the way I drop everything when you want to talk to me, the way I treat you compared to the way I treat your brother?”
“I- ”
“I love you, Fred. I have loved you for as long as I have known you. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, the reason why you haven't made any romantic advancements towards me is because you weren’t ready for a relationship. I was hoping that one day, you would love me”
Your voice cracks, and Fred just stares
“I’m an idiot, Fred. A complete git”
“You’re not. I am. I’m stupid for not realizing it earlier, and I’m sorry” he sooothes
The tears are streaming down your face, no end in sight, and you realize that no matter what, friends are really all you’ll ever be.
He tries to rectify the conversation by inserting jokes, making a snide comment about Malfoy's hair, and one about how Ron falls each time he makes it within two feet of Fleur Delacour
But when you don't react, he falls quiet, his feeble attemps at salvaging your friendship dissipating
For the first time, Fred Weasley is speechless
“I’m so sorry” he repeats continously, pulling you into a hug
You melt into his touch, waiting for the words you want to hear
I love you too
I want you, not Angelina
Be my date to the yule ball instead
But they never come.
Instead, Angelina’s scent becomes stronger by the second, and you push him away - harder than you intended
He has a broken expression on his face, and as you look at him through tears, you know what the outcome of this conversation will be
As much as you try to deny it, you know that Fred Weasley will no longer be in your life because you're not strong enough to be around him, knowing that your love for him will never be reciprocated.
The days that follow are filled with you staring at Angelina and Fred, noticing the vast difference between you and the girl who makes your stomach knot
Everyday, it becomes clear why Fred fell for her, why he didn't choose you
You can’t help but compare yourself to her, the jealousy oozing whenever your eyes fall on her perfect smile, knowing that she’s got the one thing you’ve always wanted.
She’s got Fred.
likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! 🤍
a night out for garcia's birthday is just what the team needs. that is, until you get drunk and spill your feelings to spencer.
pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader
genre: fluff, a bit of angst
content: drinking, fem!reader, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress, miscommunication of sorts (oops), fluff, drunken kisses, a teeny tiny bit of angst, confessions, mutual pining, happy ending, not proofread
wc: 3k
a/n: ummmm maybe i like miscommunication. this scenario lives rent free in my mind (that and jealous!spencer... perhaps that needs to come soon). likes/reblogs/comments are SO appreciated (i giggle and kick my feet whenever i get any kind of comment on my fics), asks/requests are open! :)
my masterlist!
Spencer is knee deep in paperwork when he receives the invitation.
"Hello, gorgeous people!" Garcia sings, flouncing into the bullpen, her skirt swishing around her. Spencer thinks that she might have a little too much energy, but you immediately smile.
"Hey, Pen," you greet her, setting your pen down and rolling back from your desk. "You're in a good mood."
"And why shouldn't I be, considering that it's my birthday this weekend!" She beams, throwing her hands out dramatically in a bout of jazz hands. "And every single one of you are coming out with me to the bar this weekend."
Morgan cheers, coming up behind Garcia. "Oh, hell yes! Great idea, mama." He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest.
Oh no. Going somewhere loud, crowded, and probably horribly contaminated with germs, just to watch other people drink and have to call them taxis at the end of the night? His brow creases, and he quickly speaks up. "Actually, I have-"
Garcia fixes him with a sharp glare, and he snaps his mouth shut. "No exceptions," she says, and you grin at her adamant tone.
"It's gonna be fun, Spence," you tell him, leaning your head back to give him a big smile. His heart beats a little faster in his chest. "We can all get all dressed up, and go dancing, and get drinks-"
Garcia squeals. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes. See, someone gets my vision," she exclaims, clapping her hands together. "It's settled. And mandatory," she says, shooting Spencer another look. Spencer gives a resigned sigh, grumbling under his breath.
You roll your chair over to his, bumping his shoulder with yours gently. "It'll be fun, Spence," you repeat, tilting your head to give him another one of your blinding smiles, and Spencer is grateful that he's sitting down, or otherwise his knees might have given out. "We'll stick together, yeah?"
Spencer manages a weak smile, and who is he to deny you, when you're sitting there and smiling at him all sweet and hopeful. "Yeah," he agrees, nodding. "It'll be... it'll be fun."
---
Spencer was not having fun.
The bar was grimy, just as he had expected, and he's shoved into a booth with Morgan, JJ, and Will, who are making casual conversation and yelling over the music. Spencer is nursing the same beer that had been shoved into his hand the moment he walked in.
Someone had ordered round after round of shots, but he had dumped his in a nearby potted plant. There was already a headache tugging at the back of his mind from the bass pounding in his ears, and he's not particularly keen on making it worse. Everyone else is fairly tipsy.
You, Emily, and Penelope are especially tipsy, and Spencer can't tear his eyes away from where the three of you are dancing together. You're wearing a dress, a short little thing that swishes around your hips every time you move, and Spencer is pretty sure he's losing his mind. His breath catches when you laugh, your eyes crinkled, your head thrown back, hair cascading over your bare shoulders.
"You're staring, man." A voice interrupts his thoughts, and he looks over to see Morgan looking at him with a shit-eating grin.
Spencer's cheeks heat up, and he takes a small sip of his beer. "Shut up. Was not."
"Were too," Morgan shoots back smugly.
Spencer can't help but roll his eyes, sinking down in his seat. "Whatever."
Morgan laughs, tapping his beer bottle against Spencer's. "It's not a bad thing, you know. That you were staring. Little miss thing over there has some moves."
"I wasn't-" Spencer starts to protest, but Morgan gives him a look.
"Seriously, man? Trying to fool the room full of profilers?" Morgan raises an eyebrow. "You know, I think the whole world knows you have your eye on her."
Spencer's eyes widen a fraction, and he begins to sputter. "But-"
"Relax, man," Morgan grins. "Everyone in the whole world, except for her."
It's that moment when the three of you make your way back to the table, a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, laughing loudly. You flop down next to Spencer, taking a big swig of your drink.
"I can't believe you guys didn't want to dance with us," you pout, giving Spencer your best puppy dog eyes.
"We prefer to watch, pretty girl," Morgan pipes up, giving you a wink, and you giggle. Spencer nudges into Morgan's shoulder, giving him a look that very clearly says knock it off.
"I'm not much for dancing," Spencer mutters, trying not to look directly at you. He feels like he's in the presence of the sun, burning bright and shiny and hot, and looking at you for too long will make him go blind.
You lay your temple against his shoulder, sighing, and Spencer tenses. You're drunk, he reminds himself. You don't know what you're doing. You'd never offer affection this freely if you were sober.
"That's okay," you murmur, your voice far too soft for the chaotic environment of the bar. "The more people that were dancing, the hotter it would be, and then I would get all sweaty and gross. So it's really a good thing, honestly."
Spencer knows you're trying to make him feel better, and his heart clenches. You're speaking right into his ear, your breath tickling his skin, and he doesn't know if he's ever felt so aware of his surroundings.
"You could never be gross," he says back, his voice just as soft as yours. You let out a huff of a laugh, and he feels it on his neck.
"You have to say that cause you're my friend," you tell him, wrinkling your nose. Your face is flushed, from both the dancing and the alcohol, and he wants to reach out and smooth the creases from your eyebrows.
"I'd say it even if I wasn't," he responds, and he has to fight the urge to wrap his arm around you, to pull you closer into his side and keep you there.
Emily arrives back at the table, brandishing a tray with yet another round of shots. You cheer, sitting up, and Spencer immediately misses the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder. She passes them out, grinning, and you toss yours back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
Spencer pretends to take his as well, tipping his chin back and grimacing, and pours it into the potted plant. That poor plant, he thinks. If plants could get drunk, this one certainly would be. Luckily, it looks to be some kind of snake plant, he thinks. Hardy, and can withstand the dehydrating effects of the alcohol.
You turn to smile at him, your eyes slightly glassy, your hair mussed and your gaze unsteady. "It's good to see you let your walls down a bit," you tell him, gesturing to the empty shot glass in front of him. Spencer conjures up a smile, forcing it wider than it would normally be while he's sober.
"Yeah," he mutters, shrugging his shoulders. "Seemed like a good night to let loose."
He doesn't like lying to you, but he knows if he didn't at least pretend to drink, the team would be pushing shots into his hand. And besides, you look so happy at the prospect of him relaxing, that he can't quite bring himself to tell you. Spencer takes another tiny sip of his beer, turning his attention to the rest of the team's conversation.
---
About an hour and another round of shots later (sorry, plant), Spencer is all but ready to call it quits and retreat to his apartment for the night. You're ridiculously drunk, your voice a little too loud and right in his ear. You've decided that the best use of your time is hanging onto Spencer's arm, and he can't say that he's complaining.
You're in some kind of animated discussion with Emily, the content of which he hasn't been paying attention to, too focused on the way your lips wrap around the syllables of the words, the way your eyes are lit up. He's hyperaware of the fact that he's staring. You're too drunk to notice.
"No, and then- and then he said-" You break off into a fit of giggles, slumping back into your seat, bringing Spencer's arm with you. He doesn't stop you, just watches as your brow furrows suddenly in concern.
"Jesus, I'm so nauseous," you moan, clutching tighter to Spencer's arm. He can feel his muscles tense.
"Okay, let's get you home," he murmurs, gently extracting his arm from your embrace, and helping you out of your chair. He's met with a round of boos from the team, but silences them with a glare.
"Thank you both for celebrating with me," Garcia says sweetly, batting her eyelashes.
You wrap her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Like I would ever miss my favorite girl's birthday," you tell her, your voice dripping with fondness. She hugs you back, her movements a bit uncoordinated, but affectionate all the same.
Once you've finished with your goodbyes, you slip your hand carefully into Spencer's, and he can feel his shoulders tense up, his cheeks begin to color. You're drunk, he thinks again, a silent mantra.
"Alright," he says softly, tugging on your hand gently, leading you outside of the bar. The cool night air feels fantastic on your flushed skin. "Let's call you a cab, yeah?"
While Spencer fumbles with his phone, presumably calling a cab, you watch him. You lean against the brick wall of the bar, tilting your head. The street lamps cast a soft, orange glow across Spencer's face, and you find yourself wanting to trace the shadows of his cheekbones with your fingertip. His long, dark eyelashes fan out over his cheeks when he blinks. When he looks back over at you, his lips quirking up in a soft smile, revealing a dimple on the side of his mouth, you forget to breathe.
"Cab's on its way," he tells you, leaning against the wall next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. Does he even know how pretty he is? You wonder. He has to know, right?
You turn your head to look at him, and the glint of the streetlight catches on one of his curls. You reach up, unconsciously, tucking it gently behind his ear, and you leave your hand there.
His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and you watch in fascination as the tips of his ears turn pink to match his cheeks. You mistake it for the effects of the alcohol, or perhaps the cold air of the night.
"What are you doing?" Spencer asks, his words barely a breath. Your eyes follow the path of your fingers as you run them down his cheek, coming to land on the side of his neck.
"I don't know," you whisper, and you tilt your chin up, your nose brushing against his, and you press your lips gently to his.
It's soft, chaste, maybe a bit awkward, and Spencer's heart stops in his chest. He freezes, barely daring to breathe, as your lips move against his. His lips are chapped, from chewing on them insistently when he reads, and warm, and you've never felt anything more perfect in your life.
Spencer's hands come up to grip your shoulders, and you think he's finally going to respond, to kiss you back.
He pushes you back, not aggressively, but decidedly removing your lips from his. His lips are pink, glistening with spit, and he looks gorgeous.
The next thing you notice is the stricken look on his face.
"You're drunk," Spencer whispers, his eyes big and shocked and sad. You feel your heart sink in your chest.
Shit. Shit, he doesn't want this, doesn't want you. This was a terrible idea, and now you've ruined the friendship, lost your friend-
"You're drunk," he repeats, his voice firmer now. Spencer takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you. Your eyes water.
"So are you," you say weakly, your voice threatening to be carried away by the wind. Spencer can see the tears pooling in your eyes, the feeling of rejection washing over you, and he hates himself for it.
"I'm not-" he begins, but what he's not, you never get the chance to hear. A cab pulls up to the side of the road, and Spencer takes another step back from you.
"Your cab," he says quietly, gesturing to the car. He takes you by the elbow, and opens the door for you. He helps you into the cab, handing the driver a few bills. When did he get those out?
Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, biting your lip so hard that it threatens to spill blood. You don't care. You want it to hurt, to reflect the state of your heart.
"Text me when you get home safe," Spencer murmurs, closing the door after you. He taps the top of the cab, and the car peels away from the curb.
Spencer sighs, raking both of his hands through his hair and down his face. You're drunk. You're drunk, he thinks. You absolutely never would have done that if you were sober. You thought he was drunk, too. His mind is racing, his heart pounding. It's not like you'll even remember this in the morning.
---
It's Monday morning, and you're ignoring Spencer.
Okay, maybe ignoring is a strong word. You've been cordial, polite, but still terse, greeting Spencer with a tight lipped smile and none of your usual bubbly enthusiasm. You had already had a cup of tea on your desk, and hadn't bothered to drop by his desk with a freshly brewed cup of coffee like you usually do, followed by a snippy comment about the amount of sugar it contained.
Spencer hates it.
Hates it, and can't quite figure it out. Are you embarrassed? Obviously you remember something, otherwise you wouldn't be so cold. Do you regret it? Do you think he took advantage of you? You had definitely initiated the kiss, so that couldn't be it. Right?
It's driving him insane.
As soon as the clock hits five, you've slung your bag over your shoulder, making a beeline out of the bullpen, without saying goodbye. Spencer scrambles to follow, shoving a couple of papers into his messenger bag and walking as fast as he can out of the bullpen without breaking into a dead sprint.
"Hey," he calls after you, but you don't turn. "Hey!"
He catches up to you, grabbing onto your shoulder and turning you to face him. Your face is carefully neutral.
"Oh, hi," you say, flashing him the same, tight lipped smile. It doesn't reach your eyes, doesn't make the corners of your eyes crinkle like he loves. "I didn't hear you behind me."
Spencer knows that's a lie, but he lets it slide. "I needed to talk to you. About last weekend."
You let out a laugh, but it's forced and high pitched and wrong. "Oh, yeah. Crazy night, huh?"
Spencer stares at you, waiting for you to say something else, but you just fidget uncomfortably.
"You kissed me," he says finally, his eyes boring holes into your face.
You wince. You were hoping he was drunk enough that he forgot, that things could go back to normal, like he didn't push you away and shatter your heart.
"I'm so sorry," you rush out. "I was drunk, like, ridiculously drunk, and you were there, and you were drunk too, and-"
"I wasn't," Spencer interrupts. His gaze is intense, and he takes a step forward, almost toe to toe with you. You have to tilt your chin back to look at him.
"You... weren't...?" You ask weakly, suddenly hating yourself even more. Great, so he was fully conscious, when you embarrassed yourself.
"No," he says softly, shaking his head. "But you were. And it wouldn't have been... right. To kiss you like that."
Your heart beats a little faster, your stomach swooping. "Oh."
Spencer huffs out a laugh, the tips of his ears turning the same shade of pink from that night. It's more vibrant in the fluorescent lighting of the BAU's hallway. He reaches up, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "That's not really how I wanted our first kiss to go, if I'm being honest."
"You've... thought about it?" You squeak, your cheeks flushing at how vulnerable you sound. He's holding your heart in his hands, has been for weeks, and he has no idea.
"Yeah," he breathes, nodding. "I usually imagine it at your doorstep, after I've taken you on a really lovely and romantic date, but I guess life works out in funny ways."
You're pretty sure you've stopped breathing, your eyes darting between his gaze and his lips, and you lick your lips unconsciously.
"I wanted to kiss you," Spencer whispers. "I did. I promise. Just... not while you were drunk."
You go up onto your toes, brushing your lips against his hesitantly, with none of the confidence of the first kiss you had shared outside the bar.
But this time, Spencer kisses you back.
His lips move against your own, his hand coming up to curl into the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, and every single thought flies out of your head. All you can think about is him.
There's a tiny bit of tongue, just a brush of his tongue along the seam of your lips, but before you can open your mouth eagerly, he's pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, and you can see a faint, barely there freckle on the bridge of his nose. You want to kiss it.
You do, taking his face in your hands and tilting it down, pressing a kiss along the bridge of his nose, because you can. Spencer rewards you with a laugh, the sweetest sound you've ever heard.
"How's that for a do over?" Spencer asks, his grin lopsided, his eyes shining. You pull him down for another kiss, smiling against his mouth.
"Yeah, it was alright," you tease, lacing your fingers with his. God, this feels right.
"I do believe that I was promised another kiss, though. After a really lovely and romantic date?" Spencer laughs again, his face bright and happy.
Summary: Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off.
Word count: 1k
Warnings: None! Maybe some language but I tend to do that with modern AUs oops
a/n: Me 🤝 eventually turning to AUs for every fandom. Anyways I think I'm setting this up for a cute little series thing with oneshots because I am inspired ✨ enjoy!!
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
“Come on,” Cassian scoffed with an exasperated tilt of his head. “She is totally into you.”
Azriel threw his friend a look, wiping his hands on the apron tied at his waist. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t care? When’s the last time you got laid, man?”
“Last night,” Azriel simply replied. He moved the prepped onions from the counter to the fridge. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“What? You didn’t tell me that,” Cassian pouted, pausing his spatula on the grill.
Azriel huffed out a breathy laugh, taking up his post at the prep table once more. “Do I need to tell you every detail of my sex life, Cass? Would that help you get it up? I know you struggle.”
“Hey,” Cassian called out, brows raised as Azriel met his gaze. “Fuck you. Who was it, then?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t the barely legal host you won’t stop trying to set me up with,” Azriel grumbled.
“Dude, she’s literally 26.”
“She doesn't look 26.”
The order bell ringing punctuated the end of the pointless conversation between the two men. In truth, Cassian knew Azriel would never be interested in the new host who had been giving him eyes for the past week. Azriel was never interested in the hosts or the waitresses or even any of the customers. But he would never share why.
Cassian had grown sick of it.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched Azriel grab the ticket off the order wheel. He flicked the paper with a small hum, heading to the stove and lighting the burner.
“Fess up,” Cassian urged, plating the burger for table 12 before tossing the towel on his shoulder into the sink. “You act all mysterious but I’m not an idiot. All the girls on staff basically throw themselves at you and you ignore them. They go on and on about your tattoos even though I have just as many. Gwyn even had her hand on your chest last week and you brushed her off with that awkward pat thing you do.”
“The mean waitress doesn’t throw herself at me,” Azriel replied. He had yet to look up from the pan sizzling at his fingertips.
“Oh shut up. Nesta doesn’t count.”
“Well, you said all so…”
“I swear to god, Az, I’m going to hit you right in that pretty face of yours—what the hell are you making?” Cassian interrupted himself, whipping around from the send-out counter to inspect the odd combination of ingredients being thrown in the pan.
“An order,” Azriel stated. “I feel like you should be working.”
“I am working, asshole,” Cassian grumbled.
Azriel made a noncommittal sound and slid an omelette from the pan onto a plate. He grabbed a handful of spices from the cabinet above and continued to work on the meal. Cassian’s confusion only heightened.
“We don’t make omelettes past noon. It’s dinner. Why the hell did you make an omelette?” Cassian asked, trailing after his friend as he pushed past the swinging kitchen door. “And where the hell are you going?”
“Will your curiosity ever be satisfied?” Azriel droned. “I’m clearly walking this plate out to table eight. Go back into the kitchen. The Walters were just seated and you know they order enough to feed an army.”
Cassian ignored him, staying uncharacteristically silent as he set the intention to spy on his coworker. He let his feet stick at the entrance to the dining room, giving him a clear view of table eight and the girl with the backpack and laptop taking up its residence.
Azriel placed a steady hand on the back of the booth, his chest pressed against the girl’s shoulder as he brought the plate around and edged her laptop aside. The omelette was placed down in front of her, but Cassian was quick to notice that she didn’t even glance at it, her face turned up with a grin.
“Hi, baby,” Azriel greeted, a smile evident in his voice—a smile Cassian could hear from clear across the room. “Take a break. I made you dinner.”
“From the secret menu?” she asked with a giggle.
Cassian watched, in complete shock, as Azriel leaned down to press a long, drawn-out kiss to her temple. “Always.”
Cassian had a lot to say to that mysterious bastard.
warnings: jealousy, the c word (claire), pervy carmy but that’s a given, date gone wrong (pushy man & use of some force. nothing bad happens), guard dog carmy, small argument. nasty smut: themes of brat tamer carmy, female masturbation, teasing + condescending dirty talk, fingering, squirting, biting, kissing, unprotected sex (oops), slight size kink, he doesn’t choke her but he holds her neck, slight breeding kink, ok maybe not so slight, she gets fucked kind of stupid.
wc: 9.5k
a/n: thanks so much for the love on part one! let me know what u think of this one!! <3 enjoy the nastiness
playlist
the weeks that followed the soft touches and heated kisses were, to say the least, awkward.
carmen has never been the strongest communicator, and working long hours at the bear conveniently meant they didn’t really see much of each other.
unluckily for him, she conveniently seemed to be home when he had invited claire over to talk.
in his defense, it was a late night, heat of the moment decision. one in which he was caught in a weak spot–feeling lonely and, admittedly, thinking obsessively of his roommate. a decision he deeply regretted the following day, when he had checked his messages and saw she said yes.
claire came over for morning coffee when carmy decided to go into work late. she gave him a enthusiastic greeting when he opened the door, rushing forward to hug him. it didn’t feel right, but he reciprocated.
“so good to see you, carm,” she told him, warmly.
“hey, you too,” eyes glancing over to the clock beside the door, “you’re early.”
she pulled back, smiling.
“i thought you’d be happy to have more time with me.”
he gestured her in and shut the door. he hadn’t really wanted her to come at all once he woke up, but how could she have known that?
he felt stupid.
“i, am” he replied unenthusiastically, “but my, um…. my roommate is still home.”
“you have a roommate now?” she asked.
“yeah, just for a while. want to go outside?” he questioned, eyes darting to the stairs.
“can’t we just sit at the table? it’s cold out.” claire followed his gaze to the staircase.
he paused, sighing.
“okay, yeah. let’s sit at the table.” hand running through his hair, pulling slightly. he forced himself to sit and meet her gaze, asking her how she’s been, trying to pay attention. trying to care.
a few minutes into their conversation, he heard soft footsteps approaching from behind.
“goodmorning,” his roommate called out, smiling at claire. carmen whipped his head around. she was dressed for work. she looked good.
“oh. hi,” claire returned, “you’re carmy’s roommate?” the surprise evident in her voice.
“only short term,” she replied, shooting carmen a glance, “and you are?”
“i’m claire,” she returned with a smile, “i’m his-”
“she’s my friend.” carmy interrupted, watching as claire’s eyebrows shot up at this.
“umm, we’re a little more than friends,” claire laughed, turning to his roommate, “me and carm have known eachother since we were kids. and we dated for a while, didn’t we, bear?”
he watched as his roommate widened her eyes a bit, nodding.
“how sweet. you guys are so cute together, you should date again,” sickly enthusiasm rung from her voice, “nice to meet you claire, but i’ve gotta get to work.”
“so nice meeting you! i’ll see you around.”
his roommate didn’t respond, quickly walking to the kitchen to grab a thermos of coffee then rushing out the door, letting it slam behind her.
“she’s cute,” claire complimented, “should i be worried?” her tone joking, but still locking eyes with carmen. he stayed silent, rubbing a hand over his face, then exhaling.
he left for work as soon as she was out the door, trying to distract himself from the reminder of all the people he had hurt so early in the morning.
besides that tense interaction, he didn't see his roommate at all for about a week and a half.
that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still think about her, though. in fact, it felt like he couldn’t focus on anything else—the night of their hungry kisses and gentle touches playing like a loop in his head.
he thinks of how responsive she was, how her lips felt. how he longed to hear her beg for him.
almost two whole weeks passed, and he still wasn’t man enough to face her, making sure he was in the restaurant until late at night and out of the apartment extra early in the morning.
he scrubbed at the stovetop, remembering the smell of her skin. yearning for it. he stood at the expo and barked directions, skin prickling with the memory of her touch. the slight drag of her nails across his abdomen. how eager she was.
that morning, as the sun just began to flood through the windows, he found himself passing by her room, glancing through the open door.
he stopped himself as soon as he passed, taking a step backwards to get another look.
she lay sleeping on her side, facing away from him, one leg resting on top of the duvet. her breath was steadily rising and falling, big shirt was bunched up over her waist, allowing him the pleasure of gliding his eyes along the curve of her bare waist. he savors the moment, gaze gliding down to her hip, then falling on the little blue pair of underwear that clung to her ass.
and yes, he felt like a creep, but he still continued to stand there and watch her for a few minutes, wishing he could take a picture to remember the captivating sight.
instead he just forced himself to walk away.
it’s a long, stressful day of refires, late tickets, and continuous yelling.
carmen only gets home shy of midnight, basking in the still silence of the apartment as the door latches. he slips his coat off and hangs his keys on the hook—the key hook she put up, after the 5th time he had asked her if she had seen his keys.
hers were gone, surprisingly. he wonders where she could’ve been at midnight with a nervous uncertainty.
carmen makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a cold glass of water before walking over to the couch to collapse.
the living room was illuminated in a soft lamp light. he loved that there would be lights on when he came home. it felt less lonely, somehow.
his eyes glance around the room, noting the addition of potted plants, some throw pillows and blankets, art, framed pictures. some of her family, some of his.
it had thrown him off, a bit, to come home one day, before the awkwardness, to see a framed picture of him and mikey standing on one of the living room’s side tables. he hardly recognized the old picture, studying it with disbelief. on that day, he picked it up and walked to his roommate’s door, knocking softly.
“come in,” she had called.
he opened the door, and found her sitting at her vanity, combing her hair. he held up the picture, pointing to it.
“shit, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked,” she started to explain.
“-no, no, i was, uh, just a little surprised,” he reassured, “where did you get this from?”
she set her comb down on the vanity and turned to face him.
“it was in a box at the back of my closet,” she told him, “lots of pictures. i promise i didn’t go through it. that one was just at the top. and i thought it was sweet. i was just thinking since i have so many up of my family, you would-”
“-no, yeah. thank you. it was really nice of you,” he admitted, “just caught me off guard.”
she gave him a sympathetic smile.
he fondly recalls the memory as he studied the decorations. never before had his home felt so much like a home.
he lets his eyes shut slowly, basking in the comfort of the plush couch. around 20 minutes pass until he hears muffled voices from outside the unit, then the sound of keys fumbling with the lock.
his stomach drops a little at the thought of having to face her, so he keeps his eyes closed, hoping he could ignore the interaction all together. as the door swings open, he hears her voice.
“okay, thanks. i’ll see you around,” tiredness evident in her tone. then, a man’s voice.
“it’s a nice place. what’s the inside like?”
carmen feels a surge of annoyance. was she bringing men over?
“it’s, uh, nice too. i have to get up early tomorrow though, so-”
“we had a nice time, right? let’s keep it going.” the man’s tone becomes pushier. carmen’s annoyance turns to anger. who did this douchebag think he was? he hears his roommate release a sardonic chuckle.
“listen, dude, get out. i’m not interested.” her tone firm and assertive. carmen sits up slightly to peek over the couch.
“god, i can’t stand women like you,” the stranger retorts, “a $200 check, and you’re not even gonna invite me in?”
carmen watches as she tries to close the door. the man puts his arm out, aggressively pushing it back open. he sits up the rest of the way, having had enough of the interaction.
“hey fuckhead,” he barks. the stranger’s eyes dart to him, clearly surprised there was another person home.
“she said get out.” his jaw is tight, eyes wide, staring the man down. “we gonna have a fuckin’ problem?”
the stranger puts his hands up in defense, taking a step back.
“hey, no problem here, man. just trying to say goodni-”
she slams the door in his face, latching the deadbolt. the girl lets out a heavy sigh before glancing over to where carmen sits.
“thanks,” she mumbles, hanging up her keys and taking her jacket off. he glances over the skin-tight long sleeve dress she was wearing.
“who was that?” he asks immediately, trying to keep the hint of possessiveness out of his voice. she leans down to slide her heels off, glancing up at him.
“a date.”
he continues to stare at her, hoping she would elaborate. instead, she ignores him, walking to the kitchen and putting the tea kettle on to boil. he stands and follows her, brow twitching.
“you, uh, going on dates now?” he questions, hands coming to his hips.
“yep,” she curtly replies, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and placing a teabag inside.
“with guys like that, huh? nice.” he scoffs. the man has trouble rationalizing why he feels so aggravated.
“fuck off, carmen,” she sharply retorts, refusing to turn toward him, “it’s none of your business.”
“it is when you bring them here” he argues.
“what, like how you brought your little girlfriend over?” she yanks open the fridge and grabs the milk.
“she is not my girlfriend” he asserts.
the girl rolls her eyes and ignores him, turning the burner off at the sound of the kettle whistling, pouring the hot water into her mug. he moves closer to her, staring at the side of her face.
“she’s not,” he emphasizes. the added pressure makes her feel compelled to respond.
“well, she’s something to you,” she argues, setting the kettle back down harder than she intended, turning to face him. she immediately wishes she hadn’t, the intensity of his eyes setting her ablaze, skin prickling. it makes her a little weak in the knees to be face to face with him again, as much as she hated to admit it.
“no, she isn’t, i- fuck…i had this weak moment after…you and i kissed, and it-,” he exhales, pausing. “i didn’t realize how much i missed…that kind of thing. so i invited her over. and immediately fuckin’ regretted it when she said yes.”
“why?” she asks softly.
“why’d i regret it?” he clarifies. she nods.
he takes a small step closer to her.
“because i don’t want that kind of thing with claire,” he confesses.
she doesn’t know what to say, instead just watches him, studying his face. she catches the split second his eyes dart down to her lips, and feels what little resolve she has begin to crumble, so she turns away from him, back to her tea, and begins to stir in some milk.
“okay,” her reply comes softly, “i get it.”
“yeah?” he presses, eyes locked on her.
“yeah,” she responds, “i know how it feels. to get…lonely like that. so truce.”
he lets out a breath of relief, threading his fingers through his hair.
silence, for a moment. he watches her bring the hot drink up to her lips and take a small sip. carmy is the one to break the silence.
“is that, uh, the reason you’re going on dates, then?” he pries.
“what, because of loneliness?” she asks, warming her hands on the mug. he gives her a small nod, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“yeah. i guess so” she responds, “with these… weirdos that don’t let me know they’re weirdos until it’s too late.” her gaze fixes on a point in front of her, unfocused. she stays like this for a moment, then breaks her trance, eyes coming to carmy’s face. his sweet and handsome face.
“i’m really glad you were here, by the way.” she adds softly.
he doesn’t know what to say for a second, shaking his head. trying to push away the anxiety that came with what could’ve happened to her, had he not been on the couch at that exact moment.
“yeah. me too.” he replies soberly. she watches his serious expression, eyes locked. the girl can’t help but break out into a grin and softly giggle. she leans back against the counter.
“it was kinda sexy, too,” she quips, “watching you get all mad like that.”
carmy can’t help the smile that breaks his solemnity.
“fuck off,” he amuses, shaking his head. she begins to laugh. he likes it a lot.
“seriously,” she presses still smiling, “it was-…i liked it.” she gave a nod of her head.
he just keeps staring at her with a soft smile on his face.
“well i don’t wanna yell at anyone else. so no more guys over.”
“oh yeah?” her tone teasing, “it’s kind of your fault that i even went on a date in the first place” she chimes, taking another sip of tea.
“my fault?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
“yeah. i mean, i wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a…fucking tease.” she tells him, smiling against the lip of her mug
that was the last thing he expected her to say, letting out a small scoff at her bluntness.
“i’m the tease?” he asks in disbelief. if only she knew the relentless battles he fought internally from the second he first saw her. she’d been teasing him without knowing it for weeks.
“you wanted me to beg,” she reminds him, “and then, you left me. i had to fend for myself.”
he knew. he could hear her through the door.
“yeah, uh,” he fights the smile that creeps onto his face, “sorry about that.”
“that’s okay,” she replies, “cause i’m gonna give you payback.”
“payback?” he amuses, eyes creeping down her face, briefly falling to her chest and admiring the scoop neck dress she wore. okay, maybe not briefly.
she nods, stepping forward into his personal space, only inches apart. his eyes dart back up to meet hers. she keeps her gaze locked with his and slides her fingers under his white shirt, ghosting over the deep cut lines of his hips.
carmen’s breath stills as she hooks the waistband of his pants, leaning in to softly kiss his neck. she peppers sweet kisses up to his ear, then gently catches his lobe in between her teeth. her hands trail up, splaying across his stomach and feeling the firm muscle. carmen clenches his teeth as her lips begin moving along the base of his jaw.
she had barely touched him and yet that burning sensation begins to creep up his skin.
once her lips make it to his chin, she straightens and pulls him into her.
he feels his breath skip.
the girl hovers her lips over his, giving him only a light impression of touch. the front of her body is flush against his, and she can feel his hardness pressing into her.
carmy knows exactly what she’s doing, and he doesn’t feel entirely enthusiastic about being teased.
he glides his hand under her jaw, fingers carding through her hair and resting near the base of her skull. he grabs it tightly and she lets out a soft whimper, lips parting. the sound is too sweet for him to maintain his composure—he wants to taste it.
carmen pulls her into his lips impatiently, relishing the supple feeling of her mouth. their lips lock together desperately, kisses in tandem. with a last, slow kiss she pulls away with a small grin on her face. his hand still entangles with her hair, eyed fixated on her lips.
“that all you gonna give me?” he grumbles lowly.
she nods, “mmhm,” and her lip catches between her teeth.
his free hand comes to grab her side, thumb pressing into her hip bone. she arches into his touch, lids heavy, body increasingly hot. he meets her eyes.
“you’re…” he exhales, smile creeping at the edges of his lips, “you’re a little brat. y’know that?”
“you like it,” she argues softly.
she’s wrong, he thinks, he loves it.
she smooths her hand up his abdomen, fingers pressing into the firm muscle. he tenses under the rousing touch, then groans as she gently drags her nails down the length of his stomach.
she feels his bulge twitch against her pelvis.
the girl smiles at this, satisfied with her work of payback. she doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she pulls away completely.
he blinks a few times, processing the loss of heat, watching as she turns to walk out of the kitchen.
he almost follows her, too, but stops in his tracks when she calls goodnight.
fucking tease.
-
it was after 1am by the time the girl had showered and completed her nighttime routine, peeling back her duvet and slipping into the silky sheets.
she tried desperately to clear her mind over the past hour, having difficulty thinking of anything besides her roommate. anything besides how much she had turned herself on in the process of “payback”.
she lays flat on her back, then turns to her side. then she turns to the other side. then flat on her stomach. the girl releases a sigh of frustration. nothing was comfortable. every inch of her body felt hot. carmy’s lips felt so fucking good.
the heater is too loud. the streetlights are shining through the curtains. she wants to take him inside of her.
her hand sneaks underneath the duvet, brushing over her hardened nipples, trailing down her stomach and creeping under the waistband of her panties.
she thinks about how much she liked kissing him as she begins to drag her finger through her folds. she thinks about how he would always hold himself back. it was easy to tell—he would tighten his jaw and his eyes would get dark, giving her this look at her as if he wanted to devour her whole. she feels herself getting wet, beginning to circle around her clit, frustration at the dull ache within that seemed incurable no matter how much she tried to pleasure herself.
the girl feels so desperate laying in her bed that she decides she would take whatever carmen would give her.
even if that meant having to beg for it.
she rips her hand out of her panties and flings the duvet off of her, sharply exhaling as the cool surrounding air kisses her skin. she throws her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. maybe a cold glass of water would help.
the temperature drops as she exits her room. clad in only underwear and a cropped tank top, goosebumps begin to rise on her skin
as she makes her way down the hallway, curious eyes land on carmen’s cracked door. she stops and takes a peek inside.
the outside streetlights flood in through his window too, yet there he lay sleeping heavily, completely unbothered.
she pushes the door open a little more, just out of curiosity.
he lay on his back, shirtless, with an arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling steadily. watching him did nothing more than worsen the desire she felt.
she inches into the room almost uncontrollably, coming to stand next to his bed.
before she gains enough sense to turn away and leave, she peels back his sheets and slides in next to him. the man shifts a bit, then settles back into his slumber.
she feels kind of creepy just watching him, but he looks so incredibly handsome in his relaxed state, his plump lips parting with soft exhales.
she feels such little control over herself, thinking of how she wants to feel him. wants to taste his skin.
fuck it.
she slowly pulls the sheets down and off of him. he’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs and she can’t help but release a breath of anticipation at the sight. she leans forward and crawls over his sleeping form, straddling him, hands coming to his chest.
she watches as his head turns and his arm falls from his face, eyes blearily blinking open.
his eyes meet hers, a stunned expression on his face.
carmen thinks he’s dreaming at first—the sight above him all too similar to the filthy dreams he had been having lately.
“uh, hey” he hesitates, voice deep and raspy, heavy with sleep.
“hi,” she whispers.
his eyes scan over her form and take in her position. her lack of clothes. she can feel him growing beneath where she sits.
the girl smiles, giggling softly.
a lazy smirk grows on his face at this, and he closes his eyes again.
“fingers not doin’ it for you anymore?”
“shut up,” she retorts, slightly embarrassed. she hates how he knows. “i just wanted to…come see if you were sleeping well,”
carmy opens his eyes again and his smirk morphs to a grin, arms folding behind his head.
“i was” he confirms, lazily blinking, “but then i got, uh, woken up.”
“sorry” she sweetly exhales, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “i, um…” her eyes rake down his handsome face, losing her lame excuse completely. she’s silent, zeroed in on his lips with an overwhelming urge to kiss him. she watches them morph to a smile.
“c’mere,” he whispers, tilting his chin up a bit. she follows his command, almost as if in a trance, leaning forward to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.
it feels blissful, almost like everything besides the two of them fades away.
soft kisses become deep and the gentleness seems to fade as soon as it starts. the pair mutually quicken the pace of the kisses. they become messier, more desperate.
the girl leans into him, hand coming to the side of his neck, the other caressing his collarbones.
carmy chases her increasingly desperate kisses, gripping her hips with both hands, cherishing the feeling of her skin.
the girl slips her tongue into his mouth and gently moans at the feeling, with which he reciprocates, indulging in the taste of her. his fingers press into her bruisingly.
she rocks her hips against him. the sensation shoots a spark through her spine, so she continues to rock back and forth, grinding against his bulge, moaning softly into his mouth.
carmen kisses her roughly, gripping her hips tighter, pulling and pushing her across the length of his cock.
her panties feel slick, core feels tight, beginning to speed up her gyrations. she can feel the head of his cock through his briefs, and quickly becomes lost in the pleasure, kissing him with a ferocity she hasn’t felt in a long time.
the sensation is incredible to carmen, becoming more pent up by the second.
she bucks her hips wildly. it feels so fucking good.
he mindlessly tightens his grip on her hips further, and her kisses quickly stop. hips stop. with a sharp inhale and a soft “ow,” her hand comes to his wrist.
he immediately releases his grip, eyes snapping open.
“shit, i’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologizes, smoothing his hands over the yet-to-appear bruises—a reminder of why he had tried to force himself to take it slowly with her. “y’okay?” he couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“mhmm,” she confirms, leaning down to give him a soft kiss of reassurance. “so strong,” she murmurs into his lips. he releases the breath he was holding, hands still on her hips.
“can hardly fuckin’ control myself with you.” he admits guiltily.
“then don’t,” she replies softly, sitting upright.
carmen’s hand falls over his face, sighing. his fingers card through his messy hair, eyes scanning over the girl. a soft smile twitches at the edge of his lips.
the young woman sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves from the moment. her fingers thread under the edge of her tank top, and without saying anything, she slowly peels it over her head.
carmen groans at the reveal, and she feels a twitch underneath her. his hand comes to grab the side of her waist, thumb stroking over her stomach. he stares at her breasts in awe, trying desperately to memorize the dreamlike sight above him.
“you’re beautiful,” he marvels, hand sliding up her stomach to her ribs, “y’know that?” fingertips grazing the underside of her breast.
goosebumps rise on her skin from the light touch.
“touch me,” she tells him impatiently, pushing her chest out further as to emphasize.
the man lets out a small scoff at her tone, but gives in, cupping her breast and giving it a soft squeeze. he runs his thumb over her raised nipple, giving it a gentle pull.
she exhales harshly. it feels as if her blood had become hot, biting down on her lip to refrain from making noise.
carmy brings his hand to her other breast and repeats: a soft caress, then squeeze, then a tug of her nipple, harder this time. she bucks her hips at this, whimper muffled by the tightness of her teeth around her lip. carmen lets out a soft groan at the momentary friction.
he can feel the heat from her core over his thinly clothed erection as he touches her. the man marvels at her flushed skin, the curve of her breasts, the shape of her stomach, the expression of pleasure on her face.
she finds herself aching for the friction of a moment ago, giving another testing buck of her hips. so good.
her hands plant on his chest and she continues to slowly grind back and forth against him. the perfect angle causes her bottom lip to release from her teeth, a moan spilling out into the silence.
carmen keeps his hands pinned to his sides as he watches her closely, clamping his teeth together, clutching his fists. anything to keep himself from spinning her around and fucking her senseless.
the girl continues to grind against him, one hand planted on his chest and the other coming up to grab her breast. she’s completely blissed out, but carmen feels hungry—her teasing movements not fully satiating. he can feel her wetness begin to seep through and slick the fabric of his boxers.
“jesus, you’re fuckin’ killing me,” he strains, feeling his patience wear thin, “do something.” sounding almost like a plead.
she smiles, head falling back in pleasure, continuing to chase her high. her eyelids flutter at the pleasure, rocking back and forth.
carmy groans her name, followed by a “c’mon.”
“ask nicely” comes her taunt, followed by a breathy laugh, continuing to pleasure herself.
carmen decides he’s done playing with her. he plants his arm on the bed and sits up quickly, pushing her back against the bed, watching her eyes snap open to protest the loss of pleasure.
“quiet,” he demands, cutting her off. she shuts her mouth, a look of disappointment on her face. he dips down to nuzzle her neck and hide his forming smile, peppering gentle kisses into her skin. her smell is almost intoxicating. carmen grips her waist as he kisses her neck slowly trailing down to her collarbones. he hooks his thumb into the side of her panties and shuffles them down her thighs.
the girl breathes heavily, skin tingling in the wake of his touch.
the man dips his hand into her panties, fingers slipping between her folds, feeling her wetness.
“fuck,” he growls into her neck, “all this for me?” beginning to slowly circle her clit, the noise of her slickness like music to the man.
she stays quiet, eyelids as heavy as her breathing.
“hm? c’mon” he pushes, coming up from her neck and looking her in the eye, “tell me, pretty girl.”
the name causes her chest to flutter, allowing a soft whimper to spill from her lips. the intensity of the sensation in tandem with his eye contact makes her feel dizzy. makes her less embarrassed about showing appreciation.
“s’all for you, carm” she softly moans.
his fingers continue softly circling around the bundle of nerves, every few moments dipping into her opening to collect more wetness.
she teases down his abdomen and slips into his briefs, wrapping around his erection.
carmen softly groans, then inserts a finger, beginning to drag it in and out along her walls. she softly gasps at the feeling, and he can feel her squeeze his cock.
“more,” she demands softly, starting to stroke him.
he obeys, inserting a second finger, feeling more resistance now. she gasps.
he plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, then shuffles down to kiss at her breasts. down where she couldn’t stroke him anymore. the loss of her touch feels cold, so he fucks her with his fingers a little faster to make up for it.
as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she can feel her juices trickling down her thighs and onto the bed, a bit embarrassed about the mess she can feel herself making on his sheets.
wet squelching sounds start to reverberate through the quiet room as carmy speeds his fingers up, softly nipping at her perked bud. the girl claps a hand over her mouth, muffling a boisterous moan.
“hand off,” he growls, sending her a warning glance. she ignores him and closes her eyes, continuing to muffle her sounds of desperation, biting into her hand.
his jaw clenches, and he pauses his movements. with his free hand he grabs her one wrist, then the other, and pins them over her head.
the girl’s eyes snap open, and she attempts to fight against his single-handed hold. she gives her best effort, but in her weakened state her struggles do nothing against the man’s strength, so she just huffs.
carmen scoffs at this, towering over her, beginning to slowly resume the movement of his fingers inside of her. he watches her face closely as he continues—studying the way her eyelids flutter, how her lips part, how her breathing picks up again, how she tries so desperately to hold onto her moans by biting into the flesh of her lips.
he draws his fingers completely out of her, then slowly reinserts them, curling upwards and beginning to rhythmically thrust them into her. she releases the hold of her lip with a loud moan, unable to stifle it at the new positioning of his fingers. he smiles, having accomplished his goal. his fingers curl further into her.
the girl begins to feel a bit of panic, an intense and unfamiliar sensation building up within her stomach. not an orgasm, but a deep, hot, wet feeling. with her arms pinned above her head, all she can do is take it.
carmen speeds up the motion, thumb coming to brush against her clit.
“fuck!” she yelps, arching into his touch. her mouth falls open, unashamed moans starting to pour out. his pace is relentless, and it feels too good to try and refrain anymore.
“yeah?” he asks, tone cool and calm, getting a sick type of pleasure from watching her unravel beneath him. he curls his fingers up further, hand becoming soaked with her arousal.
“mmh-carm, that’s-” she’s cut off by another whine, gaze flickering down to where he was rhythmically pounding his fingers into her. “ah-you…mmmh sogood,” she babbles, completely lost in his touch.
carmy feels his composure crumbling, groaning at the way she was reacting.
“c’mon, baby, let go,” he growls, palm sloppily smacking against her clit as he drives his fingers into her. her eyes roll back a bit, and with a final few curls of his fingers she does exactly what he says and lets go, giving into the sensation. the hot, wet tightness within her core bursts, flooding throughout her whole body.
“fuuckk” she hears him groan, his voice seeming distant.
her muscles convulse with orgasm, eyes tightly shut and mouth open. everything feels so wet. his fingers slow in pace, remaining deeply lodged inside her, releasing the grip of her wrists from overhead.
it seems as if the only thing she can concentrate on is trying to remember how to breathe. as she struggles to blink her eyes open, she’s met with a handsome face that stares back at her with what seems like both shock and amazement.
“whathappened?” she jumbledly breathes out.
he just groans again, dipping down to kiss the girl, big hand grabbing her face. his fingers are wet and sticky on her face. she eagerly reciprocates his kiss, hands coming to feel his chest, a pulsing in her lower stomach.
carmy plants a kiss to her cheek then sits upright again. she pushes herself up onto her forearms, attempting to reorient. her gaze comes to where he kneels, then falls on the dark spot on the sheets that surrounds them, as if something had spilled. her brows furrow as she pulls her eyes back up to carmy. his face is flushed and pupils dilated, gripping onto the backs of her thighs.
“you, uh…. god that was fucking hot,” he says with an unwavering stare.
“did i do that?” she gasps, “fuck, i’m sorry, i’ve never-” hand coming over her mouth in embarrassment, “i’ll wash your sheets. or buy you new ones.” her face turns hot and red.
he swipes his fingers over her opening, collecting her wetness, then sucks them into his mouth.
her eyes widen, watching him savor the taste of her.
“carm, say something,” she begs, still partially mortified.
“you taste good,” he replies, pulling her closer by her thighs. there’s an animalistic glint in his eyes.
“not about that,” she looks away out of embarrassment.
“m’gonna make you do it again,” he strains, pulling down the band of his boxers and allowing his erection to spring free. he works to shuffle them down his thighs.
her short-lived embarrassment dissipates completely at the sight of his cock. he’s thick, and slightly curved, throbbing with arousal, emerging from a dark bush of curls. her breath hitches, and she almost moans at the sight, instinctively spreading her legs further apart for him.
carmen grabs a pillow and lifts her legs, tucking it under her tailbone and pulling her in closely. he begins to glide his head in between her folds, collecting her slick. he nudges against her clit, and she gasps, covering her mouth.
“y’okay?” he checks, locking eyes with her. she nods her head.
“mhm, just….be gentle,” she pleads, “please,” slightly intimidated by his girth.
“i will be,” he nods, giving her a sincere look, “promise.”
she nods back, a signal to go ahead.
carmy pushes against her opening, slipping his head in slowly. they release a breathy moan in tandem.
he pushes forward until he finds resistance at less than halfway in.
“fuck,” she pants, hand flying up to grab his wrist.
“doin’ so good,” he praises, “tell me when you want me to keep going.”
the girl nods, eyes shutting tightly, trying to adjust to the imposing stretch. she releases her grip on him, trailing her fingers down her body to rub circles into her clit. she feels herself relax a bit at the pleasure as carmy’s eyes stay glued to her, watching her every move with enthusiasm. her slow circles speed up ever so slightly, letting out a gentle moan, droopy eyes coming to meet those of the man above her. it feels so good, and she clenches around him. the only thing that would make it better would be-
“kiss me,” she pleads.
he studies her swollen lips, flushed face, sweet doe eyes—he can’t help but mindlessly obey, caging her with his forearms.
the intoxicating mix of carmen’s kisses and the work of her fingers help her relax. the grip on his wrist loosens, and carmen is able to fully sink in. he pushes forward until his hips are completely flush with hers, moaning into her mouth. she matches it with a gasp.
the girl can’t believe how full she feels. It’s almost hard to breathe, nails digging into carmy’s bicep. he pulls away from the kiss, thumb coming to stroke the side of her cheek.
“doin’ okay?” he asks softly.
she has to take a moment to find her words, overcome with a dizzy head high.
“fuck, it’s s-so big,” she stammers, both hands now gripping onto his biceps for dear life.
he can’t help the surge that runs through him at her words, small smirk tugging at the edge of his lip.
“yeah?”
“mmhmmm.”
“too much f’you? want me to take it out?” he teases, knowing full well what her answer would be.
“no!” her eyes snap open “so good, carmy. want you to fuck me.”
he groans.
“give it a sec. play with ‘yrself some more. fuckin’ gripping me down there.”
her chest flutters at the sound of his voice—the low growl of it that seemed to resonate through her bones.
“please,” she begs, pressing a kiss to his lips, “want it so bad,” another kiss, “i can take it.”
he tightens his jaw, feeling his cock twitch inside of her at the desperation in her tone.
“you tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he asserts, hand grabbing her waist to steady himself, sitting up. she eagerly nods her head.
carmy begins to slowly ease out, his length dragging along her tight walls, then pushes his hips forward gently, sinking into her fully. her mouth falls open, a whiny breath spills out.
he repeats this again, this time snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. her hands smooth up his biceps and wrap behind his neck, tangling in his hair. she pulls him down to her lips, and kisses him with frenzy, then peppers kisses along his cheek and jawline.
the man swears he’s miraculously died and gone straight to heaven, even though he hadn’t been to church in ages.
the way she smells, the feeling of her lips trailing along his face, the fucking vice grip her pussy wrapped around him with. it’s all like heaven.
he moves slowly, rolling his hips to softly thrust in and out of her.
the girl responds enthusiastically, bucking her hips up to accommodate him further. it feels incredible, but it’s not enough for either of them.
he wants to be gentle with the girl, try and counter the thoughts that pop in his head whenever he looks at her. he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop himself if he gives in.
so he forces himself to take it slow. and gentle and sweet.
but the girl keeps bucking her hips up to take more of him, frustrated that he won’t get the message.
“faster,” she whines, placing a few more kisses along his face.
he ignores her, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. his hand trails downwards, wedging it in between them to lightly rub her clit. his pace stays lazy and soft, kissing her neck.
“carmy,” she complains, fingers carding up through his hair, “give it to me.”
he just ignores her, slowing the pace of his fingers and biting her neck.
she gasps and yanks his hair.
“fuck me already,” she huffs, pout on her lips.
he growls into her neck, then pulls back, looking at her. his eyes had grown dark, eyebrows slightly twitching. a completely different expression than the soft one he wore previously.
this one was much hungrier.
he sits straight up, pulling her legs to be flush with his shoulders, then he practically bends her in half, hands pressing down on the backs of her thighs.
she flushes at the new position, feeling entirely vulnerable, but too overwhelmed with lust to do anything about it. she goes to say something, but he cuts her off by snapping his hips against hers, driving himself deeply inside of her. her mouth falls open into an o shape, taken aback by the sudden change in angle. she can feel every inch of him this way, so fucking full she can’t even seem to form a thought.
carmen eases out of her, then sinks inside again, hips slamming against hers. this time she lets out a throaty gasp, eyes droopy, completely transfixed by the sight of him above her. his chest was flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. she wanted to lick it off. his messy curls bounce in time with his movements.
he pulls back again, and snaps his hips forward, releasing a deep groan.
she feels too full to make any sounds besides the needy gasps that pour plentifully from her lips.
carmy smirks down at the girl, studying her blissed out expression with a sense of pride as he continually thrusts into her. his eyes fall to watch her breasts bounce in conjunction with his thrusts, and he can’t help but grab one, squeezing, brushing his thumb over her perked nipple. she arches into his touch.
he increases his pace, hips beginning to drive into her harder.
she can feel herself slipping into a cloudy haze, the consistent slap of his hips against hers almost meditative, a red hot pleasure circulating through her whole body.
“look at me,” he orders, tweaking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
she didn’t even realize she had shut her eyes, forcing them back open to meet his gaze.
he slides his fingers down her stomach, over her pubic hair, coming to rub her clit. slick noises fill the room as his movements are eagerly met with more and more wetness.
she studies his handsome face, watches how his eyebrows scrunch, how he bites down onto his lip and flares his nostrils ever so slightly. she wants to have his babies, she thinks in her haze. in that moment she would willingly take anything he gave her.
she opens her mouth to express her gratitude, but all that comes out is a loud moan.
“yeah? y’like that?” he asks, hiking her leg further up onto his shoulder.
“mm-hmmm,” she cries in between breaths, wincing at how deep he was going, but somehow wanting even more.
“tell me, pretty girl. use those words.” he plants a kiss to the inside of her ankle and keeps thrusting into her.
“fuck,” she cries, “so good, carm. sososo good.”
his circles around her clit speed up, and the pleasure pushes her to continue, embarrassment out the window.
“love it,” she gasps, “i love it. you fuck me so good,” beginning to babble, “please don’t stop. please don’t ever stop.”
a grin breaks his face at this, and he drives into her faster, a wet slapping resounding through the room. he kisses her ankle again, then her foot.
“whatever you want,” he tells her sincerely. “fuckin’ perfect, y’know that?” another kiss on her foot, “like you were fuckin’ made for me.”
she opens her mouth, but her rationality kicks in and thinks it might be too early to ask him to put a baby in her. she opts to take a less direct approach.
“cum in me,” a breathy plead, “please,” locking eyes with him. he gives a slight shake of his head, surprised by her words. surprised by how mindlessly he wants to obey.
“fuck,” he enunciates, “you know i can’t.” the justification of why barely makes it to his mind, overcome with the flood of arousal from her words.
“i want it,” she whines. her legs slip from his shoulders and wrap around his back, pulling him in close. he releases a groan, sinking further into her, slowing his movements and beginning to punctuate his thrusts. he leans down and kisses her neck.
“i said no,” he growls, “be fuckin’ good.”
she bites his shoulder. hard enough to sting.
“ah-f’you keep acting like a brat i’m gonna fuck you like one,” he warns, hands holding her firmly in place.
she grins, then bites him again, this time on his bicep. and much harder.
carmen feels himself run out of patience, sitting up and pulling out of her. he shuffles off the bed and stands, and before she can open her mouth to complain, he yanks her up by the arm. his hand presses on her upper back and shoves her into the mattress, grabbing her hips and lifting her to arch to his liking.
the girl feels slightly humiliated by the vulnerable position, yet finds it does nothing but make the tingling heat of her body intensify.
she notices her cheek is wet—he had shoved her face first into the spot she made earlier. at this, she lets out an unenthusiastic groan.
“yeah well, i told you to fuckin’ behave,” he responds, collecting some of her slick and coating it over his cock, stroking a few times. “was tryin’ to go easy on you.” he begins to press the head into her, eliciting a breathy sigh. “but you don’t want me to, huh?” he sinks the rest of the way in. “you’ve been wanting me to give it to you rough, yeah?”
he buries himself to the hilt, and she gasps, feeling fuller than she ever thought possible.
“no,” comes her breathy protest into the mattress. he wasn’t wrong. at all. but she had too much pride to admit it, so instead she argues.
carmy scoffs.
“yeah? that why you’re fuckin’ soaking me? cause you don’t want it?”
he pulls back, dragging along her walls, then thrusts forward. the girl yelps, and takes a deep breath.
“i’m not,” comes her sharp retort, forearms coming to the bed and pushing herself up.
carmen drags his fingers up her inner thigh, collecting some of her juices that had trickled down, wordlessly holding them in front of her so she could see.
her cheeks feel hot. she doesn’t say anything, instead turns her face away from his glistening fingers. he grabs her jaw and pulls her back, pushing his coated fingers into her mouth. the girl makes a noise of disagreement, but doesn’t move away. she swirls her tongue around him, sucking his fingers clean.
he was right, she does taste sweet.
carmy drags his fingers out of her mouth slowly, catching her lip on the way down, and wraps around her neck, pressing gently. only enough to remind her who was in charge.
she willingly submits to the pleasure, arching back against him, growing impatient with his lack of movement.
she begins to ease herself forward, then rock back onto him selfishly, working to help alleviate some of the pressure that had built within her.
he lets her, for a moment, admiring the way she bounces against him, watching as she desperately tried to satiate herself.
he leans forward to plant a kiss to her cheek, fingers still wrapped around her throat, and begins to drive his hips forward to match her movements.
“yes,” she cries, hoping to god he wouldn’t stop again.
he doesn’t, continuing to rhythmically thrust into her, filling her up and stretching her out. her hand flies down to her clit and begins softly rubbing, keeping in time with the movement of his hips. she can’t help the plentiful sounds that spill from her lips—sounds of motivation for the man.
carmen, on the other hand, clenches his teeth together tightly and anchors himself by gripping her hip with his free hand, leaning over her.
he’s wanted to cum since the second he slipped into her, actively working to refrain and make it last as long as possible.
her juices begin to flow uncontrollably, completely covering his cock, sticking to his pubic hair.
everything was wet, and hot, and felt so fucking good.
the man wants to stay in this very moment for eternity, he thinks.
a particularly deep thrust makes the girl cry out voraciously, a primal cry that seemed to ignite something in him.
his hand moves from her hip to her upper arm and he pulls her upright. she leans her head against his shoulder, and he wraps a strong arm around her torso, hand coming to hold her neck once again.
the girl can barely support herself, legs trembling as carmen beings to increase the ferocity of his thrusts. the new angle situates him impossibly deeper—that familiar deep, wet feeling of heat starting to re-emerge within her stomach. his free hand trails down to her clit to help her climb higher.
carmy’s thrusts begin to cause wet squelching sounds. she completely loses herself in the sensation, mind blank with bliss, feeling tears begin to leak from her eyes.
he grabs her jaw and plants a rough kiss on her cheek. his lips become wet with her tears.
“that feel good, baby?” he hums into her skin, bucking up into her relentlessly.
“so good, carm,” she cries, gripping onto his arm for dear life, “love it. so so good.”
“fuck” he growls, shifting his hips further up into her, eliciting a yelp from the girl.
“thank you,” she mindlessly moans, “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
he grins, grabbing her jaw tighter. another rough kiss on her cheek.
“where’d that fuckin’ attitude go, huh?” plowing forward into her, biting her neck.
she just whimpers, body falling limp against him. he effortlessly holds her up right where he wants her and continues drilling his hips forward.
“carmy, i’m- ah,” her mouth agape, “‘sgonna happen again,” she warns. he maintains his relentless pace, skin slapping against hers.
“let it go, pretty girl. i got you,” he assures, face scrunching, muscles tightening, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay long enough to pull her through.
with a primal cry of pleasure, she does exactly what he says and lets go.
it’s a flood of heat through her body, a release so satiating she thinks she‘ll be addicted for life. her vision goes spotty, ears start ringing, mind becoming numbingly empty for a moment. her fingernails leave marks along carmen’s arm from how hard she grips, using him as her last remaining tether to reality.
her breathing becomes rapid, body overstimulated with his continual thrusts. it’s almost too much, and then it’s nothing at all, feeling him pull out with a loud groan. feeling warm ropes shoot across her lower back. feeling him gently lower her down onto the wet bed. feeling her legs start to shake as the orgasm begins to subside.
a few moments go by. she feels a cold wet rag clean off her back. she feels his hand rub over her ass, feeling it be squeezed. she doesn’t move. she can’t move.
“hey.”
his voice is so distant, sounding like he’s talking through a tin can. she feels him push her onto her side. she feels him smooth her hair out of her face.
she can’t seem to open her eyes.
she can’t even seem to breathe without panting.
her entire body feels tingly.
“hey,” comes again, this time a little closer, “y’okay?”
she can’t respond. It’s like she forgot how to vocalize.
carmen gently pats the side of her face. she doesn’t respond, so he does it a little harder. her eyes blink open at the soft smacks.
her eyes meet his. they’re so blue, hazed with a slight expression of worry.
“hi,” she whispers once she’s found her words. he’s so handsome, she thinks. his cheeks are flushed. his lips are swollen.
“hi,” he softly smiles, “y’okay? was that too much?”
she shakes her head no, a blissed out grin forming on her face.
“mm. i liked it. a lot,” she tells him earnestly.
“yeah? earlier you were saying you loved it,” he teases, smoothing her hair back behind her ear. she opens her mouth to respond but shuts it, rolling her eyes.
there was that attitude again, carmen thinks to himself.
“your bed is wet,” she complains, rolling onto her back and pushing herself up onto her forearms.
“who’s fault is that?” he asks, an eyebrow lifting.
she holds onto his bicep and pulls herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. he sits next to her.
“yours,” she responds.
he scoffs.
“it is,” she huffs, head resting on his shoulder, “i’ve never done that before. it felt…crazy.”
the comment makes him feel big headed, a surge of pride and possessiveness that he’s the only one who’s ever made her feel that way. he doesn’t say it, though. just wraps his arm around the girl and kisses her head.
a quiet settles between them. the yellow of the streetlights through the window gives the room a dreamlike glow. the time on the clock shows that it’s an ungodly hour to be awake. carmen thinks of taking a personal day.
“wanna take a shower?” she asks softly, leaning up to kiss his neck, hand on his thigh.
“that-” he exhales as she nips his neck, “sounds really nice,” his own hand coming to cover hers. his were so big comparatively. another moment of quiet.
“i don’t think i can stand,” she admits, breaking the silence. he lets out a laugh.
-
the silky sheets wrap around entangled limbs, draping the two lovers in a soft sleepy haze.
the girl had to offer her own bed up for sleeping arrangements, given that carmen’s bed was completely soaked.
their legs intertwine, feet rub together, skin smooths against skin as they lay facing each other.
the cracked window allows an early november chill to sweep through the room. the girl gives a small shiver, and carmy pulls the blanket up over her bare shoulder, wrapping his arm around her back.
they remain in a comfortable silence, both nearly delirious in the early hour, but too giddy to fall asleep.
she studies his face in the close proximity, eyes smoothing over the small scar on his cheek, the light freckles that scatter his skin, the alluring curve of his nose.
it feels almost as intimate as their shared shower, where they had tenderly washed each other’s hair and studied each other’s nudity in the light. he had called her beautiful. she returned the compliment. he held her up in the shower on account of her shaky legs, kissing her lovingly under the stream of the hot water, fingers gripping onto her as if he was scared she’d vanish into thin air.
all that she was scared of happening had happened. she found herself completely infatuated with the man, the mere thought of him making her stomach flutter.
she tries to push it out of her mind, as she lay studying his face, that she only had a little over a month before she would leave chicago. as much as she tried to push it away, though, it came back.
she doesn’t realize she’s furrowing her brows until carmen reaches up to touch her forehead, smoothing his thumb over the scrunch.
she meets his eyes, and immediately feels a soothing sensation.
his hand slides down the side of her face and cups it, thumb rubbing over her lip.
“whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asks softly.
she stays quiet for a moment, not sure how to express herself, chewing on her lip trying to piece together her words. he gently pulls it from between her teeth, his eyes fixed on her face, studying every emotion.
she takes a deep breath.
“i really like you, carmy,” her admission comes as a whisper.
a tear escapes down her cheek, and she feels stupid because of it.
“hey,” he soothes, thumb swiping away the stray tear, “c’mere.”
he pulls her into an embrace, arms engulfing her smaller frame. he rubs her back, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“this about california?” the man asks after a moment.
she doesn’t answer, just nuzzles her face into his neck.
“we still have some time, yeah?” he consoles, “and it won’t be forever. you can come back and visit.”
he stays positive, partially to reassure himself as well.
“okay,” she murmurs into his neck, pressing herself closer to him.
she thinks it might’ve been a mistake to have started something she can’t finish.
it might’ve been a mistake to even entertain the idea at all.
but even still, he’s so warm, smells so nice, feels so incredibly safe.
he runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her temple, holding her tightly.
it feels so good she thinks it can’t be a mistake.
Yan! Shadow and Sonic jealous of readers friendship with another guy
YANDERE SONIC AND SHADOW JEALOUS OF READERS GUY FRIEND
seperately!
tysm for requesting guys ehehehehehheeeee
SONIC
Sonic isn’t the type to let things get to him. At least, thats what everyone thinks. He’s carefree, fun, the good guy! But when he sees you getting too close to someone else, when your focus isn’t on him, his stomach twists with something dark.
He plays along at first, flashing his signature grin as his eyes track your every move.
“Oh yeah? He’s a cool dude, huh?” he asks.
There was something off about his voice, something too tight in his posture..
After that was when the subtle sabotage against your little friend began.
Sonic always interrupted the two of you. The moment Sonic sees you two together, suddenly he’s there, an arm slung around your shoulder cracking jokes to force you to focus on him, to acknowledge his presence.
Sonic will isolate you through guilt.
“Y’know, Y/N.. We used to spend so much time together. Guess I’m just not as fun anymore, huh?”
He says while leaning on a tree, ears drooping. His voice was just sad enough to make you feel bad.
He’ll even approach your friend himself, always challenging him to things to try and prove himself better than him. Such as challenging him to a race. If he doesn’t accept, he’ll just flash a cocky smile and remind your friend just how much cooler he is. however if he does accept, Sonic won’t run at his full speed, (unless your friend can run near the speed of sound..!) He’ll run just fast enough to make him collapse in exhaustion. He’ll grin as he stands over his breathless, defeated form.
“Heh, guess you’re just not cut out for keeping up, huh?”
But what if all that doesn’t bring his desired results of keeping him away from you?
No matter where your friend went, he felt watched. Flashing blue in the distance, the feeling of something moving too fast just outside of his vision.
One night, he finds Sonic waiting for him.
Close, still, his usual cocky grin wiped from his face.
“Listen, buddy.” Sonic murmured, his voice as sharp as a blade.
“You’re messing with something that doesn’t belong to you. I don’t like that.”
Then a quick gust of wind whipped past your friend’s ear, a flash of blue too quick to focus on. Suddenly, whatever form of communication the guy had disappeared from his person. Phone? Smartwatch? Gone.
Sonic reappears in front of him, twirling the device in his fingers. Sonic’s smile returned to his face.
“Oops.. It’d be a shame if something happened to you, huh?”
—
The next day, your friend was gone. He won’t return your calls, won’t answer the door.. After a while of not seeing him, Sonic questions it.
“Hey, Y/N, what ever happened to your little friend?”
“I’m not sure.. I haven’t seen him in a while.” you said, avoiding eye contact.
He tilted his head, moving his gloved hand from his side to under your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“Heh, told you I was the only one who’d stick around.”
and then he’d probably invite you out for pizza lolololol
—
SHADOW
Shadow didn’t like to share. He kept his things to himself. and he CERTAINLY wasn’t fond of the idea of sharing you.
The first time he sees you, laughing and smiling with this other guy, something inside him snaps.
What do you think you’re doing? You’re his, after all.
At first, he watches, lurking. His crimson eyes tracking your every interaction, every small gesture of kindness, every flash of a smile towards him.. His body tense, hardly restraining himself from ending it between you two right then and there.
Then, the warnings.
Your friend starts to notice some subtle, terrifying things. His belongings, keys, wallet, phone, would disappear without a trace, only to be returned later.. Ripped to pieces.
On walks, his footsteps echo. Not because of empty surroundings, but because Shadow follows behind, calculating the perfect time to strike.
When you two have conversations, he’ll stand closely behind you, sending a piercing stare into your friend’s eyes, hinting at him to back off.
And when he doesn’t listen, when he keeps on coming back to you, Shadow begins to escalate things.
One night, your friend is walking home after a late night out. The streets are empty. The air is still. Then something moves in the corner of his eye, a rush of wind, a flicker of red in the dark.
And suddenly, there stands Shadow, menacingly in front of him.
“You don’t listen very well.”
He steps forward as the guy instinctively steps back.
“That’s a problem.”
Your friend tries to run, but he doesn’t get far. Shadow’s gloved hand wrapped around his mouth, quickly teleporting them both into an abandoned, desolate place. A place where nobody could hear him scream.
Before he could even react, Shadow sent a hard blow to his ribs, enough to make him understand. He gasped trying to get up, but Shadow’s air shoe pressed down on his chest, keeping him in place.
“I don’t like repeating myself.”
—
About a week later, you started to get worried. You hadn’t heard from your friend at all, all calls going to voicemail and all texts being left on delivered.
And Shadow?
He’s right there by your side.
“He won’t answer you at all? Tch.. Looks like he isn’t that great of a friend after all.”
His eyes were soft as he watched your expression of confusion turn into one of sadness, loneliness.
Perfect.
Because now, there’s no one else left but him.
—-
yall are suckers for yandere shadow but its okay CAUSE I AM TOO SLURP SLURP SLURP
Warnings: reader's kid being a silly goose, step dad!Loki (the dad that stepped up)
Wordcount: 308
For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge, hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 3rd: Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin / “And he shows them pearly white”
A/N: This doesn't fit the vibe of the song ummmm oops
//
“And he shows them pearly white–” Loki momentarily pauses at the interruption of the door of your daughter’s room opening. You mouth a quick ‘sorry’. He gives you a soft smile before turning back to your kid.
“teeth.” Loki concludes reading, theatrically snapping the children's book shut. “There you go, chicken. That’s why we brush our teeth.” He ruffles your daughter’s hair.
“I’ve never seen you brush your teeth.” The kid accuses. You stifle your laugh with the palm of your hand while Loki frowns at her. “That’s because I do it after your bedtime.” He says, the wrinkle between his eyebrows very evident now.
Your daughter looks skeptical, turning to you for the truth. “Does he?” She loudly ‘whispers’.
“He does.” You nod, perfectly serious.
“You’ve seen him do it?” She squints at you, playing the role of tiny interrogator. This time you break into laughter.
“Now she’ll never believe I do it,” Loki scoffs playfully.
“I promise Loki brushes his teeth,” you reassure her between giggles.
“Okaaaay.” The kid gives in finally. “Cause you said it’s important and I don’t want you to die.” She pokes Loki's chest.
You open your mouth in shock. “Why would he–”
“Mama, please, this is a private conversation!” Your kid scolds you. You raise your hands up in defense.
“Why exactly would I die?” Loki questions bewildered.
“Because of a cavity!”
“Chicken, I’m a god. I'm not getting a cavity.”
“Prove it! Race you to brush our teeth!” Your daughter exclaims, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom.
“You ever even had a cavity?”
Loki shakes his head smugly. You roll your eyes. “Hurry up, dad!” The kid yells from the bathroom. You and Loki exchange surprised looks.
“Did she just…?”
“Call you dad for the first time? I believe so.” You grin. “Seems like you've been promoted.”
type of post: short fic
characters: lilia
additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, a little suggestive, actually a lot suggestive, this is based off a stupid joke I made, reader is older than nrc students etc
It had started as a joke.
IT WAS A JOKE!!!
How could you have known? You had had your suspicions, but it's not like anyone tells you these things.
You meant it as a JOKE!
"Yeah, well, I fucked your dad,"
Sebek looked absolutely horrified, as if you had just told him his pet puppy died. Silver was stuck in place, pale, staring at you. Malleus chuckled.
You look between the three, confused. "Relax, guys, I was kidding,"
Sebek's horror immediately twists into rage, his whole face going red. "HAVE YOU NO DECENCY? TO JOKE ABOUT SUCH VULGAR THINGS!!!"
"Sebek, it's alright," Malleus interrupts, smirking. Weird. Usually, he's the one who doesn't get your jokes. "They didn't know."
"Didn't know?" you ask. "Didn't know what?"
Malleus chuckles, and pats your head like one would a puppy, or a small child. "Some things are better left unsaid, child of man. You should know better than to make such comments around the younger students, though,"
"...Oh, right," you mutter. "Oops."
Sebek still looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel.
"...It's fine, I'm not offended. I was just... surprised, that's all," Silver says, the color slowly returning to his face.
You still can't seem to figure out what it is. You'd made crude jokes in front of them before, they're not that young, Lilia has said much worse, and you'd only been messing with them. Besides, you don't even know their dad.
Or so you thought.
"Knock knock~" a familiar, cheery voice calls out for you, opening your door.
You look up from your phone, trying to distract yourself from your earlier embarrassment.
"Oh... hey, Lilia,"
"Busy?" he asks, letting himself in, anyway.
"Uh... no. Not really. Is everything okay?"
The fae smiles, the tips of his fangs visible between his lips. He's got that look on him again.
"Malleus told me you caused quite the commotion, earlier,"
Oh, great. Now him, too? You're never gonna live this down. You sigh.
"I..." you hesitate. You really don't want to be scolded again, and you've heard that Lilia can be quite scary when he's mad.
"...We were all just... having a silly little argument, nothing serious, and I made a bad joke, I guess."
"Which waaaas?"
At least he doesn't seem upset, you think. If anything, he seems amused. Which isn't great, either.
You sigh again. "...I joked, in a jokey manner, in a joking conversation, that I had... done certain things with their father,"
"And is that true?"
"What?" you scoff, almost in disbelief. Is he really turning this into a lecture about lying? He never lectures you. "Obviously not! I was joking! People make those kinds of jokes all the time!"
"Ah, but how careless of you. Poor Sebek almost fainted," Lilia says, taking a seat on your bed next to you. He really is turning this into a lecture...
"Hm. But would you like it to be true?"
Pause.
Huh?
Even when he's scolding, he finds a way to surprise you. And yet... what if he's not scolding at all...?
You give him a weird look. "Meaning what?"
Lilia giggles, and you catch a glimmer in his eye. He's teasing. Not lecturing. Teasing. What is he...
"Remember how I told you that I'm much older than I look?"
Oh.
Oh, no.
Your stomach drops. Everyone's horrified looks, Malleus' amusement, Lilia's teasing, suddenly make sense.
"No,"
"Yes," Lilia lowers his eyes, getting closer. "I must say, I'm flattered. But it was rather cruel of you to lie to my boys. I'm simply suggesting we... make that lie a truth."
You stare at him, unflinching. Perhaps you'd always thought he was a little cute, perhaps you're just thinking it now. What you're sure of, though, is that you could hold this over everyone's heads forever. He knows it, too.
Finally, you nod.
Lilia sets a hand on your knee and leans a little closer. "Good. Honesty is a virtue, after all,"
In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.
masterlist - playlist
lando norris x fem!verstappen reader
tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!
“You’re kidding me.”
Max is standing in front of you, he can barely withhold his laugh. You can see the first signs of his laugh by the way his mouth corners are up. You’re not focused on your brother and his stupid laugh, you’re focused on his best friend. Lando Norris, who’s holding out his hand to you with a silver key in it. You can only hope that this is some sort of prank, but it doesn’t seem like it.
“No,” Max tells you, “We’re getting renovations and the backup apartment only has two bedrooms.”
“I can sleep on the couch?” You offer hopeless.
“Lando has a room for you,” your brother replies, “and he’s barely home, so what’s the big deal?”
“He’s Lando,” you sigh annoyed.
Lando has been silent before, but this time he speaks up as well. Almost annoyed he grunts, “He’s standing here. You should be grateful instead of acting like a -” “Lando,” Max is quick to interrupt him. Now that Lando thinks back about the words he was going to say, maybe it’s better that Max interrupted him. Calling you a brat who needs to get laid, by him, wouldn’t make him more popular by you. Oops.
“See,” you say with an annoyed look at Lando, “I’ll book a hotel because this is the worst idea ever.”
“You’re going to live in a hotel room in Monaco for a good month or two?” Max asks you surprised, “I’m not paying for that.”
“Babygirl,” Lando starts. You try to silence him with a angry glance, but it doesn’t work. Since the last couple weeks he keeps calling you babygirl, princess or some other terrible nickname. You can’t get him to stop. “I’ll behave,” Lando continues.
“See?” Max asks you with the same tone you used with him earlier.
“Until you beg me to misbeha-”
“Lando for fucks sake,” Max grunts while interrupting his friend again. “I told you it was a bad idea for you to be included in this conversation, you’re only making things worse.”
Lando finally gets the hint and walks away from the room, leaving Max and you alone to talk about all of this. When he’s standing in the hallway, he can’t help himself to stay close by the door. Maybe he can hear something of what you’re saying. In the mean time he looks at his phone, he notices multiple new messages on different platforms. When he opens a couple snaps he’s greeted with nudes from girls he barely recognizes, sometimes with the question when they will see him again. It annoys him. There aren’t many girls who understand that a one night stand is for only one night. He ignores the snaps.
“Max you can’t expect me to live with him,” you tell your brother angrily, “He’s a literal man whore. I will probably stay awake every night that he’s home because he always brings some girl with him.”
“I bet that if you ask him to be a bit more quiet, he’ll do so,” Max disagrees with you.
“Still,” you sigh, “We don’t like each other. Lando and I aren’t friends like the two of you. We’re always arguing.”
“Why don’t you like Lando?” Max asks you, “I mean, you’re often the one who starts with the arguments.”
“That’s now!” You quickly defend yourself, “Earlier it was always Lando who started things. Whenever you left he would always tease me with something.”
Max doesn’t reply this time. You continue to whine about living with Lando. “Can’t you live with Lando? I’m sure Kelly would like it if I’m taking your place.” This time Max chuckles, but he still shakes his head.
“I don’t have another solution then this,” Max tells you eventually. He doesn’t tell you that Lando begged him to let you stay at his place during the renovations. Max also doesn’t tell you that he probably can rent you another apartment for a while, or could have found a place for himself, Kelly, Penelope and you. Lando owns him a lot after this.
“Am I really going to live with Lando?”
“Just for a while,” Max replies with a small smile. It seems like you finally agreed.
Lando is smiling even more on the other side of the door. He’s glad that he’s standing here and hears this. His plan worked. At least, the first step of like a billion steps worked out for him. When he hands you his keys five minutes later, the smile is still plastered on his face.
+++
“We need some ground rules.”
Lando looks away from the street in front of him to throw a short look at you. The two of you are sitting in his car, much to your disliking. He waited at Max his place until you were done with packing so he could take you with him. While packing your stuff, you kept wondering why you decided to live with Max in Monaco, since it caused this drama.
“Ground rules babygirl?” Lando asks you. He tries to focus on the road again, but he feels distracted with you this close next to him.
“Rule one, no more calling me babygirl,” you mutter annoyed.
“Nope,” Lando is quick to answer.
Before you can say anything else, Lando speaks up again. “Let’s talk about your rules later, I’m trying to focus on driving.”
“Didn’t know that a formula one driver had trouble with normal car driving,” you mutter.
Lando laughs softly. You’re without a doubt the most annoying girl he knows, but he wants nothing more then to make you his annoying girl. That can’t be good. It really can’t be. You on the other hand aren’t laughing, you’re still annoyed by everything that happened and is going to happen. You try to distract yourself by wondering about Lando his apartment: how would it look? You expect it to be all manly. Probably no decor, only formula one stuff and more like that.
When Lando parks his car in an underground garage, he’s quick to tell you about how things work in the apartment complex. “If you want, you can park your car here as well,” he tells you after giving a whole explanation about getting in the garage after hours.
“I don’t have a car,” you tell Lando, “I always used one of Max’s.”
“Oh, you can use one of mine then if you need a car,” Lando simply states without even thinking about it. You don’t know what to say. When looking at the multiple cars that are parked on spots that match with Lando his apartment number, you can only wonder what they cost. He is really offering you to use his expensive cars whenever you like? “I’ll show you where the keys are later,” Lando continues, “you don’t have to ask if you want to use them.”
“You’re kidding right?” You ask surprised. Lando is already shocking you. Normally the two of you are always bickering, mostly because of you, so it doesn’t make any sense to you that he’s offering something big like this.
“No babygirl,” he replies, “you can use every one of them.”
“Even your McLaren?” You ask while looking at the special McLaren that Lando owns.
“Even the McLaren.”
You can’t stop yourself and grin. This is a nice thing. Max is always really protective over his cars, certainly the ones who mean a bit more to him or were more expensive. Lando doesn’t seem to care as much. You already can’t wait to try his cars.
Together with Lando you use the elevator to get to his floor. You’re getting more curious about Lando his apartment. Lando on the other hand is thinking about something else. He wonders about how you will be in his apartment. Since Max told him about those renovations, he couldn’t help himself and kept imagining living together with you. Seeing it as his big chance to finally show you that he’s not some little boy anymore and maybe to connect a bit more with you. He hopes that he finally can make sure that you get to know the real him. But he doesn’t have a plan for that yet.
When Lando opens the door and drags your suitcase inside with him, you feel the reality of the situations washing over you. This is it. You’re really living with Lando for now. It feels weird. Lando and you have a complicated past. It’s not as bad as it was before, but you do have a strong opinion about him. And it’s not a positive one.
You remember all those discussions between Lando and you. The times he teased you until you exploded at him. Or the times you started it and made him crazy. Before it could be simple, but when Lando started his ‘fuck boy era’ - at least, that’s how you call it, you’re even more annoyed by him. Every time he comes over he seems to have some sort of story about a random girl who landed in his bed. It annoys you.
“So, what do you think?” Lando pulls you out of your thoughts. Slowly you walk inside his apartment. It’s big. Even bigger then you already expected. About the other things you were kinda right. The interior is nice, but it seems basic. He probably called a specialist once, who made sure he has a nice interior. It’s not bad, but it’s not personal. You miss the simple personal touches. It feels a bit stoic.
“Looks good,” you tell Lando.
“And now your honest opinion?” Lando sees right through you.
“It’s nice,” you say before being honest, “but I miss the personal touches.”
Lando smirks. “Maybe you can take care of that one day,” he jokes. Or better said, he says it like it’s a joke but he would love it if you would actually make his apartment more homey. But you can start with being here.
“Let me show you the rest,” Lando tells you. He grabs your arm and takes you with him. You’re surprised by the way he searches physical contact with you. Even more surprised with the way it feels. Lando shows you the apartment. You’re quick to find out which room has a few personal touches, his game room. If you should call it that at least. Multiple helmets and trophies are standing in shelves leaning on the walls.
Lando doesn’t give you a lot of time to look around at his personal belongings. The same thing happens with his own bedroom. You can barely see his bed and then he closes the door again. He takes you with you to the bathroom, before finally showing you the guest bedroom.
“Think this is okay?” He asks you a bit nervous. You don’t notice the nervous tone in his voice. Slowly you look around in the guest room. It seems nice. There’s plenty room for all your stuff and the bed seems pretty comfortable. You even spot some fresh flowers on the bedside table. Did Lando get those? You can’t imagine it, it must be the doing of his cleaner or something.
Lando sees the way you look at the fresh flowers. He wonders what you’re thinking right now. You probably don’t think that he has bought them himself. He knew beforehand that if you would move in with him, that it would happen today. So earlier this morning he went to the flower shop to get some fresh flowers for your room. Hoping it would make you feel a bit more at home. He doesn’t tell you that he bought them. You probably won’t believe him anyway.
“Yeah,” you reply to Lando earlier question, “this is fine.”
“I hope you don’t snore,” Lando jokes, “the walls are thin.”
“Then I hope you don’t take a girl with you every night,” you throw back.
“Jealous?” Lando questions you with a raised eyebrow.
“All though, I don’t think I’ll hear the girl much,” you continue, “You’re probably more concerned about your own pleasure.”
“Fucking hell babygirl,” Lando grunts annoyed, “Just wait until you find out how concerned I am about your pleasure.”
You try to withhold any sort of reaction to be shown. Inside you’re going crazy. Lando always makes remarks that are a bit on the bold side, but he never made them this sexual. Fuck. You can’t think about stuff like this.
“That brings me back to my earlier statement, we need some rules,” you tell Lando.
“I need rules in my own home?” He asks you surprised. Of course he knew this was coming, but after your remarks Lando isn’t making this easy for you.
“Yes,” you sigh, “because otherwise we’re going to fight every day.”
“Maybe I like that,” Lando continues to annoy you.
You let out a sigh. Lando lets out a soft chuckle. It’s so easy to tease you. He knows he should stop, but you know what they say, right? Boys always tease the girls they like the most. He walks back to the living room with you and offers you something to drink before getting on the couch next to you.
“What rules do you suggest, babygirl?” He then asks you.
“One, no more calling me babygirl,” you tell him just as you did earlier today.
“Nope,” Lando states, it’s the same answer he gave you the first time. You don’t react to his no, you continue with the rest of your rules.
“Rule number two, I don’t want to meet every other girl you bring here,” you say.
“Afraid you’d get jealous?” Lando asks you teasingly. He can only hope that it’s like that, but he knows better. You’re not jealous of those girls. He understands this rule, it would be a mess if he needed to explain to every girl why you’re living with him and that you’re not his girlfriend. Plus, maybe he should stop bringing this many girls to his apartment. His phone is blowing up by the ones who he gave his number, a lot of them expect something more - while he made clear it would be a one time thing. And maybe, really maybe, it’s not fair for those girls that he uses them to forget about you for a bit.
Some stupid plan that doesn’t even work anyways. Every time a girl is laying underneath him, he can only imagine that it’s you. He wonders how it would feel when it was actually you. How you would sound. There have been many girls, but he thinks about the same girl every time. You.
“That’s okay,” Lando responds to your rule, “I’ll try.”
You nod satisfied. “And maybe you can also tone it down a bit with the sexual remarks towards me?” You ask him after your succes.
“No, no,” Lando quickly replies, “I want to say to you what I think.”
You roll your eyes, but don’t say anything else on the subject. “How do you want to do this Lando?” You ask him eventually. “Do you want to live together or next to each other? Want to have dinner together or? I really don’t know how this can work.”
“Let’s try to live together,” Lando tells you hopefully, “We can have dinner together and inform each other a bit about when we’re home or not.”
“Sure?” You ask surprised. You expected him to chose the other option.
“Sure babygirl.”
+++
That evening the two of you decided that Lando could have a cheat day with his healthy diet. Together you ordered some take out.
“Remember when you DM’ed this girl to get McDonalds with you,” you tease when Lando offers to order some McDonalds. He sends you an angry glare. “She didn’t seem to interested,” you continue to tease.
“Are you going to eat McDonalds with me or not?” Lando asks you annoyed, “because otherwise I’ll find a girl who will.”
After eating together, you decided to test out the bathroom by taking a shower. When you walk in nothing more then a small towel wrapped around your body back to your bedroom, you decide that you will unpack and organize tomorrow. For now you only need to find something to sleep in. You rummage through your bagage, but there’s no pyjama in sight. Fuck. Clothes are quickly scattered around on the bedroom floor.
“Fuck,” you mutter.
You wonder if Lando has something you can wear for tonight, tomorrow you can get your other stuff. In nothing more then a towel on your body, you walk out of your room and start to search for Lando. You hold the towel closely to your body, not wanting to flash Lando. He isn’t in the living room or kitchen, you continue to search. When you hear noises coming out of his game room, you softly knock on the door.
“Lando?” You ask while knocking again.
In no time the door is opened. Lando is standing in front of you. You feel a bit distracted when you look at Lando. In some weird way you can’t stop looking at him. The earlier hoodie he was wearing has made place for a white blouse. It suits him. He looks so fine. Fuck.
“Can I borrow one of your shirts?” You ask him.
Lando doesn’t know what to think, or what to say, or what to do. His eyes are glued on the towel that’s wrapped around your body. Is it really the only thing you’re wearing right now? He can’t even think or function properly right now. He can’t look away from your almost bare body. Fuck, he already knows what he’s thinking about the next couple times while trying to orgasm. Your body looks even better then he already thought. He notices your curves and the way the towel accentuates them even more.
“Did you hear me?” It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts.
“Oh no sorry,” he quickly mutters. He tries to look you in the eyes, but his eyes keep hanging on your body. He focusses on your breasts which are almost in his sight. It’s not hard to miss that you’re a bit cold, your nipples are coming through the towel.
“I wondered if you have something for me to sleep in?” You ask Lando again, surprised he didn’t hear you the first time. “I forgot my pajamas at home.”
“Of course,” Lando quickly replies. He takes you with him to his bedroom and searches through his closet for a bit. When he found a particular shirt, he’s quick to hand it to you. It’s not a coincidence that he chose a shirt with his name all over it. He hopes he’s going to see you into it. Within seconds you have left him alone again.
Lando sighs and walks back to the other room. This is going to be hard for him, but he can only hope that he’ll manage to win your heart eventually. When his phone vibrates, he quickly looks at it.
Max: Explain how I’m FaceTiming with Y/N and seeing her in one of your shirts already???
writers note ; don't really know yet how i'm going to write this one, so every idea is welcome :) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! ps; i changed the playlist link to a new one
