Characters/Pairings: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Rating: Mature
Summary: When Luka rolls into town later than expected, missing a party Marinette wasnât supposed to know he was trying to meet her at, he receives a handful of texts fromâŚa pretty talkative Marinette. A pretty drunk Marinette.
âŚa pretty drunk Marinette who just wants to give him kisses, apparently. AndâŚother things.
Authorâs Notes/Warnings: @chrwrites found this prompt of a text message going âI just want to give him things, like blowjobs and self esteemâ, so of course my brain immediately went âDrunkinette texting Luka thinking itâs Roseâ, and now here we are. I was blanking on a title, and after some spitballing with the gang I feel you all should know that title needs to be read like Mamma Mia: âKisses andâŚ
âKisses and. . .â
Luka was exhausted.
His limbs felt like lead as he trudged up the four flights of stairs to his flat â because of course the lift was on the fritz and no one had bothered to tell him (Juleka and Rose lived on the floor below him, they could have warned him). His duffle bag was heavy against his hip, and the guitar on his back somehow felt even heavier. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and crash.
He was supposed to be home a good six, seven hours ago. He was supposed to get home with more than enough time to meet Juleka and Rose at the charity something or other Rose was coordinating earlier that night. He couldnât quite remember what the event was, but he did remember that it was a dressy event and Marinette was supposed to be there.
âŚhe had really been looking forward to that. Seeing Marinette in whatever masterpiece she had concocted for the party. Just seeing Marinette, really.
With how their schedules had been latelyâŚit had been too long since he had last seen Marinette. He couldnât remember the last time theyâd been in the same city. (The two minutes heâd grabbed a quick hug when theyâd bumped into each other at OâHare last fall did not count.)
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Hi my name is K-T and if you talk dirty to me without knowing me I will probably laugh and keep stringing you along for the fun of it. Unless I'm drunk. If I'm drunk then I'm probably horny.
for rainbow-randomness & howlnatural (what a loser)
based on this & this. enjoy kiddies:
Stiles was drunk.
So, so, so drunk.
There were bright lights, and the pounding music kind of made him want to throw up. Or shake his booty. His fantastic booty. Maybe do both. Simultaneously. That meant at the same time. But shaking his booty and throwing up at the same time sounded gross. And really complicated. Way too complicated for Stiles right now. Fun fact, words were Stilesâ bitch, actually. Simultaneously was a good word. And alcohol was his friend. Until the next morning anyway. Then, alcohol betrayed him like he was Ceasar. Et tu, Brute? Being an emperor sounded nice though. Was Ceasar emperor? Who knows really.
But then again, who cared about Ceasar? Or the next morning, really? The night was still young!
âI needa, sex,â Stiles nodded at nothing, a dopey smile spreading across his face. Sex was fun. âI should get LAAAAAIIIIIID,â he yelled to the room at large, before stumbling over to the makeshift bar, waving his empty Solo cup (because stereotypes are always fun) in the direction of one of the only two sober people in the room. âI need a drink. Or two. Or twenty,â he beamed at the general vicinity of the kegs. âCan I get twenty drinks?â
âI think you need to be cut off,â the girl, Becky or Becca or something, replied seriously, plucking the glass from his hand and ignoring Stilesâ pout.
How fucking dare she. That pout has broken greater men. Not women, necessarily, which probably explains it, but thatâs no big deal, because Stiles swings for both teams and it feels great.
Derek was rude. And hot. But mostly rude.
And funny and nice sometimes and sweet and goofy and had bunny teeth and posturing and dumb leather jackets that smelled like the woods and the earth and he liked to save Stilesâ life sometimes.
Stiles could appreciate that in a person. He liked Derek. That wasnât a surprise, Stiles kind of realized that after some carefully calculated drinks and Lydiaâs invasive and weirdly arousing questions.
Fucking Lydia, man, why did Stiles ever think that was a good idea?
But back to Derek. Who had a nice ass.
No, who was an ass. Goddammit, brain.
An ass with a nice ass.
Stiles was thinking of donkeys now. Asses. Assess? Alcohol was impairing his ability to words. It was like the betrayal all over again. But this time, his vocabulary was in on the ruse.
Et tu, lexicons?
Hey! Lexicons were a good word.
âI forgive you, language,â Stiles smiled softly at his shoes for a long moment before abruptly straightening up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. There were revelations that needed to be⌠uh, revealed? That made no sense. Stiles was man enough to admit when heâd been bested.
Frowning in concentration, Stiles could feel his tongue poking out of his mouth as he tapped at his touch screen, trying to get a coherent sentence out.
He collapsed onto a bar stool and reread what he had just spent about five minutes typing out.
Stiles: duDe i wanna mKE hiM eggs and stuff. berakfst foods,, adsb baths wth af luffy sponge on his abs and stfuf adn i wanta watch sharknado with his popcorn and fcuk his brains out or somrohting oMgH
Squinting at his phone for a second, he shrugged. Scott would get the gist. Probably.
Jabbing his finger onto the screen, he looked blankly out into the sweaty throng of bodies gyrating to the music and decided that he needed to pee. Peeing is good for you, and also, he would really rather not piss himself. Been there, done that, and will never repeat. Ever. Like, ever.
On the way to the bathroom, Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet when he felt his phone vibrate against his pocket, which was weird, because Scott never replied that quickly.
He pushed the door to the bathroom open and leant back on the sink to read the reply he got, which only said, âwho?â
Which, rude. Scottâs known about Stilesâ crush on Derek for a ridiculously long time now.
Stiles: dEREK dUH
Stiles rolled his eyes. Honestly, he sometimes didnât have a clue how Scott was alive.
âGoofball,â he sighed fondly at an imaginary Scott before turning around and blinking at himself in the dimly-lit mirror. He looked like a hot fucking mess. He ambled over to the urinal and peed, before stepping out of the bathroom and blinding searching for the exit.
He had just stepped out into the cool night air when his phone rang.
âMm?â he hummed noncommittally once he had picked it up.
Someone that sounded suspiciously like Derek cleared their throat. âI wouldnât mind if you did that. All of it.â
Of course, Stilesâ first reaction was âwhatâ.
âWhat?â he said dumbly. âDerek?â
There was no answer and Stiles blinked a few times, abruptly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes wide. He pulled the phone from his ear to stare at it in disbelief.
Et tu, technology?
âI, uh⌠have I made a really terrible mistake?â
Derek huffed, though there was really no hiding his amusement. Even drunk Stiles could hear it, and drunk Stiles wasnât very smart.
Wait, thatâs a lie. Drunk Stiles is a genius.
Which is why he sent a text about his love for Derek, to Derek.
Whose fucking side are you on, anyway?!
âI really sent that to you instead of Scott?â Stiles (didnât) whimper.
Derek sighed. âYeah, you did.â
Okay, there was no denying the whimper this time.
There was another few moments of silence where they were both just breathing down the phone and then Stiles cleared his throat a little awkwardly.
âI⌠the point, uhâŚâ he trailed off and blew out a huge breath, rubbing at his eyes and slumping against the brick wall of the frat house the party had been in. âMy point still stands. I still wanna do⌠all those things, if you wanted me to.â
There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Stiles heard Derek laugh on the other side of the line.
âYeah,â Derek said quietly. âIâd like that. We should⌠when you come home,â Derek said to Stiles, who was starting to grin manically. âI miss you.â Despite himself, Stiles could feel his body relax and his stomach flip-flopping like an overenthusiastic twelve year-old gymnast.
Although that could be the alcoholâs fault. Man, was he hungry.
FOR DEREKâS DICK.
âIâm hungry,â he told Derek, who made a questioning noise. âFor your dick,â he giggled when Derek choked. âBut also for real food,â he said seriously. âBut I could get off now?â he asked hopefully.
âStiles,â Derek said warningly and Stiles moaned theatrically, way more amused than he should be, considering he always teased Derek. But maybe it was even more hilarious now that he was making fun of his⌠Derek. His Derek. Heh.
âHello, Derek?â Stiles asked out, his voice cautious, before making an offended noise. âIâll kill you for hanging up on me!â he yelled out before huffing and pocketing his phone, before he grinned and pulled it out again.
Stiles: âm gonan sext u
Derek: you canât spell things for shit
Stiles: eman
Stiles: nema mEaan
Stiles: MEAN fCKSSAKE
Stiles: letteers are hard. liKE mY DICK
Stiles: spelt rihgt
Derek: no
Stiles: spoilsesport
Derek: thatâs not a word.
Stiles: u knwo waht i eman fuckn0 mean
Derek: still no
Derek: if you go to sleep now we can do whatever you want tomorrow
Stiles: done m asleep now ngiht drk
Derek: good night stiles.
Stiles beamed into the night air and swung his head around to get his bearings.
He should really get home as soon as naturally (funny, because everyone he knew was supernatural. hah, he was hilarious) possible. There was sleeping to do. And then needling. Like, not needling with thread. More like needling people. Or, in Stilesâ case, one person. Needling Derek. It was his favorite pastime.
Needling the Alpha.
That should really be the title of Stilesâ autobiography.
Him: Are you playing with your ass? I would want to get some beads in there.
Me: Mmm, that would be delightful. Just playing with my clit with my vibrator.
Him: Are you really wet? My dick is hard thinking about your wet pussy wrapped around it. I want to stick my dick in you and have you suck your pussy juices off my dick.
Me: Dripping, after I lick all it from your cock I'm sticking my fingers in my mouth rolling and sliding my tongue all over my cum to taste.
Him: I would really love to hear you cum.
Me: I just did :)
Him: Do you want more?
Me: I do, but of the real thing.
Him: Right now?
Me: Yes
Him: Do you want my dick in you?
Me: Thrusting deep in me, need to feel it hard.
Him: I'm definitely hard right now, my cum is ready to explode for you. I want that firm ass gripping my dick. I want to feel you all around me. I need it, I need a wild fuck.
Me: I need that raw passion where you've lost yourself in the moment of desire. Pulling, tugging, squeezing. I need that too.
Him: I need to feel your raw sexual power. I need to know you want nothing more from me in that moment except my body. I want to fuck you until you are raw.
Me: I want it to be so rough that I've unleashed a tiger. Nothing like that primitive fuck.
Him: I want it so bad. I need to be fucked like the animal I am.
Me: I need an adventurous romp that ends with the inability to move the next day. I need someone to spank me around, let me dominate them. I need to lick pussy too. I miss threesomes.
Him: You want me to come and destroy your pussy?
Me: In the worst way possible. I'm clawing and yearning. Ripe, supple, and ready.
Him: God damn my dick is so hard and dripping with cum. I want to taste how sweet that pussy is. I'm afraid I might blow within two minutes of fucking you. Will you cum quick for me?
Me: Oh my, I am worried about the same thing. I will cum fast for you.Â
Him: I am so ready for you.
Me: Heaven. I want to rap my lips around you. I'm squealing, lifting my hips in a gimme gimme fashion.
