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smut ﹙ 𝒲hen did you get hot ? with PERCY JACKSON

cw sex in a bathroom / vague plot? implied mortal ! reader

Fuck. You did not remember Percy Jackson ― awkward, too much energy, no off switch, loudmouth, loser Percy Jackson ― to turn into... into this. Your mouth is agape, you're sure, heated cheeks and surprised expression when you look him over. Then again, and again and... "Eh, you do remember Percy, yeah?"

Your friend smiles at you as you're reintroduced, they are not acknowledging his obvious changes ― major changes at that ! ― like, at all. And for a moment you think you're insane but, no, Percy Jackson did change. In fact, he turned... hot. Taller, more buff, hell, he looked like he fought Monsters on a daily. But that was just silly, yeah?

You merely nod in agreement, at least you think you do, but your focus is definitely somewhere entirely else, and your thoughts wander to things that you needed a lot more liquid courage for. And Percy is just ahh ― boyish smile on his face when he greets you by your name, which, you didn't think he would even remember? From all the schools he had gone to, you swear that yours was the one he'd spent the least of the years in. But you feel warm nonetheless when he says it.

The both of you find a quieter corner, then, alone. You ask him about this 'camp' he'd vanished to, and he answers vaguely, but you don't mind it in the slightest. You find other things to talk about and, quietly, you thank the lord for... all that.

Percy is smooth when he speaks, he doesn't stutter nor does he seem shy ― the only traces of the awkward kid you remember lay in the way he completely fumbled the words of a drink and the slight sarcasm that laced his every word. He makes you laugh, though, and the boy finds it all so endearing how you think he doesn't notice just how much you stare.

His face, his arms, hell, even just how his baggy jeans hang from his hips makes your mouth water ― you just know it's big. And you're more than eager to find out.

Percy Jackson doesn't even question you when your hand wraps around his wrist ― your palm barely fits around it... ― and quietly lead him away from the ongoing party and to a cramped bathroom. Your cheeky smile does things to him, he doesn't want to admit, nor cares to. You're confident, he gives you that, and it's awfully attractive. But, maybe, a small little darker part of him wants to see you wide-eyed and swallowing. He wants to see you doubt if you can handle him.

And that alone has him possessed to lock the door behind you.

Now Percy is all gentle yet commanding hands when he lifts you onto the nearest surface, slotting himself right between your parted legs like he belongs. The easiness of how he handles you has you slick with want, and Percy Jackson brushes his rough palms ( corse skin from all the training and saving the world and ahh ) over your exposed skin like a worshiper. And you get the feeling he's quite familiar with prayers and sin.

He breathes trouble and yet you feel so utterly safe, it's getting seriously ridiculous.

You can feel him through his god-damn jeans and all it does is make you even more hot and bothered, the possibilities are all laid out and your fingers find a way to his arms, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and Percy swears you look at him like he's your prey. He's into that, he realizes ― mutual devotion makes him embarrassingly hard. And the way your greedy fingers trail down his shirt, feeling him up with a hungry gaze... he's a goner!

His green gaze is right back on your sinful face when you grab him by his belt and ask if he wants to show you all of his new improvements. And he doesn't say no, God's no !

It's all teeth and tongue when his mouth meets yours. Clothes fall away, and you're so eager to touch all of him, Percy groans, you moan, and your bare butt gets pushed against the suspiciously squeaky old wooden counter that might not even hold until the end of this. And you're breathless and clawing your way into his pants like a surprise awaits you there. Percy doesn't even let you see, when he aligns himself..., but you so feel the slight stretch. "Fuck..." a sigh leaves your lips, and the boy can't help but grin a little proudly when you more or less acknowledge his size.

He's big, okay? But... "You can take it," he promises with a condescending pat to your head, and you can only roll your eyes into the back of your head when he fully slips in. He nudges the right spot right away, and a little noise escapes your throat, almost like a sob. It's almost embarrassing, but it feels so good, it almost makes you a little emotional. Instead, though, you push yourself forward and swallow even more of him until there is literally no way you'll fit any more.

But that's fine. Percy hums at the feeling of you squeezing him, it makes his cheeks a little red and his hands strain against the counter of where he's gripping it like his life depends on it.

It's dirty and gritty, and you relish in the way you do make him at least a little shy. when you practically roll your hips against his pelvis, resulting in a breathless moan from the both of you. It's good, so, so good. Percy leans even closer, so that his face is right in front of yours, not to kiss, but to see each and every expression clearly. He needs this, he thinks, needs to breathe you in while he makes you fall apart.

Your lips are only a breath away and your gaze is locked. The air inside the bathroom quickly grows hazy with each and every drag of his cock against all your special spots ♡ He's loud, and you love that even more! Each and every whimper, sigh and moan, you gobble it up like a personal compliment. And so did he.

The scent of sweat and sex makes you hazy, more slow in your movements, and Percy is right there with you, rubbing you silly until his name sounds more like a prayer. And you're so close, that the mere feeling of him twitching inside of you has you to see stars even before your body realizes that you're coming undone right there in some stranger's bathroom..., filled with a sticky warm of a boy you used to find utterly annoying... / Just when did Percy Jackson get so hot ?

𓂃 🖊 more .

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castellandiary

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ passion

fluff percy kissing u senseless after a loong day of training and watching over the younger kids. aged up percy by a little. wc: ~900

the thing about percy is that he doesn't do anything halfway.

when he fights, he's all in—sword swinging, water swirling, that wild grin on his face like he was born for it. when he's helping the younger campers, he's crouched down at their level, tying their shoes, fixing their armor straps, making them laugh until they forget they were homesick. and when he kisses you? gods, when he kisses you, it's like the rest of the world just stops existing. literally one of aphrodite’s exemplar couple’s.

today's been long. like, really long. the kind of day where you've been up since dawn running drills, where your muscles ache in places you didn't know you even had muscles, where you've broken up around five arguments between ten-year-olds about whose turn it is with the practice dummy. you're pretty sure there's still some weird concoction in your hair from when one of the athena kids' contraptions exploded at lunch. this is not quite what you signed up for when you came to camp half-blood. nemesis strikes even harder this time…

percy's been in the same boat. you watched him all day—teaching sword fighting to the newer campers, diving into the lake to retrieve a kid's lost retainer (gross, but very percy…), then spending an hour explaining to a homesick child from cabin seven why camp half-blood is actually pretty cool once you get used to the whole monsters-and-quests thing.

now it's finally evening. the sun's setting over the sound, painting everything gold and pink, and most of the campers are at the campfire. you can hear a mixture of heavenly blessed voices with off-key and… terrible singing voices. but it’s in a way where it kinda gives you nostalgia when you and percy were younger at camp half blood.

you're sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, taking in the beautiful sight of the pink hue and the yellow in the sky colliding with blue and purple hues.

then there's footsteps—that familiar, slightly uneven gait because percy's always in a hurry to get somewhere. the dock creaks as he drops down beside you, close enough that his shoulder bumps yours.

"hey," he says, and his voice is soft, a little rough around the edges. tired.

“hey,” you say gently, looking at him to be met with percy’s face contorted into somewhat of a half smile and half frown.

for a minute, you both just sit there. his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together like it's an instinct— a habit, almost. his thumb traces random shapes and patterns on your skin, and you can feel him unwinding beside you, the tension of the day slowly melting away.

"you've got—" he reaches over with his free hand, and you feel him gently pulling something from your hair. "—weird gooey stuff in your hair. still."

you groan, your fingers finding the weird spot of slime in your hair. "i know. that's not coming out without a serious shower."

he laughs, that dorky, wonderful laugh that makes your chest feel warm. "i've got seaweed in my pocket, so. we're both disasters."

"seaweed-brain with seaweed in his pocket? that’s so comical. and cute.”

"well… what can i say? i’m very humorous! the little kids think so,”

you turn to look at him, and gods, he's beautiful in this light. his dark hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction. there's a smudge of dirt on his cheek and what looks like marker on his neck (probably from the arts and crafts session). his eyes are tired but so, so green, like the ocean on a sunny day.

"you're staring," he says, but he's smiling.

"you're worth staring at." you wipe the dirt off his cheek with your thumb, savoring every single second you can adore and admire his pretty face.

his ears go pink. even after all this time, you can still make him blush, and it's adorable.

"shut up," he mumbles, but he's grinning now, that lopsided grin that makes your heart do stupid things.

he leans in, and his hand comes up to cup your face, gentle despite all the food fights and hangry children he had to deal with, he feels at peace with you. his thumb brushes your cheekbone, and he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters.

"i missed you today, y’know?" he whispers, even though you've been at the same camp all day, even though you've seen each other a dozen times.

"missed you too, perseus, you dork.” you chuckle at the sight of his face flushing a soft pink color.

then he's kissing you, sweet and gentle like he's got all the time in the world. it feels like he’s trying to pour all the stress and exhaustion into one big kiss. (cutie) his other hand finds it’s way in your hair, and you’re sure you almost stop breathing for a moment.

he kisses like he does everything else—completely, utterly, without reservation. like you're the only person in the world, like nothing else matters except this, except you.

when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard, and he's got that dazed, dopey expression that makes him look about twelve years old again.

"uhm… sorry," he says with a genuine sheepish grin on his face, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

you laugh, breathless. "you might be a seaweed brain, but at least your a good kisser.”

he grins and pulls you closer, tucking you against his side. the water laps gently at the dock posts, and in the distance, the campfire in the distance songs continue.

"same time tomorrow?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"wouldn't miss it."

and you mean it.

sacrificiallane

suggestive ﹙𝒯ender with PERCY JACKSON

Blah blah blah ... proper name, place name, backstory stuff...

"Hey!" Only when you snapped your fingers right in front of his face, did Percy Jacksons gaze quickly trail up your body ― your beautiful and exposed body, meant to tease him ( he was sure ) as you were only dressed in one of his large shirts ― and back up to your face of where he would find a rather unimpressed look. Oh... was he supposed to react to something you just said?

He was caught! And so Percy slowly shook his head, no, then, he nodded... and a noise of equally agreement as of disagreement chimed from him.

Obviously, he hadn't been listening. His eyes had been focused on other things... like appreciating his girlfriend.

More like ogling.

It was unfair, how you were trying to have a serious conversation with him now. When you were practically glowing, tempting him with every breath, every sigh... everything that had your skin move even just a little bit. And oh how he wanted to drag his hands across every inch of you...

"You're not listening." A statement, really. And you'd be proven right, of course.

And well, there was no denying it now ; He wasn't listening. "I wasn't."

You sighed. You were not exactly disappointed, or surprised. It was easy to amaze Percy with just a sliver of your skin. ( Hey, and maybe you were even a little proud that only you made him this helpless, with nothing but your thighs exposed, unkempt hair, and a little bit of golden light shining through the blinds...)

Your boyfriend all but pouted at your sigh and followed silence, "it's just so hard..." he tried to explain (half-heartedly).

There was a long pause as his eyes gradually moved down again, taking you in like you were everything he could ever ask the gods for. His tongue held even more words that he only let go of when he reached the hem of the shirt, "i'm hard..."

At any other day, you might've rolled your eyes at him and his stupidity, annoyed and maybe even a little amused because that was just so him. Plain, honest, and utterly smitten by you...

But, it was in the way he said it so softly, how he didn't reach for you right away (and never without your okay) and how his gaze wasn't hungry but oh so adoring and longing... that had you undeniable hot and wanting.

You shuddered, and Percy smiled wide ― boyish. "Can i touch you?" His sweet question brought a familiar warmth to your chest, and you didn't deny him. You rarely did.

Because Percy never took your okay as something to take advantage of, his hands never reached for your butt first, or your chest, or even your hips. His warm palms always, always cradled your face first, holding it like it was something precious... even if his body wanted you in ways he couldn't quite put into words.

He always craved your heart first. Only then would he take you apart ♡

𓂃 🖊 more .

sacrificiallane

𖥔 ✴️ . ノ Do you ever wish you were strong enough . . .

◜ pairing ⸝⸝ Percy Jackson & gn ! reader

◟ request ! ୧ ' ... if your requests are open, can I please request something with Percy Jackson where the reader is doing the " do you ever wish you were strong enough to win a fight? " trend? please and thank you! '

Tugged into his side , with your legs thrown over his lap and your head leaned against his chest ... basically just lounging, an idea came to mind to disturb your boyfriends' peace and quiet. "Hey Perce ..." "Hm ?"

The boy was barely awake at this point — until you asked ;

"Do you ever wish you were like ... strong?"

Immediate silence followed your question, and for a moment you weren’t even sure he heard you. You tilted your head upwards then , seeking for signs that your boyfriend was even still coherent. But he did hear you. Loud and clear , even. Percy just wasn’t really sure if what he heard was … you know , what he heard.

"Pardon?" His sea green eyes blinked down at you , slowly , unsure. Did you really just ask him that. His mind reeled — were you blind ?? Did you not see how awesome he was !! Where were you when he saved the world ( more than once —) But Percy is sure — his mind isn’t tricking him — you were there. You did know. So ?

"Yeah like … Do you ever wish you were strong enough to like win a fight or something ?" You said it so genuinely that he choked on his spit — did you not know how awesome he was ?? You watched him shift on his sheets , his face barely an inch away from his , and … he looked about ready to whine.

"I'm plenty strong, Baby … ?" A pout follows his half statement half question , and you just tilt your head. Did you not know ?? Warm palms find a way to your cheeks , and he squeezes gently, turning your head left and right , "Baby ???"

You know he wants assurance — want's praise. But you little game is far from over. Instead , you hum , thoughtful expression and all "I saw Annabeth with against you once, though?" Oh. Oh … he is up before you can say any more , his hand delicately — softly — wrapped around your wrist as he tucks you with him to stand. He doesn’t know why you would ask him something like that , but he is eager to proof himself — proof that he is strong.

His biceps flexes when he throws you over his shoulder , and you giggle at the sudden manhandling — "Try and fight me then, hm ?" And obviously , you can‘t get away , you flail your legs , your arms too … but your hands are holding onto his shoulder scared that he might drop you if you try too hard. Breathless laughter follows when he barely tightens his grasp.

"You even trying Baby?"

It's fun and games until he throws you onto your back on his bed , large palm behind your head so you won't accidentally bang it against the headrest … Percy is on top of you before you can even utter that it was just a joke. That he is strong.

A large boyish smile spreads over his face — dimples and all — and he presses your arms over your head , into the mattress. "Say it …" "Nu uh —" But there was no denying it. Your boyfriend was strong — so , so strong. You couldn’t get out of his grasp , couldn’t escape. So with a playful defeated pout , you finally nodded , "Okay, okay … you're strong." "And ?"

"And … you would win in a fight , you win fights , you're the strongest …" You try to get out from underneath him again , but Percy still won't let you — a triumphant little smile on his freckled face when he leans down to kiss your lips. It's a long soft kiss that has you panting a little when he leans away , has you try and follow his mouth … he doesn’t let you. Instead , Percy bundles you back into his side , "Oh, i know ."

Self-assured prick …

° ‧ 𓆝 more . . . 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

bvrnesher

★ ─── 𝑵ot nearly ℯnough

❛ Oh, I think I like you more than I should... and it’s pointless to tell you now. ❜

pairing : percy jackson ! reader. warnings : short smut. grinding. suggestive. nsfw. pretty cute, actually. best friends to... ?

───﹙1﹚YOU WEREN’T EVEN SURE weren’t even sure when the music had turned into background noise. One minute it was there—loud, alive, full of laughter and bass lines you used to know by heart. The next, it was gone. Like someone had flipped a switch and the world outside Percy’s room just… stopped existing. All that was left was this weird kind of silence, like the air had thickened and folded in on itself. An invisible bubble, cutting you off from the party he threw and then ghosted. Because yeah—he’d disappeared before anyone else noticed.

Now he was here. Flat on his back on the floor like he’d been knocked out by his own night. Staring at the ceiling like it held answers. Hair a mess. Lips parted like breathing had become a little too complicated. The life of the party, crumpled in his bedroom like a half-finished thought. Somewhere between tipsy and undone. That strange, floaty space where nothing feels real and time just gives up trying to matter.

You’d fallen asleep on the carpet. Curled up like something small and warm trying to survive the night. You didn’t know how long you’d been out—just that when you finally started to come back to your body, the world was tilting. A little too sideways. A little too soft around the edges. Your head was pounding. Your thoughts were somewhere two planets over. Everything about the room felt hazy, like a dream you’d forgotten.

And then—you felt it.

First came the weight. Warm. Gentle. Resting across your waist like it had always belonged there. Then the breath. Soft. Human. Ghosting over the curve of your neck with enough constancy to raise goosebumps before your brain could catch up. Then, a nudge of a nose, something so instinctive, so quietly animal, it almost didn’t feel real.

And then your eyes—already open but still blurry—began to make sense of the scene. The texture of the carpet beneath your cheek sharpened. And with it, came certainty.

The arm wrapped around you. The scent that clung to the air around you—salt, wood, alcohol, the faintest trace of grass, and a bit of sweat. The smell of home. The smell of him.

Percy.

There was no real surprise. Not deep down. Just a quiet recognition that lit something in your chest. You’d felt him before you were fully awake. It was like your body had remembered him before your mind had caught up.

“Mhm...” he murmured, voice barely audible, a low, soft sound like he was protesting the shift you made while trying to turn toward him. But his arms didn’t pull away. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t let go.

If anything, Percy only pulled you closer.

Even in that half-conscious state, he found a way to gather you tighter against him, molding his body to yours with a kind of tender clumsiness, pressing his face into the curve of your neck like it was a place he knew by heart. And your heart—betrayer, traitor—started beating faster. Not out of fear. Not even out of nerves. It was something else. The sudden awareness of how intimate it was. The way his lips brushed your skin. The way he was breathing you in, your perfume tangled now with the warm air of a closed room and the distant ghost of a party that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

But you weren’t nervous. Not like that.

In fact, it was… comfortable. Too comfortable.

Being in Percy’s arms felt like remembering something your body already knew. Something learned through time, through habit, through a trust that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. It wasn’t new. You and Percy had always been close—quietly, effortlessly close. You’d shared space like it meant nothing. Since you were twelve, you’d done everything together. Sleeping in the same bed wasn’t new. Holding hands while one of you quietly fell apart? That was routine. You had been each other’s home for so long, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

And just when your breathing started to even out again—just when your mind began to believe it could handle this closeness—Percy whispered against your skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

No warning. No buildup. Just a single question that landed in the silence like a pebble in still water. It caught you off guard. Left you stunned. You’d heard those words before… but now, laced with alcohol, the softness of the moment, and the altered haze Percy was clearly in, they felt different.

And you… you weren’t quite as drunk. Just enough to understand that even in his quiet slur, his words were real.

“I asked if I can kiss you…” Percy murmured again, voice thick and sleepy, pulling you from your thoughts just as his fingers gently found your chin. His hand closed around it with a quiet sort of reverence, guiding your face toward his with a tenderness that undid you.

You didn’t hesitate.

You nodded—just barely, a small movement, so slight it felt like your body had answered before your mind. After all, he’d kissed you before. On the cheek. On the hands. The forehead. The temple. Safe places. Familiar, affectionate places. You thought about that—about all those gestures that had always been so Percy—until your thoughts shattered.

Because this time, his lips found yours.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Too many times.

More than you should for a kiss.

Percy pulled back a breath’s width, his green eyes on you—sharp, searching, almost nervous—as if he was studying your face for a sign, anything. His arm still around your waist, he carefully turned you toward him, until you were facing each other on the carpet, like the whole world had shrunk to just that space between your bodies.

You didn’t make a sound. Didn’t offer a word or a nod to guide him. But still, he raised his hand with a slowness that felt sacred, his knuckles brushing your cheek with a softness that asked permission as he leaned in again.

“Can I…?” he whispered again, his breath stirring the air between you, full of doubt and want.

This time, your heart slammed into your ribs like it was trying to break free. You didn’t know if it was from surprise or how stupid you felt for not understanding the first time. You’d clung so hard to the familiar, to the idea that his touches were nothing more than comfort. But they weren’t. Not now. Not with the way his lips had reached for yours.

You moved toward him without thinking—until the warmth of his chest melted into yours. His hand found your jaw again, gentle but sure, and pulled you closer, as if he wasn’t sure he could do it without your help. His lips brushed yours once more—a promise disguised as breath—and his question lingered in the air.

Again, you nodded.

And then Percy kissed you.

He kissed you with the awkwardness of firsts and the tenderness of inevitability. His breath mixed with yours, warm, close, as his lips—salty, a little sweet, entirely him—gave you a kiss that trembled more from emotion than uncertainty. Like he was finally exploring a map that had always been right in front of him.

Warmth spread through your face, curling under your skin. And for a brief, aching second, you wondered how drunk he must be to do this… and how sober you were to let it happen.

His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair with charming clumsiness. He tugged gently—just enough to tilt your head—and deepened the kiss, still wrapped in that soft cloud of not-quite-sure.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured into your mouth, voice a whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

A low, pleased hum escaped him, and he kissed you again. And again. And again. Time became a strange thing, slipping between mouths and hands like water through fingers. Maybe it went fast. Maybe slow. You didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Percy had always felt like a piece of you. Your other half, if you wanted to be poetic—and tonight, everything begged you to be. He knew you in ways no one else did. And you knew him back. Knew him deeply. Knew him completely. And now… now you were sharing kisses, too. Kisses you couldn’t count anymore. Awkward. Sweet. Brimming with silence that said more than any words ever could.

His arms stayed wrapped around you like a shelter you’d never outgrown. And at some point, your hand found his jaw, grounding him, pulling him closer, like you were trying to melt into his mouth the same way you’d melted into his bed so many nights before.

You weren’t even sure when friendship had slipped into something else.

One moment Percy was clumsy, half-falling over you on the carpet with the weight of too much alcohol and not enough balance. The next, he was holding himself up on one arm, his breath fanning over your face, his body pressed to yours like it had always belonged there.

It should’ve felt accidental. A drunk stumble. A mistake. But then his hand moved—too slow, too deliberate. From your waist, to your hip, down the curve of your thigh until it found the soft bend of your knee. And suddenly, there was nothing accidental about it.

The world narrowed. His mouth never left yours, the kiss stretching on and on until it felt like time itself had folded. When he eased your legs apart, careful but instinctive, and settled into the space between them, you weren’t shocked. You weren’t even nervous. Just… awake. More awake than you’d ever been.

“Percy,” you sighed when his lips began to wander—down your jaw, soft and reverent, in rhythm with the way his hand drifted back up your leg, skimming your skin beneath the hem of your skirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hushed like it had been stolen straight from a dream. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was flushed. And still—he didn’t stop. Not really. He just paused long enough to breathe the question against your skin: “Do you want me to stop?”

Your chest rose too fast, lungs working overtime as his hand froze against your thigh. He waited. His mouth kept brushing your jaw, slow, insistent, leaving marks that spoke less of closeness and more of longing.

You shook your head before you could think. A small “no” tumbled from your lips, instinctive, unfiltered. It didn’t scare you. It didn’t even surprise you. You felt… safe. Certain. And how many times in life do you get to feel that sure?

Percy lifted his head, just barely, searching for you in the dark. Moonlight carved out the faintest edges of him—his eyes, his mouth, the worry that clung to both. He looked at you like he was waiting for the truth, even if it hurt.

“You…” his voice wavered, softer now, “you’re beautiful. I don’t tell you nearly as often as I think it.”

The words hit harder than his hands ever could. Your throat went tight, every reply you’d ever imagined dying on your tongue. All those clever, practiced things you thought you’d say if this moment ever came—gone. Erased. Nothing left but the tiniest, breathless squeak.

“What?”

Percy smiled, dazed and a little crooked, like he couldn’t believe he’d said it either.

“I just… I don’t tell you how gorgeous you look all the time, not nearly enough,” he said, his thumb brushing your skin as if to prove it. His lips hovered close, steadying himself on you. “Every time I see you, you make me want to smile.”

It wasn’t sassy. Not cocky or sharp like most of things that usually left his mouth. It was sincere. Whispered. Like a secret he’d been holding too long. And that—more than his hand now sliding higher, more than the way he pressed into you—was what made your heart stop.

He bent to kiss your lips once more, then trailed down to your neck, leaving warm, reverent kisses—the kind that spoke not of impulse, but of years spent holding back.

A sigh ghosted against your skin as his hand squeezed your ass gently before retreating to your thigh again.

“Smile?” you managed, the only fragment your brain could salvage from everything spinning through you. “Percy… you’re drunk.”

You felt him grin against your neck, a breathy laugh rumbling low in his chest. His voice returned, closer to the Percy you knew, but still stripped down—sincere, almost raw.

“Drunks are more honest, aren’t they?” he whispered, teeth grazing your skin before his tongue soothed the mark.

One of your hands threaded into his messy black hair, tangling there, while the other clutched his wrist—the one already resting far, far too high between your thighs to be innocent.

“Percy,” you gasped, his name falling from your mouth broken, breathless, as heat climbed your cheeks, painting them scarlet while something heavy and molten curled low in your stomach—something you never thought Percy could make you feel.

“Too fast?” he murmured, almost embarrassed, though his hand didn’t stop moving. “Sorry. I just… I've never had the courage until now.”

That meant—before the thought could even finish forming, you felt him shift. His hand brushed your panties, just barely, before slipping away, replaced by the press of his hips nestled between your legs, now fully parted for him.

“I think… um… it’s kind of obvious I like you,” he mumbled, almost sheepish.

And maybe you would’ve believed the embarrassment if not for the hard line straining against his clothes, pressing insistently against you. Or maybe he was embarrassed, and simply too drunk to care.

“That doesn’t feel like a pen,” was all you managed to blurt out.

Silence stretched, awkward and fragile, neither of you sure what to do with it.

“Well… no. Not Riptide,” he admitted, his voice trembling too much to be a proper joke. “It’s just… um… me.”

Percy looked at you. You looked back. Flustered. Overheated. The room suddenly too small, too hot, his hips against yours, his hard-on pressed firmly to you.

“It’s—” you started, then you nodded as if confirming something to yourself. “We should stop.”

You both nodded. But neither of you moved. Still tangled on the carpet in the middle of his room.

“Mhm, the carpet isn’t exactly comfortable for this,” he muttered.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered, like he was being stupid.

A grin slipped across his pretty face, his shoulders shrugging, hips pressing ever so slightly against you. “I know.”

That earned him a sharp tug to his hair, pulling a low, rough laugh out of him before he leaned back down, catching your lips in a kiss far more deliberate this time. His hips began to grind against you, slow but certain, while his hand slipped beneath your shirt and drew a helpless gasp from your throat.

“It’s not like you actually want me to stop,” he said softly—by the time both of you were already half-naked.

'Cause this was Percy.

The boy who knew every version of you. The boy who used to press glow-in-the-dark sea creatures to his ceiling so he wouldn’t feel alone. They were still there. The meanings had changed, but they’d stayed. And now, when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t just the sea of plastic stars he saw.

It was you.

You, with your cheek pressed to his chest, lashes soft against your skin, breathing steady—the kind of steady that only comes when you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

───﹙2﹚ ❛ Shit, shit, shit, ❜ he cursed between kisses, cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. His mouth barely left yours except to drag over your jaw, to bite at your throat like he was starving and you were the only thing left to taste. His hair was a mess against your face, curls damp with sweat, the scent of him salt-and-fire, like ocean air trapped in the small dark of the room.

You were half-naked already, his shirt tossed to the side, your skirt bunched around your waist, panties dangling from one ankle. His cock pressed heavy and leaking against your folds, sliding through the slickness he’d already drawn out of you. Each time he dragged against your clit you felt your breath hitch, and Percy shuddered like he was the one unraveling.

“Gods,” he gasped, nudging at your entrance, not quite pushing in. His voice cracked when he whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Then he pushed—slow, like he was terrified of breaking you, the blunt head of his cock parting you inch by inch. Your body clenched around him instinctively, sucking him in, making his whole frame jolt. He dropped his forehead to yours, groaning deep in his chest, every muscle trembling with the effort not to move too fast.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, voice wrecked, “you feel—oh gods, you feel unreal.”

When he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, Percy went still. His cock throbbed inside you, his breath ragged against your cheek. “Don’t move,” he pleaded, eyes squeezed shut, “just give me a second, or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

But you did move, clenching around him, and the sound that ripped out of him was a choked, boyish whine he’d never live down. His hips stuttered forward before he could stop himself. “Shit—don’t do that—fuck, I mean, do it again, please, oh my gods—”

He started to thrust then, shallow at first, messy, his rhythm broken by groans and half-laughs every time he bottomed out. His cock slid in and out of you with wet, obscene sounds that filled the quiet room, slick from how soaked you were for him.

“You’re so wet,” he blurted, biting down on your shoulder, words muffled against your skin. “For me—fuck—you’re dripping all over me.” His hand fumbled between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing too rough at first until he adjusted, circling it sloppily but desperate to make you fall apart.

Your moan spurred him on. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, each one punching a curse or your name from his lips. He couldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop blurting the things he’d swallowed for years.

“You’re perfect—fuck—you’re mine, right? Say it—please—tell me you’re mine.”

When your walls fluttered around him, he nearly collapsed. His thrusts turned frantic, hips grinding against you as his fingers worked your clit. “Come for me,” he begged, voice breaking, “please, I wanna feel it—I need to feel you come on my cock.”

You did, shattering around him, back arching, a moan tearing from your throat. Percy cried out with you, voice hoarse, hips slamming deep as your pussy clenched tight around him. He was gone then, fucking you through your orgasm with frantic, sloppy thrusts until he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m coming—” he gasped, pulling you tight against him as his cock jerked inside you, spilling hot, thick spurts deep into your cunt. He moaned your name like a prayer, riding it out until he was shaking, hips twitching with aftershocks.

He collapsed on top of you, still buried inside, sweat-slick skin pressed against yours. His breath came in uneven gasps, his body trembling with the afterglow. Then, muffled against your neck, he blurted the words he’d never meant to say out loud:

“I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His breath caught, panic flashing across his face as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. His lips were red, swollen, his dark hair plastered to his forehead.

“I mean it,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t care if it ruins everything, I just—I love you. I’ve probably loved you since forever.” He laughed nervously, boyish, as if trying to soften it. “Gods, you probably think I’m insane.”

But you didn’t. And when you pulled him down to kiss him again, slow and tender, Percy melted, all the tension draining from him. He kissed you back with everything he had, still pulsing inside you, still hardening again with every roll of his hips.

His grin broke through then, sheepish, flushed, but playful in a way he only ever was with you. “Round two?” he asked, breathless, before groaning and hiding his face in your neck. “Ignore me—I mean, unless you actually… want to.”

His cock twitched inside you, giving him away. You laughed softly, tugging at his curls, and Percy groaned, grinding into you instinctively, boyish and desperate all over again.

STORMY : comeback after like... a month and a half? I suck at writing smut btw, this will probably flop 'Cause tumblr hates me and decided not to show my post in most of the tags 🧍🏻‍♀️

masterlist. here reqs info. here

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bvrnesher

❝ Stop Moving ! ❞ ― percy jackson

warnings: smut. fingering. percy's a tease.

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

author note: stormy's shitty comeback 'cause school is kiling me and y'know how this whole student life works 🤘🏻

YOU ROLLED YOUR EYES. AGAIN.

Fifth time that night.

And fifth time you wondered what life decisions had led you to this exact moment—sore, exhausted, and forced to share a bed with a boy who apparently thought "sleep" was a full-contact sport.

Thanks, Aphrodite.

You were still aching from that less-than-fun sparring session with a daughter of Ares (because of course she had something to prove), and now—now—Percy Jackson, your boyfriend, your supposed safe space, was tossing, turning, yanking the sheets like he was reenacting the Battle of Manhattan with cotton and fluff.

“Percy,” you groaned, dragging out his name like it personally offended you. It was the sixteenth complaint in ten minutes, and still, the boy had the audacity to mess with your pillow like it belonged to him.

“Hm?” he muttered, completely unfazed, still wriggling around like a restless sea otter.

You sighed. “Stop moving. My neck hurts.”

That got his attention.

He stilled. Immediately. Completely.

For a second, you actually believed it. Believed that Percy had found, somewhere deep inside that half-god brain of his, a flicker of divine decency. That maybe—maybe—he’d be considerate, gentle, respectful.

But then you remembered who you were dating.

And sure enough, even with the lights off and only the silver glow of moonlight spilling through the windows of Cabin Three, you could feel his smirk forming like a threat on his stupidly kissable lips.

“Want me to help?” he offered, voice soft and innocent—dangerously so.

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you were speechless. Because you were calculating. Suspicious.

“How exactly?” you asked, narrowing your eyes into the dark.

In response, Percy shifted closer.

One arm slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest, the heat of him seeping through your thin summer nightgown like he’d been forged in a volcano instead of born in the sea. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling in, breathing you in like you were some kind of ocean-scented drug.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “How bad does it hurt?”

You should’ve kicked him. You should’ve.

But instead, you stayed perfectly still—tense as a bowstring—while his fingers slid beneath the silk hem of your nightgown, slowly exploring the skin of your stomach like he was mapping constellations.

“Bad enough that if you keep moving, I might kill you in your sleep,” you muttered darkly.

He laughed. Laughed. The bastard.

Soft and warm against your neck, the sound of it crawling over your skin like a shiver.

Then came the kisses.

Featherlight, maddeningly sweet, scattered along your shoulder, your jaw, your pulse point—each one making it very hard to maintain the moral high ground.

You squirmed when his hand cupped one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple just right—too right.

“Percy,” you warned, but it came out more breathy than threatening. Not great.

His hand didn’t stop. If anything, it got bolder. That thumb of his? Evil.

Your mouth said no.

Your body said please.

Your brain? Somewhere on vacation.

And Percy? He knew it.

“Mmm,” he practically purred, his mouth dragging across your neck like a prayer. “You’re already warm for me. Or should I slide my other hand between your thighs just to check?”

You hissed. Not because you were mad. Because he knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. Too good.

You hated him.

(You really didn’t.)

He shifted again, just enough so you could feel every inch of him pressed against your ass—hard, hot, very interested.

This was supposed to be sleep. Just sleep. Healing. Recovery.

And now your idiot boyfriend was tempting you into another kind of cardio.

“You are the worst,” you muttered.

Percy chuckled into your skin again. “Your worst,” he corrected smugly.

Gods help you.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were definitely not going to be walking straight in the morning.

You should’ve said no.

Simple. One syllable. One word. Easy.

Instead, you let Percy keep going, like your self-control had clocked out ten minutes ago and left your dignity behind with it.

Because the moment his hand slipped lower—slow, teasing, criminally gentle—you were gone.

Gone like your patience when the Aphrodite kids gave unsolicited advice.

Gone like Percy’s towel whenever you walked by the bathroom in shorts.

You bit your lip hard when his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, featherlight, barely there. Your legs tried to clamp shut on instinct, but Percy tsked softly and gently nudged one knee aside with his own, making space for mischief.

“So tense,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and smug, his tone that particular kind of gentle that meant he was feeling cocky and dangerous. “Thought I was supposed to be helping…”

You choked on a sound—somewhere between a groan and a desperate laugh. “You’re helping me forget the pain by replacing it with another,” you muttered, sarcastic, though even you could hear the tremble in your voice.

He loved that.

You could feel the grin stretch across his lips right before he bit down gently on your earlobe, making your hips jerk toward his hand completely on reflex. Which—unfortunately for your pride—he noticed.

“Oh?” He chuckled darkly, pressing his palm over the heat between your thighs, cupping you through the thin fabric of your panties. “Was that a twitch of approval, or do I need to verify?”

Gods.

He was a tease.

You also really wanted to slap the smug out of him, except you were currently paralyzed by the way his fingers were dragging slow, deliberate circles over your clothed heat—light enough to frustrate, precise enough to make your spine arch like it had a mind of its own.

“Percy…” you warned, though your tone was closer to a whimper than anything intimidating.

He hummed, pleased, and finally—finally—slipped his fingers beneath your panties. Just enough to touch skin. Just enough to ruin you.

His hand was warm. His touch? Pure sin.

“You’re soaked,” he muttered against your skin, as if surprised, like it wasn’t entirely his fault. “Poor thing… all sore and still dripping for me.”

If you had any brain cells left, they all screamed in protest.

But then he slid one finger between your folds, slow and deliberate, and just like that—complete silence in the upper chamber. Nothing but static and Percy’s voice whispering against your neck.

“Still hurts?” he asked sweetly.

You turned your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, but it lost some edge when his thumb brushed your clit, and you gasped—too sharp, too honest.

He grinned like he’d won. Because he had.

“Yeah,” you breathed, almost delirious, pressing your forehead against the pillow. “Still hurts. Everywhere. Especially my pride.”

He laughed again, and you felt it vibrate against your back, his chest flush to you. “I could try kissing it better,” he offered in that voice that really should not be legal.

“You’re a menace,” you muttered, even as you rocked your hips into his hand, seeking more, begging for more without saying a word.

“Only for you.”

Another kiss, another swipe of his fingers, and suddenly, your body wasn’t so sore anymore. Not in that way.

Your mind tried to hang on to the original plan—rest, sleep, recovery—but Percy Jackson had other ideas. Warm, slow, maddeningly good ideas.

And you?

You were doomed.

Because he was the one person who knew exactly how to take you apart.

Softly. Sweetly. One touch at a time.

julesssyy

𑣲 WON EITHER WAY ᝰ

erling haaland x fem!girlfriend!reader

summary : haaland's game gets delayed due to a storm. fortunately for both of you, he's been missing you lately.

content warning ! : 18+ themes, nsfw, unprotected p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving)

yasministration

meet the kids - bill weasley

summary: Your coworker Arthur Weasley is sick and tired of slipping his sons' names into conversation in an attempt to grasp your interest in them, so he pulls out photos of them and forms a plan to turn his work daughter into a daughter in law wc: 2.3k+ a/n: thank you to whoever requested this one, i had so much fun writing it! was very much thinking about ted danson in 'a man on the inside' while writing arthur!

The instant Mr. Weasley pulls out his wallet, you know it’s over for you. The clasp is barely holding the wallet shut, printed images stuffed between its leather flaps. You know what’s coming next. Somehow, every time you find yourself working closely Arthur, he manages to slip his children into conversation, particularly the oldest ones. You bet that if you ever meet them in real life, you’d instantly know which is which purely based on their father’s description of them.

“You should come by to dinner one night and meet the family. You’re part of my family now, so it’s only fair that the others get to meet you.” You laugh softly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as Arthur puts his glasses on, pulling the images out of his wallet. All you had done was drop off an artefact found at a crime scene involving both wizards and muggles, but of course a five minute trip would turn into twenty five minute conversation. You've barely even closed the case file and he's already started talking.

“This is a photo from our spring dinner. Bill and Charlie weren’t there, but those are the kids, you know their names.” You purse your lips to hide your amusement at the way Arthur instantly dismisses his younger children, then pulls out a photo of him and another redhead side by side. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, moving the photo closer to you so you can see the details of his son’s skin tight shirt. “That’s Charlie, he works at a dragon sanctuary. Strongest one in the pack.”

You nod slowly, smiling at Arthur. He’s very aware that you know of his intentions, but he keeps his eyes on you as he turns to the next image. “This is Bill, he’s the head of the curse breaking department at a bank in egypt, but he recently got a job at Gringotts, so he’s finally coming home.” You flicker your eyes down to the image and hate yourself for the way your eyes instantly widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the handsome man in the image. He stands with an arm around his younger sister, both of them carrying brooms in hand and looking sweaty and joyful after what looks like a family game of quidditch. “Well, it’s good to see that they all get along well, right?”

Arthur takes off his glasses, hooking them into the collar of his shirt, and shrugs. “Well, it depends on the day. Bill gets along with all of them, of course. Everyone loves Bill - very sociable guy.” You smile at Arthur, nodding at him. “Don’t worry Arthur, I believe you. Look, I was told to go inspect some artefacts from a new scene down in the lab, but I’ll join you for lunch, okay?”

Arthur spends all his time until lunch thinking about the reaction you had at the sight of Bill. Of course, it helps that he chose the best photo of his son; happy, caring, sweaty, playful. He had a feeling you’d like Bill over Charlie — he assumed you liked taller and older men. Not like Charlie who’s shorter than most of his siblings and a couple of months younger than you. Arthur may be a friendly old man, but he’s not by any means clueless. He knows you keep declining his family dinner invitations because you think it would be awkward or weird, and not because you’ve already made plans in advance. There’s no way you have the energy for your social life to keep you busy every single friday night for the past year. But he’ll find a way. Actually, he has found a way, he just needs to put his plan into action.

He picks a night he knows you’re in the office late, on a day where you’re wearing your nicest outfit. He doesn’t just want you to be impressed by Bill, but he wants you to impress Bill too. It’ll be effortless from your part, of course, because you won’t even know what’s happening. Arthur will say goodbye to you as he walks out of the bullpen and you’ll wave him off before turning back to your work. He knows your workload is heavier than his, and he really shouldn’t be complicating things for you but this is for the greater good, he tells himself. Arthur continues his own night as per usual. He heads home, has dinner with Molly and the kids, and just before dessert, he stages a workplace emergency.

Without telling his family, he pretends to have a personal epiphany, then begins sending a patronus message to his boss. “Sir, I just remembered I’m supposed to submit some signed documents by tonight, but David never sent them my way. I’m not exactly sure what the documents entail and it it’s just my signatures needed - how do you want me to proceed?” When Molly asks what’s wrong and if he needs to return to work, Arthur shakes his head in reassurance, telling her someone will sort things out.

Within ten minutes you’ll be here, Arthur knows that much for sure. This past week you’ve been working on a case that needed Arthur’s help in regards to the muggle artefacts, so whatever he needs, it will have your signature on it too.

You’re glad for the excuse to stretch your legs when you’re called into Richard’s office. He gives you a large file that David forgot to hand you, and tells you to drop it off at Arthur’s once you’ve finished signing in all the right places. It takes you a moment to sign everything, and you decide that the universe sent this to you as a sign to cut your night short after giving Arthur the documents. So you pack your things quickly and make your way to the apparation station at the ground floor. Arthur loves his family dinners, so you don’t think he’s going to be too thrilled about you interrupting with work, but he’s a sweet man. He’s not going to turn you away.

Your sleepiness affects your apparition skills, and you end up at the end of the Weasleys’s driveway instead of at their front door. You can hear joyful laughs coming from behind the house, warm lighting peeking through the open windows. You’ve been here once, but it was during term time with none of the kids at home. Now, the atmosphere is completely transformed. It must be amazing to have a group of friends right there whenever you come home. Family that you can play messy games of quidditch with, and annoy each other even after the lights have come off.

You knock on the front door three times, and instantly, the noise all around you dims. You hear someone call out “Was that the front door?” It takes about five seconds for the front door to swing open, and you instantly rethink the entire situation when Bill Weasley is the one stood facing you. He smiles at you, the slightest confusion hidden behind his irises, and when he finally speaks, you feel your chest grow heavy.

“Hi, Bill Weasley.”

“Hi, uh, I have some documents for your dad?”

Bill doesn’t get the chance to respond before Arthur is calling your name and entering the frame. “Come inside, dear, come in! What a pleasant surprise, I thought Richard would be sending David or some other unpleasant company.” You laugh softly at Arthur’s words, offering him the thick file. Bill moves out of the way when his dad puts a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the house, and he takes a moment to fully take you in.

He should have known.

His dad has never been slick with his moves, but Bill thought that since you work with him so closely, the mentions of your name weren’t slipped in conversation for Bill’s sake. As Arthur walks to the spotless dining table, he says “We work together! Albeit she works as an agent for inter-magiciary crimes and has a much more important job than I do.”

“Oh come on, half my cases I couldn’t solve without you, Arthur. You’re my forensic expert, as the muggles say.” Bill sees the way his dad’s eyes completely light up at your words, and despite not knowing what the meaning of your words are, he chuckles quietly. “Wouldn’t have taken you for an agent.” He says, eyeing your cinching button up and the patterned skirt you’re wearing. He likes your boots and jewellery too — they’re cool for such an intimidating job.

“I know,” Arthur begins as he flips open the file, “Too stylish for an agent, especially if you take a look at everyone else we were with.” You turn to Bill, smiling softly at him. “Arthur tells me you’re a curse breaker. Gringotts is a difficult place to get a position in, you know? Congratulations on that.”

Bill laughs nervous, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “Oh he told you about that? It’s not even finalised yet, but thank you.”

“Oh, he’s just thrilled to have you back home. Counts down the days at work every morning.”

“It’s true! What’s wrong in wanting to have my family reunited again?” You and Bill both laugh softly at Arthur’s words, and Bill rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, one might think you’re one of his kids with the way he speaks about you too.”

You smile widely, nudging Arthur softly and teasing “Oh Arthur you softie, do you really?”

Fully serious, Arthur straightens up and nods. “Yes, I worry about you sometimes. You never mention your family to me and I don’t want you to be lonely and sad all on your own.” Your expression softens at your coworker’s words and you tilt your head to the side, telling him “Hey, don’t you worry about me, I’ve got plenty of friends.”

“Friends that will bring you soup when you’re ill?” He questions, and you freeze, tilting your head even further as you think his question through. “Good question, I haven’t been ill recently enough to test that.”

“You have a healthy lifestyle, don’t you? Bill, she plays quidditch! A fan of the Chudley Canons too.” Bill smiles, placing his hands on his hips. “Ron would be thrilled to hear that. What position do you play?” He asks, and you shrug, “I’ve played as chaser and seeker for the team at hogwarts, but whenever I play now I just play chaser. What about you?”

“I’m a keeper. You played at hogwarts, you say? What house?” At his question, you turn to Arthur protection, but only find slight panic in his eyes. He instantly turns away from you, flipping to another page and quickly scribbling his signature, and you hear Bill’s teasing “Oh no.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” You joke, pulling your hair out of your face. Bill carefully takes in the newly exposed slivers of your face, eyeing the earrings that decorate your ears. “It’s been just about centuries since I’ve graduated, so I guess not.”

A flick of paper as Arthur shuts the file averts your attention from Bill, and you reach over to take the files from him. He shakes his head, saying “I’ll owl it back, don’t you worry.” You raise an eyebrow at the older man, clarifying “You’re going to owl classified documents?” Arthur nods — a response that tells you he’ll drop it off early in the morning tomorrow. “Come on, Weasley, give me the file or I’ll tell your wife.”

Bill cackles loudly at your friendly threat. Never in a million years would he have imagined a woman even younger than him to call his dad ‘Weasley’ in friendly banter. He finds it endearing that you’re both so comfortable with each other despite the obvious age gap between you. “But look at you, you’re all ready to go home.” Arthur complains, huffing as snatch the files from him again.

“It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me other than a cat who’s probably already asleep. Enjoy your night with your family, Arthur.”

“That upsets me.” The man says as you begin walking away, and you look back to shoot him an amused smile as you leave. Bill follows you to the front door, and you both linger there, waiting for the other to say something. “What year did you graduate?” He asks, and you hug the file to your chest as you say “1990.”

“Oh, you probably shared classes with my brother.” His eyebrows furrow as he thinks deeply, adding “We probably played quidditch games against each other.”

“Did you play that game where that slytherin girl got hit with a bludger by someone from her own team and she fell out of the sky and people said that she did it purposefully to skip Snape’s classes?”

Bill laughs with a nod of his head, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, yeah I remember that. Charlie was the one who told me about that rumour.” You open your arms to gesture to yourself, announcing “The one and only.” Bill’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No, and I can also confirm that the rumours were true. I hadn’t done any of my potions essays and didn’t fancy a detention that week.”

You and Bill both go silent, and you keep your eyes on the tall man in front of you despite noticing the way his dad lingers in the living room behind him. “We should definitely have a drink and discuss all of these crossovers. I can’t believe my dad’s coworker went to school with me.”

You shrug your shoulders, arguing “Well technically we don’t even work in the same departments, so… Yeah, send me an owl and we’ll sort something. Bye Arthur!”

From the living room, Arthur makes a surprised noise, shy to have been caught spying on you. He wishes you farewell as you leave, keeping his eyes on Bill as his oldest son shuts the door. As Bill spins around slowly, he mumbles “I hate to say this, but you’re actually onto something.”

fallinforerling

Hiiii

Massive fan of that smut series concept???

I have a request for if you feel like writing it. I just saw a video of Jack saying Erling is always the longest in the shower, so I was thinking almost getting caught with Erling?

Love you xx

in and out | erling haaland + some like it hot series

☆ warnings: +18 content, minors dni. p in v, unprotected sex, swearing.

ೃ⁀➷ some like it hot series

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

☆ prompt: almost getting caught

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

from all the ways your visit at the etihad stadium could’ve ended, this wasn’t on your list.

you didn’t know what was going on with him when he invited you—although it definitely felt like you had no option whatsoever— to visit him for a little personalized tour after training. it wasn’t like you hadn’t been there before; you’d visited the stadium a couple of times for matches but never been able to wander around the facilities due to the number of people present. today, you encountered what seemed like a totally different place; almost empty, the stadium was quiet except for the occasional scream or chat behind closed doors when you passed by them. erling walked next to you, chatting about the dressing room and how insanely large the showers were; he wasn’t fooling anyone, he was totally lurking you in the most private place on the stadium, where most of his teammates weren’t stepping a foot in. you noticed his wicked smile once he verified that the place was deserted. you could feel what he was trying to do, and that was because you wanted that as well.

it’s been months of fooling around, flirting, and mostly giving each other heated stares when you thought no one else was paying attention. you were just waiting for something to happen—something that could destroy or transform your relationship with erling. while you entered the dressing room and admired the row of seats, the kits hanging above the lockers and pretended to pay attention to the decoration while erling’s fingers brushed against your exposed arm, you could also feel his eyes burning holes in your whole figure due to the light sundress you insisted on wearing due to the hot weather in manchester. what a good decision.

the sexual tension wasn’t funny anymore. your skin was aching for his touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could bear this stupid back-and-forth you two had going on. this wasn’t normal between friends.

“that’s a cute dress, y’know?” you felt his hand caress your thigh once you took a seat in his booth, his touch sending goosebumps all over your body and an electric feeling that went straight to your core while his eyes were fixated on the way the material of your dress kept going upwards with every move you made.

“i thought you might like it.” you bit your lip, following the movements of his hand as his thumb started to massage your skin, making it difficult to act like you weren’t affected by it. like you weren’t dying to open your legs and let him do whatever he wanted to you. this was the most outrageous behavior you’d ever allowed yourself to have around him.

“i don’t like it.” the side of his mouth lifted, his eyes meeting yours. “i love it. covers just enough to make me wonder…”

“wonder what?” your eyes went to his hand, which hadn’t left your thigh.

“you know what.” you felt his hand brushing against your chin, tilting your head slightly, so you looked up. “wanna see the showers?”

his eyes were telling you a completely different story. you knew that if you said “yes”, you weren’t agreeing to see the showers. it could end in a big, horrible, disaster for both of you… but did it matter at this point?

“sure…” he smirked once the word left your lips, taking your hand, guiding you to the rows of very fancy doors, each open to reveal a very wide space where four people could easily fit. he was right about them being insanely big.

no words were exchanged as you both entered the last one in the row, the door slamming shut behind erling’s back. you turned, not knowing exactly what to expect; but as soon as your eyes met again, he grabbed you by the neck, making your body clash against his as his lips looked hungrily for yours. a gasp left your mouth, grabbing handfuls of his shirt as your back touched the cold tiles of the shower once he cornered you.

his kisses were fast, messy, and desperate. they felt like he’d waited way too long for it; as far as you were concerned, you did too. you met his pace, feeling as hungry for him as he seemed to be for you. not even your wildest fantasies could’ve met the reality of kissing erling. his hands roamed through your body, staying on your ass, massaging it so good that you moaned against his mouth.

“there’s no way i’m letting you fuck me here, erling.” you whispered once the kiss finished, your voice tone not even close to being convincing. you didn’t feel very convinced about not wanting him to fuck you either .

“why not? no one’s going to notice.” your own hands were exploring his shoulders and biceps, making your mind wander to the previous times you had seen him shirtless. “you saw how empty this place is. i promise we’ll be out of here before anyone comes… how does that sound?”

“i don’t know…” while you acted like you were thinking about it, his lips caressed your neck, leaving kisses that made you bite your lip as hard as you could endure to not spur out the word “yes” in such a desperate tone.

“are you sure you don’t want to?” you could feel his hands on your legs, one of them getting dangerously close to your core. “i’ll make you feel so good…” the whisper sent shivers through your back, making your thoughts intertwine with each other until you were kissing again, unable to say no.

because, god, you wanted him to fuck you; it didn’t matter if the fucking king walked in.

his touches were soft as he raised your dress up your ass, leaving you exposed and blushing as he finally took it off your body. his eyes didn’t waste time, taking in the delicate white set you had on, his chest going up and down until he finally met your eyes.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” you didn’t know if you were this nervous from the way he was looking at you, or from the compliment that made you aware of your half-naked body. not like it mattered.

your eyes followed him, having to restrain yourself from saying something stupid once he got rid of his shirt, leaving all that incredible body on display. your eyes were inviting him to just do something, so when he finally got near, you couldn’t help but touch every inch of skin available. he was so… god.

his touched the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you until you were seated on a little tile bench that you didn’t know was there to begin with. your eyes never left his as you felt him caressing your thighs, his fingers massaging your skin so subtly that you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as they traveled upward. just as his fingers lingered just above your core, you let out a gasp.

“can i?” hearing him ask sounded a bit ridiculous due to the situation, but you appreciated how he still cared to ask for consent even though you were two seconds from begging.

“yes…” your voice came out weird to your ears, a slight blush covering your cheeks as he took your underwear off, the feeling of the fabric against your legs made what was about to happen ten times more real. you knew you were already wet as his touch became lighter on your inner thighs, your breath coming to a halt as his fingers touched your folds, your eyes shutting as soon as his thumb brushed your clit.

“look at me…” he said suddenly, his fingers grabbing your chin to tilt your head. when you didn’t open them right away, you felt his thumb caressing the side of your jaw, squeezing just enough to make you pay attention. “look at me.”

his harsh tone made you look up at his face, which showed an expression that you just couldn’t decipher. it made him ten times more attractive; you just couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes or the way his jaw was clenching. your mouth fell open when you felt his finger slowly circling your entrance before sliding in painfully slow, letting you feel— and adjust— to his large digit. you wanted to hide, ashamed of the moan that left your lips once he added a second one, curling them while they went in and out, making your legs shaky by the feeling of it, making you wonder how good his dick would feel inside of you.

“feels good, baby?” he asks, a playful undertone to his question that made you smile through the pleasure he was giving you. the feeling of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers curling deep down your core made you whimper, a quick nod being the only answer he got. “told you i was going to make it worth it.”

“you’re such a cocky—” a moan interrupted your words once he added a third finger, having you gasping for air for a moment. “bastard.” you finished, closing your eyes a second time while your body adjusted to the size of his slender fingers.

it felt too good, and by the slow-burning feeling that was building up, you knew you were very close to cumming. you stared at him for a long moment before grabbing his neck, pulling him for a kiss that had both of your breathing shaky, your kisses messy as you tightened around him.

“i’m so close, oh my—” you couldn’t even finish the phrase as you felt your orgasm hit you with force, having to grab onto him as you saw stars behind your eyelids, feeling a sudden fear of being too loud for someone to hear. you felt erling’s lips traveling from your neck to your shoulder, his fingers still moving for a few seconds before he retrieved them, leaving you feeling empty and needy for more. “fuck me…” you whispered against his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until your lips were next to his ear. “now.”

your hands looked blindly for the waistband of his shorts, palming through the fabric until you felt his clothed dick hard against your palm. erling let out a shaky breath while you played with the waistband, slowly lowering it until his shaft hit the bare skin of his stomach. it was such an erotic view that you felt your mouth water a bit. then, as your hand encircled his dick, reality hit you: you didn’t have a condom with you, and you doubted that erling did either. and why was the idea of him fucking you bare so hot?

luckily you were on the pill.

“fuck…” he whispered when you started to jerk him off, enjoying how his dick seemed to get bigger— which was impressive due to him being already big. “you’re such a tease.” he laughed, grabbing your shoulders so you couldn’t have a choice but to back off, looking at him with a playful smile.

he manhandled you so well that it surprised you how much it turned you on. your back was totally glued to the wall as he grabbed your thighs, making your legs open at each side of his hips. it felt like an out of body experience, your eyes fixated on how he was adjusting himself, the tip of his cock glistening with your juices when he teased your entrance, making both of you moan lowly. as he entered you, you grabbed his arms, your nails digging into the skin, your head tilting back.

“oh go—”

“mate? are you here?” just when you were about to let out a moan— a very loud moan— you heard a voice a bit far away from where you were, but undoubtedly near enough to hear anything if you spoke up. “erling?” then you recognized the brum accent, your eyes going wide as you stared at erling.

jack was here.

“yeah?!” against whatever you believed erling would do, he fucking answered. and when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he started to bump into you as slowly as he could, making your mouth wide open, a silent moan being your only response. “what’s up?”

your shook your head, wanting him to just shut up and get jack away from the booth; but something in his eyes told you that he was about to do the exact opposite. the kinky shit.

“nothing, i just heard you had a friend over for a visit.” you couldn’t concentrate on jack’s presence, even though it was mortifying, while erling’s pace got a bit higher, his hand covering your mouth when it opened again. “heard she’s really nice.”

“oh yeah, she’s extremely nice.” erling’s smile grew bigger, making you give him a dirty look.

all of the sudden, you felt his thumb circling your clit, making you whimper despite his hand covering most of your moans, leaving the room in a weird silence while you were very sure jack was standing right behind the door. your nails kept leaving traces on erling’s skin, your mind wanting to find anything to distract you from the pleasure you were feeling. it was twisted, since there was a person about to catch you fucking with erling, but that only made the situation hotter.

“man, you’re always taking the longest time in the shower. when you get out, introduce me to that friend of yours, yeah?” you heard jack’s sigh, making you wonder if he even noticed anything weird going on. “well, see ya when you finish, princess. make sure to put on conditioner.”

“fuck you.” erling said, his eyes never leaving yours as his thrusts became faster, his fingers still stimulating you as you tightened around him.

finally, you heard the main door shut. you waited a few seconds to slap his arm, his hand still lingering on your mouth while his pace increased, leaving you breathless. he never stopped, and when he finally removed his hand and you had the opportunity to say something, you didn’t. the thing was… you couldn’t say anything because you were too stimulated to make up something coherent. all you could do was stare at him, biting your lip as hard as you could to stop the moans just in case someone else walked in, feeling wetter by the second. you couldn’t believe he was going to make you cum a second time.

“i think i was wrong about no one walking on us.” his smile let you know he wasn’t even sorry about it.

“you think?” you say with a strangled voice, moaning quietly when you felt him hitting the right spot inside of you. “asshole.”

“you sure love this asshole’s dick, don’t you?” he went back to leave kisses on your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin so gently that you didn’t notice at first. “you feel so fucking amazing.” then he moaned right above your ear, and you absolutely lost it. you moaned too, holding on for dear life to him as your second orgasm hit you so suddenly you didn’t even become aware of it until you felt erling tensing under your touch. “fuck…”

and then you felt how he came right after you, tightening his grip around you as he gave a final thrust, going deep inside you that you felt his cum filling you up. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing loud and erratic while you recovered from what just happened. you were afraid of looking up from his chest, knowing that now, when the euphoria has worn off, you have to face the fact that you just fucked erling and got almost caught. just as it all started, no words were exchanged when he finally pulled out, a quick glance being all that was needed for him to grin and for you to giggle.

“do you have something to clean your cum off me?” he laughed at that, going to the wall next to you, pulling out wet tissues and a tiny towel from a cabinet you hadn’t noticed. this place was full of surprises. you stretched out your hand, wanting to take them from him.

“let me do it.” his answer shocked you a bit, so you just nodded. his touch felt way different— more intimate—as he cleaned you, making sure you were all set before helping you get off the bench, his hands never leaving you until you put the dress on, looking around with an arched eyebrow. “what?” he asked when you kept looking.

“where’s my underwear?”

“who knows…” his mischievous tone made you look at him just in time to catch him stuffing the white lace in the pocket of his shorts.

“erling! give them to me!” you reached for his arm, only to get manhandled again, this time in a playful way that had you smiling. “that’s my underwear!”

“finders keepers, darling.” he whispered in your ear before kissing you by surprise, taking your mind away from it all.

maybe you made the right choice by following him into the showers.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST —

mickyschumacher

I have never requested before so here goes, If you are taking requests could you write one after tonight’s pedri’s mvp match and scoring the goal some celebration smut?

like a winner

pairing: pedro 'pedri' gonzález x fem!reader

summary: to be honest, wearing some lingerie and pedri being barça's first goal was just a coincidence. or in which it's a coincidence that can't go left unrewarded.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, established relationship, bad recall of the game, unprotected sex (wrap it), blow job, p in v, fingering, mutual orgasms, teasing, bad spanish and bad humour, pwp in a way?// sorta proof-read ._.

word count: 4k+

a/n: so firstly.... i am so sorry for being so late to this request! i believe this was barça vs levante given the timing of the request. but like... i loved this?? so i hope you to do!!

🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist

You were seated in Valéncia, dark evening sky greeting you as you looked over the field, bright white lights making its green flush pop back at you. Over twenty thousand fans thrummed and roared in the stadium. It was Barça versus Levante, the second game of the new season. You weren’t really nervous. Only because Pedri wasn’t. He never was.

Even when he stood in line with his other teammates, from afar you could see the firmness radiating off him. He was calm. Focused. His brother, Fer, teased him next to you, muttering something about how the boy didn’t know how to smile.

•18+ Adults Only

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acotar-girly

theodore nott x reader who was promised to him at birth with pure blood politics blah blah blah

she's his future wife, everyone knows this. it's like... a blood pact, etc.

except they grow up like the bestest of friends

except they're already each other's person and they think it's just being best friends

except when they're old enough to understand romance, they're horrified at the thought of resigning to the cliche

jokes like:

"Theo?"

"Mhm."

"I'm going to hogsmeade with hermione and the others this weekend"

"No.'

"...Excuse me?"

"That group contains five Gryffindors, Weasley twins included. Statistically, you will either be arrested or blown up before you even got to Hogsmeade"

"I wasn't asking for your permission"

A lazy smirk. "Pity. Denied anyway."

"Oh my God, Theo, you don’t own me."

He finally looked up then, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

"Technically,” he said smoothly, “according to several ancient contracts, ministry-recognized family accords, and at least one magically binding inheritance law- I do, so-"

Smack.

You hit his arm hard enough to make him wince.

"OW-"

"Shut UP."

Theo started laughing immediately, actually laughing, head dropping back against the sofa while you tried not to grin.

"You truly are insufferable."

"And yet," he said, catching your wrist before you could hit him again, still smiling, "you remain legally obligated to tolerate me."

UGHHH i have an exam tomorrow but who gives a fuckkk

residentheartache

Them

Max verstappen x reader x Charles Leclerc

Summary you max and charles try something out

Rain dripped from your hair in slow, cold streams, but neither of them seemed to notice. Max’s hands were braced against your waist, grounding and possessive all at once, while Charles stood impossibly close behind you close enough that every breath ghosted across your skin like a warning.

It had started as teasing. A stupid challenge after too much wine and too many lingering looks between the three of you all weekend.

“Just one kiss,” Charles had laughed earlier, eyes bright with mischief.

But now? Now Max was kissing you like he was trying to prove something. And Charles looked seconds away from losing his mind.

Your fingers curled into Max’s damp jacket as his mouth moved against yours, slow and consuming, and the second you gasped, Charles stepped closer. Too close. You felt his lips brush the corner of your jaw first tentative for all of half a second before he tilted your face toward him.

The contrast nearly ruined you. Max was intensity. Heavy hands. Sharp breaths. A kiss that stole the air from your lungs. Charles was devastatingly soft. Slow enough to make you ache for more.

You barely had time to recover before Max murmured against your mouth, voice rough and low.

“See?” he said, eyes flicking toward Charles. “She likes it.”

Charles gave him a look that should’ve annoyed you competitive and smug and entirely too pretty before his attention dropped back to you.

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

And that was the dangerous part.

Not the rain.

Not the stolen kisses.

Not the way both of them looked at you like they’d already crossed a line they couldn’t come back from.

It was the fact that neither of them seemed willing to let go.

xxjewellynwatts

𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

OP81 x f!reader

Part 3 (you’re here): Cupid | Part 1 | Part 2

summary: lando has a plan to make things work between reader and Oscar. this just might be it.

contains: a hint of jealousy, awkwardness, angst, fluff, lando playing cupid. fan culture. hearing disabilitiy. mention of an ex. fictional races.

a/n: might be weird if read as standalone. check out the other parts. reblogs are appreciated ♡

You hadn’t seen the McLaren drivers in a few days since the gala event in Monaco. And you were very grateful for the quietness of your hotel room. Sure, you went out to walk around Monaco every day, but always wearing noise cancelling headphones or your earplugs. It felt good to be on your own.

tsunodaradio

fast learner ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

oscar teaches you everything you need to know before your date with lando.

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x best friend!reader. ꔮ word count: 8.5k. ꔮ includes: smut, romance. profanity. pwp, soft dom!oscar-ish, oral [f & m], fingering, dry humping. inexperienced!reader, oscar talks you through it, he is a teensy 🤏 bit manipulative, just pure smut :(, lando haunts the narrative. title only kind of from niki’s backburner (which could mean nothing,,). ꔮ commentary box: hi, oh my gosh, i don’t think i’ve ever written pwp this long in my life. i’m kind of mortified (especially with the fact this has some >2k more words i shaved off). anyway, this was commissioned, tysm!!! 📑 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 + read part two here!!!

Oscar Piastri is a patient man.

He has to be. With the way you barrel into his life and make yourself at home—your duffle bag always one laundry cycle away from living in his flat full-time, your half-drunk coffees trailing behind you like breadcrumbs, your laugh breaking over his ribs every time you tease him about being the most boring twenty-something alive—patience is the only option.

He thinks of himself as quiet. You call him steady. Reliable. “You’re my favorite person to do nothing with,” you said once, tucked under the same throw blanket, both of you half-asleep while a movie played on loop. The confession buzzed in his ears for days.

So, yes. Oscar Piastri is a patient man. But we never said he was a good one.

wholoveseggs

Robb needs to continue to plan the war but reader is desperate for him. They come to a conclusion, she’ll sit in his cock while he looks over everything. Basically just cock warming with Robb.

Seat of Power

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

{Robb Stark x f!Reader} The war room is littered with maps and scrolls, and your husband hasn't come to bed in nearly a month. You've tried patience. You've tried understanding. Tonight, you try something else.

♡♡ Happy Game of Thrones day! ♡♡

1.4k words - Warnings: smut, riding, cockwarming, war planning & aftercare ...

•18+ Adults Only

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639-hear-me-out-bby

“so,” best friend!chandler says, leaning back on the couch, his hands nervously fiddling with his coffee mug. “big day coming up.”

you glance at him, confused. “what big day?”

“oh, you know,” he says casually, though his voice cracks slightly. “the day we hit the big thirty. and the day our ‘just friends’ pact expires.”

you freeze mid-sip, the weight of his words settling over you. “oh. that.”

“yeah, that.” he laughs nervously, his usual sarcastic bravado faltering. “hard to believe we made that deal, huh? we were so young and... optimistic.”

you smile softly, trying to mask the sudden flutter in your chest. “well, it seemed like a safe bet back then. i mean, who actually ends up following through with something like that?”

chandler’s lips twitch into a wry smile. “yeah. totally ridiculous. two people who’ve been best friends forever suddenly deciding to... you know, date. absurd.”

your laugh is quieter this time, the air between you both growing heavier. “completely absurd.”

silence stretches, punctuated only by the clink of dishes being stacked in the background. neither of you dares to meet the other’s gaze, as if the moment might shatter if you do.

finally, chandler clears his throat. “so, uh... what are we doing, then?"

“what do you mean?” you ask, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

he sets his mug down, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “i mean, are we... still pretending this is just some silly joke we made years ago? or are we...” he pauses, his voice softening, “...are we actually going to do this?”

your heart races, and you force a shaky laugh. “chandler, it was just a pact. it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“but what if it does?” he blurts out, his words tumbling over each other. “what if it’s not just some pact? what if it’s been... i don’t know, this the whole time? what if we don’t wait? like, what if we stop pretending this doesn’t already feel like something?”

his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. you look at him, really look at him, and suddenly, it’s as if every sarcastic quip, every lingering glance, every stolen moment between you both clicks into place.

“chandler...” you start, your voice trembling.

“look,” he interrupts, his voice shaking but steady with determination. “i know this is terrifying. trust me, i’m terrified. but i can’t keep pretending that i don’t... that you’re not... everything to me.”

you feel your eyes well up, a mix of fear and hope coursing through you. “you’re my best friend,” you whisper.

“and you’re mine,” he says softly, leaning closer. “but doesn’t it kind of feel like we’ve been more than that for a while now?”

you stare at him, the vulnerability in his eyes pulling you in. “yeah,” you admit quietly. “it does.”

his breath hitches, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “so, maybe we take a chance? i mean, worst case scenario... we ruin everything and never speak again.”

you laugh, the sound breaking the tension as you swat his arm. “great pep talk, bing.”

“hey, if sarcasm worked for me this far, why stop now?” he grins, though it’s softer this time, his usual defenses melting away.

before you can overthink it, you lean forward and press your lips to his. he freezes for a split second, then kisses you back, his hands finding your waist as if they’ve always belonged there.

when you finally pull away, breathless, you rest your forehead against his. “so, about that pact..."

“yeah?” he asks, his voice still laced with awe.

“i think we just made good on it.”

his laugh is soft, filled with relief and something deeper. “best deal i’ve ever made.”

dixontardis

🎁𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 & 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕: 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐏🎁

pairing: chuck bass x fem reader

MDNI 18+

summary: at a christmas party, you straddle chuck bass's lap in a barely there red velvet dress, and he whispers exactly what he wants for the holidays...you, wearing nothing but thigh-highs. what starts as teasing turns into a heated, possessive encounter behind closed doors, with chuck making sure he unwraps his favourite gift early.

warnings: smut, thigh highs kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, public teasing, lap sitting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, cream pie, dom!chuck,

The Bass Industries Christmas party was a scene straight out of a billionaire’s wet dream. Twinkling lights dripping from gold dipped chandeliers, champagne towers glistening like liquid snow, and every guest dressed like they belonged on the cover of a Vogue holiday issue. You were no exception.

Except, your dress wasn’t made to be seen. Not for long, anyway.

It was red. Velvet. Strapless. Short enough that Chuck’s hand had already “accidentally” brushed the curve of your ass four times in the past hour, and he hadn’t even apologized once. He just smirked each time, that lazy, sinful grin of his that made your knees weak and your panties damp.

You had planned to behave. At least until dessert.

But then Chuck leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as his cologne wrapped around you like smoke, “Santa’s been very bad this year” he whispered, voice dark and smooth like aged whiskey, “Think you should punish him?”

You turned, raising an eyebrow, “I didn’t know Santa liked to be punished”

He gave a low, wicked chuckle, “Oh, I prefer to do the punishing, sweetheart. But I’d make an exception for you”

And just like that, your plan for good behaviour vanished like the foam on your champagne.

You waited until the music swelled and the crowd shifted, then made your move. Chuck was lounging in a velvet chair near the roaring fireplace, sipping his scotch like he owned the place, because, well, he did. Your heels clicked against the hardwood, your hips swaying just a little more than necessary.

His eyes followed you like a man starved.

“Someone’s feeling bold” he murmured, watching as you slid into his lap like it was your throne.

“I’m just here to tell Santa what I want for Christmas” you purred.

Chuck's hand settled on your thigh, bare and silky except for the red thigh highs peeking out beneath your dress. His thumb dragged slow, lazy circles over your skin as his other hand trailed up your back, fingers brushing the zipper.

“Careful, darling. I’m one unzip away from ruining this party for everyone” His voice dropped low enough that only you could hear, “And if you keep squirming like that, I’m going to forget we’re in public”

You shifted your weight on his lap deliberately, and there it was, hard, thick, and already straining beneath his tailored pants.

“Oops” you said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

Chuck's jaw flexed. He leaned up, lips ghosting over yours, but not kissing you, not yet, “Tell me what you’re wearing under that dress”

You smiled sweetly, “Wouldn’t you like to know”

His grip on your thigh tightened, just enough to make you whimper, “I do know. Because I told you what I wanted, didn’t I? You. Thigh highs. And nothing else”

You flushed. Your secret? You were not wearing panties. And he’d just called your bluff.

He smirked like the devil and slid his hand higher under your dress, fingers brushing right between your legs.

Soaked.

“Fucking hell” he muttered, eyes darkening, “You’re dripping for me, baby. In the middle of a goddamn party”

You grabbed his tie, tugging him closer until your lips nearly touched, “Then do something about it”

He did.

Not there, of course. Chuck Bass may be filthy, but he knows how to play the game. He stood with you still in his arms, murmuring a quick excuse to a confused Nate nearby, something about needing air, and whisked you down the hall like a man on a mission.

The bedroom door barely shut before he was on you.

He pushed you up against the door, yanking your dress up to your waist and groaning when he saw the crimson thigh highs paired with absolutely nothing else.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me” he rasped.

His mouth was on your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of possessive bruises as his fingers slid between your thighs. He teased you, slow and infuriating, until your hips rolled against his palm in frustration.

“Chuck-”

“Shhh, let Santa taste his present”

He sank to his knees in front of you, eyes locked on yours as he dragged your thigh over his shoulder. You barely had time to breathe before his tongue was on you, slow, devastating strokes that had you moaning his name in seconds.

“Fuck, yes, right there” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging hard when he sucked your clit into his mouth.

He didn’t stop until you were trembling, legs weak, and the words “I’m cumming, oh God, I’m cumming” spilled from your lips like a prayer.

He stood, licking his lips, looking entirely too smug.

“I haven’t even unwrapped my gift yet” he growled.

You helped him, yanking his pants open, freeing his cock, hard and leaking and ready. He spun you around, bent you over the side of the guest bed, and lined himself up without warning.

“Still want to sit on my lap, sweetheart?” he hissed in your ear.

“Want you to ruin me” you shot back, grinning like the brat you were.

So he did.

He thrust into you hard, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tight you knew you’d wear bruises like lingerie. Every snap of his hips was rough, delicious, possessive. He groaned your name like it was the only thing he believed in.

“You’re mine” he grunted “Say it”

You gasped, bracing yourself as he hit your g-spot over and over again, “I’m yours...fuck, Chuck, I’m yours!”

“Good girl”

You came around him with a cry, and he followed moments later, spilling inside you with a loud, ragged groan.

By the time you both collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathless, the party was still roaring down the hall.

Chuck leaned over, brushing a kiss against your temple, “Best Christmas gift I’ve ever had”

You smirked, dragging your finger down his chest, “Good. Because next year, I’m asking Santa for a diamond”

He laughed, and it was warm and real, and it made your heart skip like sleigh bells.

“Done” he said, “But only if you sit on my lap again”

“Deal”

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