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seonghwaddict · 1 year ago

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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi reactions #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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neellscapsule · 3 days ago

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a place where you aren't you

summary | when a fight breaks because of a broken rule, damian says something that he will regret later . . . or not that later, actually.

pairing | bruce wayne x kent!reader. platonic batboys & cass x batmom!reader

warnings / tags | ANGSTY, this is hurt/little comfort, at least in this part. this involves travelling to another universe, kinda based on the wizards of waverly place movie. au!reader is not the nicest but

word count | 4k

authors note | hi there!! english is not my first languaje so there might be some mistakes, or not, it can depend :)

this is NOT part of the kent!batmom!reader series. this is an alternative universe that still has kent!batmom!reader.

THE SHOUTS STARTS BEFORE THE REST OF THE LEAGUE EVEN REALIZES WHAT'S HAPPENING.

You barely hear Bruce’s voice trying to get your attention. You're already too focused, heart in your throat, stepping down from the League's console platform to where Damian is standing near the Watchtower's central table — fists clenched, scowl etched so deep into his face it might never leave.

He doesn’t care that you're in the middle of a Justice League debriefing. Doesn’t care that Diana’s eyebrows rise or that Clark shifts with a subtle, disapproving frown. Doesn’t even care that the entire League is there, along with every single one of his older siblings behind him. Dick’s mouth is open mid-protest, Jason is already tense, Cass half-turned to intercept, and Tim’s arms are crossed so tight they look like armor.

You stand there with your arms folded across your chest, your voice deadly calm even as the room tenses around you. “I told you not to patrol, Damian. You had school. A test. And instead of being in bed by ten, you were jumping rooftops with Jason like the rules don’t apply to you.”

Damian’s lips curl back with a snarl. “Because they shouldn’t apply to me.”

Your voice stays level, but the edge in it cuts sharper than any blade he’s trained with. “You’re eleven, Damian. The rules exist to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need safety! I need to do my job!”

“You need to pass your classes,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing.

“I wasn’t doing anything I haven’t done before,” he snapped. “Crime doesn’t take a day off just because I have some asinine history test.”

“That asinine history test is what keeps you in school. And school is what keeps you safe, keeps you building a future that’s bigger than rooftops and batarangs,” you shot back, your heart twisting with each syllable. “You need to grow up with a life beyond the cowl. You’re grounded. No patrol until further notice.”

“No!” he barks, and his voice cracks under the weight of his fury. “You can’t do that! You’re not even my real mother!”

Silence.

It sucks the air out of the Watchtower in an instant. Everyone freezes.

You blink once. Then again. Damian’s chest is heaving, his fists still balled at his sides. You don’t even realize you're shaking until Bruce’s hand tries to find your arm, grounding you, anchoring you — but you're too stiff to feel it. Too stunned to move. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He doesn’t stop there. Damian’s face was red, blotchy. Not from guilt—yet. From anger. Frustration. That cold pride that always came before regret.

“I wish my father never even met you. I wish none of this ever happened. I wish you weren't in the family!”

And that’s when it happens.

You don’t see the stone until it’s too late — the golden shimmer of an ancient relic set on the table by Diana after a mission in Themyscira. The Wish Stone. It glows suddenly, pulsing between you and Damian, fed by fury and heartbreak and the purity of a child’s wish spoken from the gut.

“No—!” Diana lunges toward it.

“Everyone back!” Bruce barks.

But it’s already flashing — golden light bursting from its core, humming with raw, ancient energy. The blast swallows the room, and the last thing you see is the way all five of them — Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass — are pulled toward the light, their bodies lifted from the ground like marionettes.

“Kids!” you scream, reaching for them, too late.

Then everything goes dark.

It felt like falling through a web, then crashing out of it mid-air.

The five of them—Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass—landed roughly on a rooftop, not Gotham, not their Gotham. The city was brighter. Cleaner. Quieter. The moon didn’t look like it was straining to light an alley. The skyline was littered with lights and towers they didn’t recognize. The sounds were wrong. The air smelled too... sweet.

Jason groaned, rolling onto his back.

“Okay, what the actual hell was that?”

Dick coughs and sputters as he hits the ground, rolling onto his side, arm buckling under him. “Everyone in one piece?”

Tim winces, curled on his stomach. “Define piece.”

Cass lands in a crouch, her feet silent even in this chaos. The middle one stumbles to his feet beside her. Damian, for all his temper, is suddenly very, very quiet.

“…Where the hell are we?” Jason mutters, dragging himself upright and squinting at the sky — too darkly cleaned, too low, as if dusk had frozen in place above them.

“Not the Watchtower,” Tim says grimly. “It was the Wish Stone. I think Damian just screwed the timeline.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Damian muttered.

“You don’t deserve your name right now,” Dick snaps. He looks furious. Dusty, scraped, bleeding just a bit from his elbow. “Do you even realize what you just did? What you said to her?”

Damian’s lip curled. “She’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Dick warned.

Cass’s eyes flick back and forth between them, calculating the tension, bracing her stance. Jason rises behind them, hand on his holster but not drawing.

Damian squares his jaw.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You wished her away!” Dick shouts.

And just like that, it explodes again.

Tim is the one who tries to stop it, but he’s not quick enough.

Jason blocks Dick’s second hit before it lands, and then it’s a mess of grunts and swears and pushed shoulders. Damian twists free, launching at Jason instead, because he knows he can’t hit Dick and win. Cass barely manages to knock Damian’s feet out before he takes someone’s jaw off.

“Stop it!” Tim snaps, grabbing Damian by the back of his collar and yanking him away. “We’re not solving anything like this!”

Jason spits blood on the rooftop.

“Tell that to mini-Demon. He’s the one who just exiled us to Happy Gotham.”

“Stop calling it that!” Damian shouts.

“Don’t like the name?” Jason says, his grin sharp and mean. “You’re the one who cast the damn spell, kid. You selfish little—”

“Stop,” Tim said quickly, shoving between them. “Fighting’s not going to help. We need to figure out where we are.”

Damian’s eyes glittered with frustrated heat. But he backed away. His mouth tightened. He looked smaller now. Quieter. As if the words he’d thrown in anger were already curdling inside him.

They were just beginning to realize what those words had done.

They walked the rooftops in tense, quiet formation. This Gotham was bright. Sleek. Even sterile. They passed a Wayne Enterprises building that was glass and white chrome—not black steel. The Wayne Tower crest looked different.

“Look at this place,” Jason said under his breath. “Feels like Gotham after a bleach bath.”

“Or a parallel dimension,” Tim muttered. “If the Wish Stone was charged when Damian made a wish…”

“…Then this is a world where Bruce and Y/N never got together,” Dick said softly, voice tight. “Where she’s not our mom.”

Damian flinched at the phrase.

Cassandra, walking beside him, said nothing—but reached out and took his hand. Her grip was soft, grounding. She didn’t speak often. She didn’t need to.

“Something’s off,” Tim added, scanning a tech pad he’d managed to snag. “There’s no record of Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Orphan. Or Robin. Or any of us. Batman’s still active, but... alone.”

Jason’s brows lifted. “Like no sidekicks alone?”

“None. No Oracle. No Batgirl. No signals. No family. Just... Batman.”

“Sounds lonely,” Dick muttered.

Jason let out a breath. “Sounds wrong.”

“Who’s Batman, then?” Damian asked. “If it’s not Father—”

“No. It’s still Bruce,” Tim confirmed, voice low. “But... Bruce is different here.”

Something moved in the distance.

A shadow across the clouds.

The air shifted.

Cassandra tensed first. “We’re being watched.”

And then they weren’t alone.

Out of the darkness, with almost no sound, a figure dropped from the sky, landing on a nearby ledge with ease and heavy boots. He wore the cowl, yes. The armor, yes. But his jaw was tighter. His posture was different—hollow, somehow. Unweighted. And when he looked down at the five of them, crouched and ready for battle, there was no flicker of recognition.

Not even in his eyes.

This was not their father’s Batman.

“Stand down,” he ordered.

They didn’t.

Behind him, Wonder Woman landed with a soft metallic thud.

“Batman,” she said gently. “Look at their suits. Their faces.”

“I am,” he replied. “But I don’t know them.”

“Bruce?” Dick stepped forward cautiously. “It’s me.”

“Who are you?” Batman demanded, voice low. “You’re wearing my symbol. But you are not from here. The detector caught up immediately.”

Jason snorted. “No kidding.”

“You’re trespassing on a League-class perimeter zone,” he said. “I won’t ask again. Identify yourselves.”

Tim held up his hands. “My name is Tim Drake. That’s Dick Grayson. Jason Todd. Cassandra Cain. Damian Wayne.”

There was a pause.

Wonder Woman turned her head slowly. “Wayne?” she repeated. “As in Bruce Wayne?”

Tim nodded. “Yes. He’s our father. At least… in our world.”

Batman said nothing.

“Okay,” Jason muttered. “Yeah. This is officially too weird. He should’ve flinched at that. Or said something. Or punched something.”

Damian stepped forward now, quietly, slowly. His eyes never left the man behind the mask. “You’re not him,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

“I am Bruce Wayne,” the man answered. “But I don’t have children. I’ve never had children. And I work alone.”

None of them spoke.

Tim’s breath hitched. “You’ve never… adopted anyone?”

“No.” Cold. Flat. Unfeeling.

“Never trained sidekicks?”

Batman’s lip curled. “I don’t do sidekicks.”

A silence followed that. A silence that said everything.

Jason let out a long breath, stepping back. “Yeah. Cool. Okay. That’s—normal. Totally normal. We just got dropped into a world where you’re a jackass who’s never loved anyone. Awesome.”

“Jason—” Dick began.

“No. Screw that. The Demon Spawn made a wish, and the damn stone turned it into this.”

Damian’s face twisted. “I didn’t mean—”

“You said you wished they never got together,” Jason growled, stepping forward again. “You said she wasn’t your mother. You wanted to know what that felt like? Now you do.”

The smallest Wayne backed up a step. Cass touched his shoulder gently.

“Stop it,” she said, voice quiet but commanding.

They all fell silent again.

Batman and Wonder Woman exchanged glances, low-voiced conversation murmuring between them—protocols, League containment, off-world interference.

Tim looked at the skyline again. The lights. The moon. This wrong Gotham.

“. . . We need to find the stone,” he said quietly. “We need to find her.”

“She’s not here,” Damian muttered.

And yet—

“Do you, at least, know Y/N?” Cassandra asked, eyebrows twitching.

“Y/N Kent?” Diana asked, tilting her head. “Yeah. She’s a vigilante.”

Every one of the kids froze.

“…What?”

The silence rang too loud. No one could even breathe for a second.

“She works in the city,” Diana added, confused by the sudden tension. “Spider-something. Funny one. Red suit. You don’t know her?”

They were all staring now. Every one of them. Dick’s mouth hung open. Jason had stopped breathing. Tim’s eyebrows slowly rose higher and higher, disbelief pulling taut across his face. Cass didn’t even blink. And Damian—

Damian looked like someone had just kicked him in the chest.

Bruce glanced up at Diana. “She’s registered,” he said. “Class-B ranking. Operates alone. Annoying. Unpredictable.”

“Very effective,” Diana added quickly.

Jason laughed. A short, stunned sound that wasn’t funny at all. “Okay. Okay. That’s—no. That’s not right. She’s not a vigilante.”

“Y/N Kent?” Diana repeated.

“She’s not a vigilante,” Dick said firmly. “She’s our—” He stopped himself.

None of them said the word. Not one of them could.

“She’s Clark Kent’s sister,” Tim tried, forcing logic. “You must know that. Smallville. Raised on a farm. She’s—she’s normal.”

Diana shrugged, now visibly more confused than ever. “I know she’s Clark’s sister, yes. They’re close. I see her often.”

“You see her?” Cass asked sharply.

“She’s in and out of the Watchtower all the time,” Diana said. “Why are you all acting like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Jason stepped away, muttering, “Because maybe we have.”

Tim looked like someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over him. “In our world, she’s—she’s a civilian. She’s our mom.”

Diana blinked. “I… see.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Damian said, voice cold, too sharp for an eleven-year-old. “You said she’s a vigilante. What does she do?”

Diana looked between them, uneasy. “She’s an original. Joined the League’s reserve some months after we started. Works solo most of the time. Enhanced reflexes. Arachnid-based powers. Some tech. She uses a red suit, wisecracks a lot, very fast on rooftops. Goes by Spiderdevil.”

“Spiderdevil,” Cass echoed faintly, eyes distant.

Bruce, ever the commander, stepped forward. “You’ll come with us,” he said. “We’ll take you to the Watchtower. Maybe we can trace what happened with the artifact.”

He said it like a command. He didn’t ask.

But for once, none of them protested.

Because the Watchtower—even here, even now—was the one thing that felt solid.

It was space. It was neutral. It was familiar. If anything could help them orient themselves, it would be there.

They followed.

The ride was long and too short at once.

Tim gripped the straps beside his seat like they might steady his thoughts. Jason sat slumped, foot tapping furiously. Cass kept watching Damian, her gaze more like a shadow than a stare. Dick sat rigid, eyes on the stars, jaw tight.

And Damian—

Damian hadn’t said a word since Diana uttered your name. Even as the shuttle docked and the pressure equalized and the bay doors opened with a soft hiss, he stayed quiet. Tense.

The Watchtower was exactly the same. Almost.

That made it worse.

The halls gleamed the same way. The lights flickered just faintly. The hum of distant energy pulses in the walls, the barely-audible gravity calibrations—it was all identical. It looked like home.

But it wasn’t.

The main meeting room, the center of the tower, was still lined with holographic displays and long conference tables. But there were fewer chairs. Fewer signs of habitation. No second mugs left on the console by mistake. No Dick’s hoodie slung over the back of a seat. No post-it notes from you stuck to monitors with reminders to “eat something, Bats.”

Diana gestured toward the central terminal. “We’ll run a system scan,” she said. “If the stone reacted to an emotional command—”

“It did,” Tim interrupted. “It was activated by a verbal wish. Damian made it.”

“And I said I didn’t mean it,” Damian snapped.

“That doesn’t undo the damage.”

Diana raised a hand. “Enough. We’ll find a solution. I’ve already sent out a system-wide ping to cross-reference all interdimensional anomalies.”

She moved to a side console, fingers flying over the panel. “I also pinged all Class-B city-level vigilantes. Including Kent. She should be inbound.”

No one moved.

“…You called her?” Dick asked, voice tight.

“She’s a registered hero,” Diana said, as if that were the obvious part. “We need all eyes on this.”

The doors slid open with a whoosh.

None of them breathed.

You walked in like gravity didn’t apply to you. Well, in fairness, it didn’t always—especially not when your boots clung to glass and your gloves shot webbing thick enough to hold a car. But up here? You just had your red jacket zipped up halfway, goggles perched high on your forehead like a headband, and that half-eaten churro still in your hand.

“Yo!” you called, chewing as you walked. “Sorry, sorry, traffic on the magline was a mess. Something exploded in Metropolis and the tunnels are all gummed up. I brought snacks though—kind of. I ate most of them.”

You waved the stick of your mostly-devoured churro like it was a staff of authority. The grin you wore was crooked and full of easy charm, dimpled, unapologetic. The goggles glittered when the lights hit them just right.

Five pairs of eyes locked onto you.

“…Why are you all looking at me like that?” you asked, mouth full.

You didn’t recognize them.

You glanced at Diana. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on? Did I forget a meeting? Is this a multiversal invasion? It’s a multiversal invasion, isn’t it?”

You pointed at Cass. “She looks like me when I had braces. Is she me from a different timeline? Are any of them me? Because I feel like I missed the memo.”

“No,” Diana said, giving you a look.

You tilted your head. “Are they alternate Earth refugees? Because if I have to clean up that protocol paperwork again, I swear—”

“They’re from another timeline,” Bruce interrupted.

You stopped mid-step. The churro hung forgotten in your hand.

Bruce Wayne. Still wearing that cowl. Still standing exactly how he always did—broad, unyielding, every inch the soldier of shadow. You never liked him much. Always too serious. Too rigid. Still, you respected him.

You lowered your voice, then. “Oh. Got it. You want me to leave?”

“No,” Diana said. “We need your help.”

“My help?” Your eyebrows shot up. “What kind of messed-up timeline needs my help? Don’t you have like—twelve Batmen or something?”

“They know you,” Diana said.

You blinked. Slowly. “I mean, yeah. Most people do.”

“No,” Dick said, stepping forward now.

Your gaze flicked to him.

His eyes. His posture. The way he said your name when his mouth finally remembered how.

“Y/N.”

You faltered.

He said it like a prayer. Like something lost. Like something he wasn’t supposed to be able to say anymore. You studied him—older than the other teens, strong build, but kind eyes. Familiar eyes. Your heart twisted, a weird feeling you couldn’t place.

You looked at the others.

The smallest one—the one with the green eyes and trembling hands—looked like he was trying not to speak at all. Guilt spilled out of his expression like ink.

You licked your lips, voice gentler now. “Have we met before?”

None of them answered.

You laughed softly, trying to cut the tension. “Okay. That’s cryptic. Definitely not creepy at all.”

Diana turned to Bruce. “We need to figure this out. Fast.”

“We will,” he said without missing a beat. “They’re not lying.”

You looked back at them. And for a second—just a second—you felt something in your chest. A flicker. Like déjà vu. Like falling through a web of someone else’s memories. Your gaze caught on the trembling one again. The youngest. His shoulders were stiff but his hands were shaking.

He looked like a boy who’d seen a ghost and realized it didn’t recognize him.

But still. Nothing clicked. You didn’t know them. Not a single feature sparked recognition. Not a single thing on their faces made your heart beat with love, or even the tiniest flicker of affection.

You shifted your stance, uncomfortable in your own skin for once. You didn’t like that. You usually wore discomfort like armor, like silk. But this—this was something else.

You turned away slowly, the moment breaking like glass under a boot.

Then the Watchtower’s alert system pinged. “Additional League members arriving in Docking Bay 2,” the AI chimed.

You perked up, almost visibly. “Oh, thank God. Maybe one of them knows what the hell is going on.”

And sure enough, in came the cavalry.

Clark was first—because of course he was. Always first. Hair windswept, cape just a little too dramatic. He looked at you with a flash of confusion—one brow raised as if to say, “Why are you fidgeting?”—and then at the cluster of younger strangers with a slow, calculating gaze.

You immediately stepped toward him, the way you always did when the meetings got too stiff or the company too Gotham.

“Clark,” you said, not bothering to hide the relief in your tone. “Good. I was starting to feel like I’d wandered into someone else’s therapy session.”

Hal followed close behind, green glow still dimming from his ring. “What’d we miss?”

“Oh,” you said, flopping against Clark’s arm like a lazy cat, “just parallel universe trauma. You know. Tuesday things.”

Barry gave a low whistle as he caught sight of the five strangers. “Damn. That’s… a lot of Bat.”

“Five of them,” Hal muttered. “What’s Gotham breeding over there?”

“Bats,” you deadpanned. “They multiply when you turn off the lights.”

The joke didn’t land. None of them laughed. Not even a twitch of the lip.

You blinked.

“Tough crowd.”

“Y/N,” Clark murmured, more seriously now, “maybe… tone it down a bit.”

“Tone down what?” you said, pushing off his arm. “They’re strangers. From another dimension. I don’t exactly know how I’m supposed to act around a bunch of Batman-themed mourners who keep looking at me like I died ten years ago.”

Behind you, Jason shifted, jaw clenched so hard it clicked. Cass’s fingers curled into her sleeves.

Bruce said nothing.

And you hated that. Hated the silence more than the confusion. Because silence meant there was weight. Meaning. Things left unsaid that clearly had teeth.

You turned your attention elsewhere. Specifically: the thin thread of webbing you began to twist out of your palm like a nervous tic. A thin glimmer of white thread pulsed from beneath your skin, crawling from your veins and spiraling between your fingers.

You knew people hated when you did this in meetings.

You did it anyway.

The sensation grounded you—always had. Ever since the mutation took root. The webbing wasn’t tech, not really. Organic in origin, but enhanced later with Clark’s help, once he realized your little gifts weren’t going away. It spilled like silk and solidified with a thought. Responsive. Yours.

You flicked a wrist and let a loose strand form between your fingers, lazily twirling it in your grip. A second strand connected to your other hand. You made a slingshot. A hammock. A net so small it could only catch flies. You grinned.

Barry leaned in. “Y/N…”

“I know,” you said, not looking up. “I know. Just... itchy.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Itchy?”

“Shut it,” you muttered.

Clark stepped forward, trying to bridge the gap. “We need to understand what caused the shift. If it was a wish stone—”

“It was,” Tim interrupted, his voice shaky but controlled. “The real one. The one locked in the Themysciran vault.”

Diana’s expression grew dark. “That stone should not be functional.”

“Well, it is,” Jason snapped. “It reacted when—” He stopped, glaring down at Damian, then away. “When someone said something they didn’t mean.”

Diana took over then, walking through the entire chain of events once again, voice composed but serious. She didn’t leave out a single detail, from the children’s claims of who you were in their world to the truth of Damian’s wish—though she left his name out of that part, letting the guilt speak for itself.

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Barry said, raising his hand halfway. “She’s their mom? Like… full mom?”

“No,” Tim said, voice thin. “Not biologically. But she’s—she’s the only one that ever felt like one.”

Something inside you jerked, like a string being yanked tight from the inside.

Barry blinked. “I thought you were allergic to commitment.”

“I am.”

You tilted your head to the side slowly, blinking down at your hand. You flexed your fingers absently. You didn’t want to look at them anymore. It hurt in a place you didn’t know you had.

Your friend glanced between you and the group. “That’s wild. I mean—Y/N’s great. She’s a menace, but she’s great.”

“Thanks, Barry,” you muttered. “I think.”

Hal threw you a wink. “Don’t worry. You’re still our favorite spider freak.”

“‘Freak’ is such a strong word,” you said, clicking your tongue as you shot a single, thin line of web straight into his mouth. He yelped, swatting at his face as Barry burst out laughing.

Bruce, behind you, groaned audibly. “Must you do this now?”

“Yes,” you replied brightly. “Because you’re annoying, and I’m nervous.”

You didn’t like Batman. Or rather, you didn’t like working with him. He was cold. Stiff. All gravel voice and rules. You respected him in the way you respected black holes—dangerous, efficient, completely devoid of warmth. He didn’t care for your improvisational style, and you didn’t care for his brooding self-righteousness. A mutual understanding of irritation.

One of the Batkids flinched when he saw it. Tim. The motion was small, involuntary. But his eyes widened the second he realized it was coming from inside your skin.

That wasn’t what their mother had.

They didn’t say anything about it.

Clark hovered nearby, always protective, always watching your shoulders. You appreciated it more than you said. Even now, the way his hand hovered near your arm when you stopped spinning webs was enough to keep you steady.

You swallowed hard, pushing an imaginary mask over your facade, jumping to the side to see the console more closer, leg moving up and down.

“Alright. Somebody tell me what we’re doing. Are we fixing the wish? Calling Zatanna? Reversing quantum fallout? Because if I sit here another ten minutes watching you all argue while these poor kids look like they’re one emotional breeze away from crumbling, I might actually lose it.”

#bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #kent!batmom!reader #batboys x reader #bruce wayne x you #platonic dick grayson x reader #platonic jason todd x reader #platonic cassandra cain x reader #platonic barbara gordon x reader #platonic tim drake x reader #platonic damian wayne x reader

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supernovafics · 1 month ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4k words

summary: in which you get stuck in a bathroom with the one person you can’t stand

warnings: enemies to lovers, scoops ahoy era steve, explicit language, a few mentions of blood, the tiniest bit of angst

author’s note: was thinking about enemies to lovers with steve and then this happened 🫶🏾

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The second you closed the bathroom door behind you, you thought about how stupid this entire night was.

You examined your shirt; the red stain looked a lot worse than you expected, and the material was already sticking to your skin in the worst possible way. You silently cursed the random guy who bumped into you and didn’t even apologize for spilling his entire drink on you.

You pulled off your shirt and set it on the sink, leaving you in just your bra. As you went to pull a towel off the rack, someone pushed open the door. They rushed into the bathroom and closed the door behind them, and didn’t notice that you were already in there until they turned around.

And you didn’t register who it was until he was facing you too.

Steve Harrington, also known as the bane of your existence, and it had been that way since Sophomore year of high school; ever since you two were paired up on an English project and you ended up doing all of the work for it. That wasn’t enough to make you hate him, but when it happened again at the end of the year for History class, that changed. From then on out, he annoyed you to no end. He was always trying to charm his way through everything, but you saw through all of the “King Steve” bullshit. Everyone seemed to love him, but you felt the complete opposite.

You didn’t even know that he had also been at this party.

The words, “Steve, what the hell are you doing?” were on the tip of your tongue, but then you noticed the gash above his left eyebrow.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding,” You said, turning away from him immediately. You grabbed one of the grey hand towels off the rack and tossed it in his direction. “I can’t look at you right now.”

Steve laughed a bit. “So you’re scared of blood. Got it.”

He was completely right, and it was probably obvious how right he was, but it felt like second nature to deny anything and everything he said. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” He said, the sarcasm in his tone was almost too clear, and it made you want to drown yourself in the bathtub. “So you’re just actively avoiding eye contact with me for fun?”

“Not looking at you is actually one of my favorite hobbies because whenever I do look at you, it makes me nauseous.”

“Ha ha, good one,” He said dryly, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“So, who beat you up?” You asked. There was the smallest hint of an amused smile on your face that you were certain would've made Steve roll his eyes again if you were facing him.

He scoffed. “Okay, saying ‘beat up’ is a fucking stretch.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Sorry for barging in. I didn’t know you were in here,” He said, changing the subject, and for the time being, you let him do so. “There was a line for the bathroom downstairs, so I came up here.”

You knew that he was telling the truth. The bathroom downstairs did have the longest line ever, so that was why you headed upstairs— bypassing the handwritten sign that said do not go upstairs— and went into the first bathroom you could find.

“I’ll leave,” You heard him say from behind you.

You nodded. “Good.”

Him leaving shouldn’t have taken longer than a second or two, but then there was a weird sound that you couldn’t fully decipher— it sounded like something hit the floor— and Steve let out a quiet, “Oh, fuck.”

“What happened?”

“Um, the doorknob fell off.”

“What?”

Finally, you turned around and saw the silver door knob on the floor, which Steve picked up and placed on the sink counter.

“Shit,” You said as you walked over to the door and started banging on it, hoping that someone would hear the noise and come help, and Steve joined you and started doing the same.

However, it quickly proved to be pointless when you realized just how loud the music was downstairs. You could hear the faint bass of whatever pop song was playing through the shut door.

You sighed after a minute of hopeless banging. “No one’s gonna hear us.”

You finally met Steve’s eyes, specifically the hand towel that he had pressed above his left one. You could see a little bit of blood on the towel, but it surprisingly didn’t bother you too much.

Steve’s eyes, however, were not on yours and were instead trailed a little downward.

In the midst of him rushing into the bathroom, you’d forgotten to grab the towel, and you especially forgot that you were just standing in front of him with only your bra and jeans on.

You crossed your arms over your chest to get him to stop staring at your boobs. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” He mumbled and turned his gaze in the other direction.

With a huff, you finally grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders, and then you sat down on the white tiled floor. You leaned back against the bathtub, and after a moment of hesitation, Steve sat down with you.

Things became quiet for a few moments, and then you looked at him and pointed at where the towel was pressed against his forehead. “Let me see it.”

He gave you an amused look. “You sure you’re not gonna pass out?”

“Good one. You’re so hilarious,” You deadpanned. “Just let me see. I wanna make sure you’re not gonna bleed out sitting next to me right now.”

Steve relented and pulled the towel away from his face. The wound wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, which made it easier to look at it, but seeing the dried blood around it still kinda did something to your stomach.

“Okay,” You took a breath and looked away. “You’re not bleeding anymore, which is good. And it doesn’t even look that bad. Just a cut.”

Steve let out a laugh. “You literally sound like you’re about to throw up.”

“Shut up,” You glared at him and then changed the subject before he made fun of you further. “So, do you finally wanna tell me who beat you up, or is the story too embarrassing?”

He sighed. “I saw that guy spill his drink on you, and I went over to him saying that he should find you and apologize— I might’ve yelled it at him. And he pushed me for yelling at him, and I pushed him back, and then he pushed me even harder into a stupid coat rack, which cut me.”

“Why would you do that?” You asked, eyes furrowing at his explanation. “We hate each other.”

“That doesn’t mean that I wanna watch a random guy be a dick to you,” Steve answered, and before you could process him actually being nice to you for the first time in a long time, he followed up with, “That’s my job.”

You promptly rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

Steve only gave you a condescending smirk in response and put the hand towel back on his forehead.

You stood up. “There’s gotta be bandaids in here.”

You started looking in the medicine cabinet first, which didn’t have them, so you then went to the drawer under the sink. Every few moments, you had to readjust the towel around your shoulders because it kept slipping, which made looking through everything a lot more annoying.

“Here,” Steve said, interrupting your search. You turned and looked down at him as he pulled off the navy blue jacket he was wearing and handed it over to you.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, putting it on and zipping it all the way up.

You continued looking in the drawer and found a few stray bandaids, and one of them looked big enough to cover Steve’s cut. You grabbed the towel that had just been wrapped around your shoulders and turned on the sink, wetting a piece of it.

When you shut it off and turned to look down at Steve again, you thought about how you were going to do this. And then you realized that the easiest way to do it would have to be the most intimate.

“Put your legs out,” You told him, and he looked at you in confusion for a second, but then understood what was happening and did what you said.

“Don’t make this weird,” You said as you settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of him and pushing into the tiled floor.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” He responded and pulled the towel away from his head.

You first cleaned the wound, wiping away the dried blood, and then you patted his skin with the dry part of the towel and put the bandaid on. You weren’t entirely sure why you were doing this for him, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

You shifted off his lap when you were done and put both towels in the tub, so you didn’t have to look at them.

Things became quiet, and you hated the silence, so you felt like you had to say something to break it.

“So, what are your plans for the summer?”

Steve scoffed immediately, and you looked at him.

“What? I can’t ask normal questions?”

“No, because I know coming from you, that’s not just a ‘normal question.’”

You stared at him, completely confused because you didn’t understand what he meant, and then it hit you.

“There’s no way you’re still sensitive about the whole summer school thing from two years ago.”

He gave you an annoyed look. “It was your fault that I had to go to summer school.”

It had been because of the History project. You told your teacher about Steve’s complete lack of help on it, which was a part of the final, and he failed the class and was sent to summer school because of it. After that summer, it was pretty obvious that he disliked you just as much as you disliked him.

“You deserved it,” You told him. “The project sucked because you did absolutely nothing to help me and I refused to get a bad grade because of you.”

This was the first time you two were actually talking about it, instead of just sharing withering looks and annoyed eye rolls like you two did when school started back in September.

“You know I’m right,” You mumbled instead of keeping things silent for the rest of the time you two were forced to be in here together, like you maybe should’ve.

“You are right.”

“Holy shit,” You finally looked at him again. “I wish I could go outside and check if pigs are flying because I never thought I’d see the day where Steve fucking Harrington admitted he was wrong.”

He scoffed at your words, which sounded more like a laugh, as he shook his head at you.

“You’re not some saint, though,” He said. “I saw the look on your face when we first got paired up for that English project. You thought I was an idiot.”

“No, I didn’t think you were an idiot. I just thought that you were like every other jock…” You trailed off as you thought about your words. “Okay, yeah, maybe I thought you were an idiot. But, you didn’t do anything to prove me wrong, though.”

“Why would I want to?”

You had an answer ready to go, but then you realized that he had a point. If the tables had been turned, you wouldn’t have wanted to prove anything to him either. Spitefully, you probably would’ve ended up doing the same thing he did to you.

“I’m sorry,” You said after a moment. “And I don’t think you’re an idiot, honestly.”

“You don’t have to lie. You and my parents share the same thoughts.”

“No, I’m serious. Being bad at school doesn’t make you an idiot, it just makes you…” You tried to think of the best way to finish your statement. “Bad at school.”

“Wow, very profound,” Steve joked.

You rolled your eyes at him, but also couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m sorry too,” He told you, and hearing him finally say that slightly surprised you. “I should’ve helped you on those projects.”

You sighed as you crossed your legs under you. “I finally get why you didn’t. I was an asshole for judging you.”

“Still,” Steve responded. “Making you do everything was a shitty thing to do.”

You shrugged as you said your next words. “Honestly, none of it even matters now. We graduated. All that shit’s in the past now.”

Steve hummed. “So, we’re finally agreeing on a truce after we graduated?”

“Yeah, seems like it,” You laughed a little. “Unless you wanna keep this stupid vendetta going through our twenties and until we’re both separately married with kids and we can pit them against each other too?”

“You paint a very vivid picture,” Steve gave you an amused smile. “But no, I agree with this truce.”

You nodded and smiled back. “Nice.”

Once again, things became quiet, and you looked away from him. You silently wondered how long you two had been stuck in here. Apparently, long enough for things to actually become civil between you two.

“I’m working at the new mall they opened for the summer,” Steve said, answering your question from earlier. “Ice cream shop.”

“Fun,” You said and actually meant it. “I won’t be doing anything until college starts in the fall.”

“Where are you going?”

“The community college for two years to save money, and then hopefully transfer to the University of Chicago.”

“That’s nice.”

From there, the conversation was normal. It became two people who kind of knew nothing about each other, finally learning things that friends knew about one another. Although calling Steve your friend felt like a stretch, and like you were getting way too ahead of yourself.

After tonight, whenever you and he were finally set free from this bathroom, you weren’t sure that you two would ever have another conversation. Just because you two agreed on a truce didn’t mean that you would now be friends. You had a feeling that you'd end up going your separate ways once you were out of here.

However, in this moment, you felt entirely too comfortable, and the conversation moved so easily that it felt like you were in some pretend world where you and Steve had been friends forever— the conversation ended up in a place where you two were playfully bantering and laughing and talking about nonsense.

Your eyes practically lit up when Steve told you the most random tidbit that intrigued you probably too much. “Show me.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “No. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“You can’t say that you have a scar on the side of your ribs that looks like a smurf and not show me,” You said and shifted closer to him. “I need proof.”

He laughed again, clearly amused by your current antics. He didn’t stop you from practically settling yourself in his lap to get close to him and grab at his shirt, but he did keep lightly shooing your hands away. “For someone who almost threw up seeing the cut on my forehead, you really wanna see this scar.”

“Scars and blood are two entirely different things,” You told him, and then once again reached out to grab the ends of his shirt. His hands found your wrists, and you gave him a look. “Are you lying about this little league scar?”

“I’m not. I just think you’re gonna see it and not agree with me.”

“Let me be the judge of that, Harrington.”

You weren’t sure why you cared so much to see it. You honestly didn’t even like The Smurfs all that much.

Steve let go of your wrists and finally lifted his shirt so that you could see the scar.

“Hmm,” You said, tilting your head and examining it for a second. You could make out the typical smurf hat and somewhat of the head. “Honestly, I do kinda see the resemblance.”

“Thank you,” He said as he pulled his shirt back down.

In the midst of all the playful arguing, you didn’t even realize that you had maneuvered yourself onto his lap. And in this moment, with everything calmed down and back to normal, you should’ve shifted off of him. There was absolutely no reason to stay in his lap— you weren’t putting another bandaid on him, and you were no longer looking at his scar. But you didn’t move.

Maybe you were waiting for Steve to say the words, to break this moment with a playful laugh or joke, and push things right back to how they just were.

But he didn’t say anything.

For the first time in the last hour— at least, you assumed it had been an hour— things between you two were comfortably quiet.

Inwardly, you could admit that you really liked being this close to him, and when one of his hands found your hip, keeping you planted exactly where you were, you knew he felt the same.

It was a silent conversation playing out in the look you two shared. Both of you simultaneously daring and practically begging the other to close the small bit of distance between you two.

And then it was as if your and his resolve broke at the exact same time because you both moved in quickly. Somehow, though, your lips met softly in the middle.

You had never thought about kissing Steve Harrington, but you suddenly felt so certain that any thoughts about it wouldn’t have lived up to the real thing.

The kiss was damn near perfect. It started soft and sweet, as if you both were just trying to test the waters, and then it quickly shifted into something that was the opposite of innocent. Your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and both of his grabbed at your hips, slipping beneath his jacket that you were wearing. He lightly squeezed your skin, which made you gasp into his mouth and gave him the perfect opportunity for his tongue to find yours.

Aside from thinking about how phenomenal this all felt, your mind was effectively blank. You didn’t think about what this would or wouldn’t mean, or why it all felt so weirdly right.

When you pulled back to catch your breath and your forehead fell against his, it was then that you noticed that the music had stopped. But neither of you got up to bang on the door again in hopes that someone would finally hear you two asking for help.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” Were the first words that fell from your mouth when your eyes met his.

You weren't even entirely sure why you were saying that, but it just felt like the right thing to say. What other explanation could've logically summed up how you two went from hating each other to surprisingly becoming civil to abruptly kissing in just the matter of an hour or two?

A confused look crossed his face. “Why?”

“Because…” You were going to end your answer with “we hate each other,” but that definitely wasn't true anymore.

Before you could further think about how to answer Steve’s question, you both heard a confused-sounding, “What the hell?” from the other side of the door.

You looked away from Steve and at the shut bathroom door. “Hey! We’re stuck in here.”

“Oh, shit, hold on a sec. This happens all the time,” You recognized the voice as Lisa Matthews; it was her party. “One of the reasons why there was literally a sign saying, Do not go upstairs.”

The door was finally opened moments later, and Lisa proceeded to kick you and Steve out of her house after telling you both that the party had been shut down.

“Do you need a ride?” Steve asked when you two were standing on the sidewalk.

“I drove,” You answered, voice suddenly soft for some awkward reason.

Steve nodded at that. “Okay.”

“Okay,” You nodded back. “Um, see ya around.”

It was obvious that there was a lot more to say, but you both silently decided to leave your conversation from back in the bathroom unfinished.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

On your drive to the mall, you reminded yourself that you were simply going there to give Steve back his jacket— the jacket that you hadn’t realized you were still wearing until you were parked in your driveway after leaving Lisa’s house.

There was a chance that Steve wouldn’t even be at the mall right now; you didn’t know his work schedule or what his shifts were like. But when you woke up, you decided that there was no harm in taking that chance.

A chance of simply returning his jacket to him. Nothing else.

You saw him before he saw you. It was kind of hard not to spot him. He was standing behind the counter at the ice cream shop wearing a blue and white sailor’s uniform, complete with a hat that said “Ahoy!” across it.

You had to bite your lip to hold back the shocked laugh you wanted to let out.

When Steve spotted you walking over to the counter, he immediately pulled off the white hat he was wearing and pushed a hand through his hair.

“You being dressed like this is truly the greatest thing I have ever seen,” You said, smiling at him.

“I should’ve never told you that I work here,” Was Steve’s immediate response, and that time you couldn’t hold back your laugh.

“And I’m so very glad you did. God, I wish I had a camera right now,” You told him. “You look very cute.”

Surprisingly enough, you were actually telling the truth with your last statement.

Steve rolled his eyes at your words, though, because he couldn’t tell you were being honest. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to give this back to you,” You answered and held up his navy blue jacket.

“Oh, okay,” He said and grabbed it when you handed it over. “Thanks.”

“Also, I realized that I never answered your question last night,” You said before you could think better of it.

“My question?”

His slight confusion let you know that you could’ve taken back your blurted-out words. You could’ve disregarded the entire thing and just ended the conversation right there, but you realized that you didn’t want to.

“When I said that we shouldn’t have kissed, and you asked why. I never answered you.”

“Oh, that question,” Steve responded, a look that you couldn’t decipher crossing his face. “You have an answer now?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod. “Yeah, I think so, yeah.”

Three “yeahs” and yet you actually didn’t feel sure about anything, especially what you were doing in this moment. However, you abruptly decided that you wanted to lean headfirst into honesty.

You didn't fully understand how things with Steve had been able to shift so easily, or why joking around with him and kissing him last night felt so surprisingly right, but you really wanted to find out.

“I said that the kiss shouldn’t have happened, but I was wrong,” You told him, and then continued speaking before you could potentially talk yourself out of admitting the rest. “I want it to happen again.”

You didn’t know what you expected Steve to say in response. You knew what you were hoping for— in a perfect world, he would tell you that he was thinking the same thing as you— but you had no idea where his mind was since last night.

“Yeah?” He asked and gave you a small smile that managed to warm your insides.

“Yeah,” You answered and matched his smile, growing a bit more confident. “Obviously, not here because there are children present, but if you wanna get stuck in another bathroom somewhere, that could be fun.”

“That could be really fun,” Steve responded, playing along. “Or we could skip the bathroom because it was kinda small. Maybe watch a movie on my couch instead.”

“You’re right,” You agreed, keeping your voice cool and normal, even though on the inside you were feeling the opposite. “That would be a lot better.”

Days ago, you couldn’t have imagined feeling this giddy about Steve Harrington. But things were so different now— changed with one long-overdue conversation and one really good kiss.

“Tonight?” He asked. “7, if you’re free?”

You nodded. “It’s a date.”

Steve’s smile grew as he repeated the three words back to you. “It’s a date.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fic

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missdynamighttt · 4 months ago

Note

thinking abt katsuki who gets mad when u put a pillow on ur lap when he lays down on it 💔💔 AND THIS IS FOR THE CHUBBY GIRLS W THICK THIGHS!!! urgh katsuki would so love a pluz size girl he would be all over her

katsuki was pouting. actually, no—he was sulking. that'd probably because he was in hell. not the kind with fire and demons, no, this was worse.

you had barely sat down on the couch before he sprawled out dramatically, resting his head in your lap like he always did.

it was his favorite place to be, right on top of you, wrapped up in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

but today, you did the unthinkable.

because right in front of him, you had the audacity, the sheer disrespect, to place a pillow on your lap. his lap. the lap that he was supposed to lay on, unfiltered, unobstructed, completely consuming you like he deserved.

“what the fuck is this?” he grumbled, glaring at the offensive object like it personally insulted his entire bloodline.

“it’s a pillow, katsuki,” you replied, suppressing a smile.

“yeah? no shit, why is it here?” his voice was all sorts of offended, like you had personally wronged him in the worst way possible. “i don’t wanna lay on some dumb pillow—i wanna lay on you.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe i don’t want your heavy-ass head on my legs all the time.”

“oh, please,” he scoffed, shifting so he could grab at your thighs. his fingers squeezed your flesh, his grip firm but greedy. “these are mine. they’re meant for me. not a goddamn pillow.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh while his red eyes flicked between you and the pillow like he was debating setting it on fire. “katsuki—”

“no.” he glared at the pillow like it was his sworn enemy. “you’re warm. you’re soft. you’re perfect. and you’re putting this thing between us?”

he sounded actually hurt, as if the pillow was personally getting in the way of his love for you. “why would you do that to me?”

you blinked at him. “are you really getting this worked up over a pillow?”

“yes.” he said it without shame, without hesitation. “now move it.”

you raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “and what do i get if i do?”

he smirked, shifting so his hand trailed up your thigh, squeezing with purpose. “oh, baby, you know what you’ll get.”

you sighed dramatically, pretending to be reluctant as you removed the pillow.

the instant it was gone, katsuki squished his face into your thighs with a satisfied groan, wrapping his arms around your waist like he was afraid you’d take it away again.

“never pull that shit again,” he mumbled, nuzzling into you. “i got the best damn thighs in the world, and you wanna cover ‘em up with some dumbass pillow? over my dead body."

he sighed deeply, like he had just endured the greatest hardship known to man. his face was completely buried in your thighs, as if he could merge with them if he tried hard enough.

"see?" he murmured, voice slightly muffled against your thigh. "this is how it's supposed to be. no stupid pillow. just you."

you rolled your eyes, but the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "you’re such a drama queen."

"yeah, and you're my throne, so shut up and let me enjoy it," he shot back, already closing his eyes like he planned to stay there forever.

you huffed a laugh as you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. his grip on you tightened, a pleased hum vibrating against your skin as he melted into your touch.

for someone so explosive, so rough around the edges, he sure acted like a needy housecat when it came to you.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ anon ilysm for requesting this, i really do. i'm probably writing the breeding kink next after this, considering it a 4k special since we're going so fast😭 lmk if you wanna be tagged and i hope you guys enjoy💗💗

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pbpressure · 4 months ago

Text

the hat stays on | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, a lick of fluff, fingering, reader gets some really good head, overstimulation, dom!paige, sub!reader, degradation (reader absolutely has a humilitation kink), praise, spanking, spit, strap sex + riding, and there's some tears but it hardly counts as crying, i think that's all...let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 4k-ish

summary: to see paige being celebrated for all that she's accomplished this season sends your emotions into a frenzy. but there's one thing you can't seem to shake...the hat she's given to celebrate that final four ticket punch. and how badly you want her to bend you over while she's wearing it.

author's note: my april fools prank is that i’m posting this after saying i was gonna disappear! i was just waiting for this season's version of post elite 8 paige and obviously we know the impact of her in a hat. here’s something to hold you guys (and myself) over for now, managed to put this together literally within a few hours and did my best to proofread but forgive me if anything slipped!

as always feedback is appreciated <3

enjoy! x

if there was ever a time to be ravenous, realistically it wasn’t now. but you couldn’t help it.

after paige and the team punched their ticket to the final four, the way that the crowd erupted was electric. the confetti, the speeches, the hugs, the tears. it was monumental. but as emotional of a moment it had been, you could only focus on one thing.

paige in that stupid hat.

her entire demeanor changed when it hit the top of her head. as usual she was all jokes, but there was no denying that you were yearning to be beneath her just as she was right now.

you’d stood back and waited for what felt like hours.

interviews, pictures, congratulations from friends and family. it rightfully couldn’t wait, so that meant you had to.

but when paige is finally done and she locks eyes with you from across the hall you feel like you’re the only two around.

walking over as calm as you can manage to avoid looking dramatic, you immediately are engulfed in her arms. she lifts you from the ground momentarily and spins around, not missing the way you giggle, chanting “you did it!” with the gummiest smile imaginable on your face.

“babe, oh my god i’m so proud of you!” you squeak from excitement, still partially buried in her chest.

she kisses the top of your head, pulling you back from her body so she could get a good look at you.

“thank you for coming, baby, it means the world to have you here right now.”

“you know i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

when you finish your sentence, voice low and filled with admiration, you watch paige’s gaze soften even more.

then she’s bending down to place a kiss on your lips.

it’s gentle, sweet, and when you both pull apart you can’t help but smile again. feeling the love radiate off of her.

but then you look up beyond her eyes, immediately catching sight of the reason you’d been so eager to sit and watch her do media for an hour.

“it’s the hat, huh?” paige breaks your thought, raising her eyebrows all too knowingly.

you nod, licking your lips unintentionally and smirking when you watch her eyes flutter downwards and then back up.

“you like?” she asks again, voice dripping with pride.

“oh, you have no idea.” you grumble, rolling your eyes playfully and lowering your hands to her hips.

but she knew exactly what she was doing.

paige can feel you squeeze her slightly, signaling that there was more desperation behind you’d said.

you stand up on your toes, getting as close to her ear as you can before she meets you halfway. covering your mouth with a single hand, the next few words to leave your mouth aren’t a shock at all.

“i want you to fuck me in it. i need you to.”

and before you can return to your true height, paige is the one grabbing your hips now, holding you so you remain close and it’s her leaning towards your ear this time.

“then when i get home, you better be laid out and waiting.”

your eyes go wide, not having expected that to be her response. but you compose yourself, pulling away from her completely and nodding. you squeeze her hand out of habit before turning and getting out of the arena as fast as possible.

you knew you’d have plenty of time to get back before she did, but you were rushing for your own sake.

you’re not sure how much time passes, but as soon as you shut the door behind you you’re already shedding layers of clothing.

stopping when you’re just in your bra and panties you lay on the bed, the air in the room biting at your exposed skin.

you stare at the ceiling for god knows how long before you hear the door once again being unlocked, then it opens and closes.

the sound of paige’s footsteps made you swallow hard, the anticipation eating away at you.

when she enters the room you almost don’t want to lift your head to look at her, but you have to and you’re glad you do.

her skin is still flushed, she’s wearing the same shirt, just with sweats instead of her uniform shorts. the sweats hang low on her hips and you know that if she raises her arms just slightly your eyes will be met with the waistband of her underwear.

and of course the hat stayed on. she essentially promised you that it would.

you press your thighs together unknowingly, trying to relieve the pulsing between them. but she’s not pleased with that, crossing the room in just a few strides until she’s stood in front of you.

with a strong hand she smacks at your knee before placing the same hand between them and pushing outwards until your legs fall open again.

“i wish you could see yourself right now,” she utters, chuckling. “legs spread, pussy begging to get fucked. it’s a little pathetic.”

you don’t say anything back, but you whine and reach your hand out for her. that’s smacked away too.

“use your words, c’mon.”

“paige, please? i waited all night, i even laid here like you asked.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it sounds distraught enough.

the same hand that had just swatted yours away is now tracing up and down your right leg. her touch is feather light, you feel goosebumps raising to the surface of each spot she grazes.

up and down your knee, the outside of your thigh. up your hip back down and then towards your cunt that was sopping wet without a doubt. she ignores that though, trailing her fingers up and down the inside of your thigh now.

you’re panting, try not to make too much noise. but also growing extremely impatient.

“i’ll tell you what,” paige blurts out, pausing her hand as well. “let’s see how long you can go without tappin’ out. i’ll decide when and IF you get to take my dick tonight.”

you whimper, already thinking about the various ways you wanted to protest. but she doesn’t even let you begin.

“or i could leave you here like this? go celebrate with my teammates and let you figure out how you’re gonna cum.”

“no! please, do something.” you beg, leaning up even further on your elbows.

paige bends down until her nose is kissing yours, you can feel her breath mingling with your own jagged ones.

“you’re begging already? this sound be fun.” she says, the grin on her lips as arrogant as ever.

you don’t get much time to gather yourself again before she’s on her knees in front of you. she wasted no time hooking her fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs.

when your bare cunt is exposed you get the urge to shut your legs, but the thought is long gone when you hear paige hiss below you.

“you’re this wet already and i haven’t even done anything. i must really get you hot, hmm?” she laughs. it almost enrages you but then you’re reminded of your current position.

“i’ve only ever gotten this wet for you.”

your voice is shaky, but she can hear you loud and clear.

“i know.”

she wraps her arms around your thighs completely, pulling you closer. then her mouth is on you in a heartbeat.

“shit! p-paige slow down,” you don’t even believe those words leave your mouth. but after waiting so long, you think you’ve got a good three minutes in you before you cum. “FUCK!”

she says nothing, tongue messy and fast between your folds. the sounds that quickly fall onto your ears only adding to the way she was doing a number on you.

you feel a gush of wetness leak from you and paige groans against your clit, tongue quick to lap it up.

you’re a mess, you try your best to compose yourself but it’s no use.

“p, you’re so good! fuck, d-don’t stop.”

she had no plans to stop, but when you beg her not to she is certain that she won’t give up until her jaw is on fire.

you crane your neck to sneak a peek at her and you choke on a moan.

the only thing you can see is her head slightly bobbing.

of course covered by her hat.

you reach down, hands looking to grip onto something the best they can manage. you’ve got one hand cradling the side of her head and the other on top of it.

“just like that baby, i’m so close!” you yelp, head falling backwards into the mattress once more.

“i know.” she says for the second time tonight. except this time to emphasize she pulls back completely, taking a breath and forcibly ejecting a wad of spit from between her lips. it falls in a hot glob onto your clit and you think your heart stops for a moment.

you gasp, back arching off the bed completely.

“oh my god! paige–“ you mewl, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head that you swear you’re unconscious for a split second.

the lewdness of the act is what pushes you over the edge. you cum, so much that you should probably be embarrassed. but you couldn’t even blame yourself.

paige was meant to eat pussy. she knew how good she was at it too, never missing the opportunity to get between your legs.

you feel a slight sheen of sweat covering your entire body and your toes curl, your body trembling slightly. static in your limbs.

when paige doesn’t pull away you cry out, trying to pry her head away from you. this earns you another smack on your thigh.

she pulls away, lips glistening and the remnants of your first orgasm all over her chin.

“already? you’re done?” she asks, out of breath herself, and her eyes blown out now.

“n-no i just need a second.”

“that’s not what the deal was. don’t push me away again unless you really want me to stop. because i will.” she pants, her head lowering again.

opting to say nothing and save yourself you’re biting your lip so hard that you’re sure it’ll draw blood.

paige begins lapping at your cunt again, intending to leave nothing behind. you feel her using two of her fingers to part your folds, ensuring that the tip of her tongue would reach every inch of you.

those same fingers circle your hole teasingly, only to slip in with ease.

your throat burns from how vocal you’ve already been, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering when you feel paige’s digits knuckle deep in you.

“you’re so deep baby, fuck! j-just like that i–“ whatever else you were gonna say dies on the tip of your tongue when paige curls her fingers upwards.

without pulling her fingers from you she rises from her knees slightly, wanting to watch you come undone for a second time.

“i think i know this pussy better than you do, what do you think?” paige asks, groaning at the end of her sentence when she feels how you clench around her fingers.

“yes! yes, yes, yes!” that’s the only thing you can come up with, her fingers are jamming against that spongy spot inside you over and over. you can’t think.

“give me one more, i know you can.” she demands, not at all considering that you’d deny her that.

you open your eyes for a split second and immediately close them when you see her already looking right back at you.

“i-i can’t p! please.” you plead, already sure that your second orgasm was seconds away.

“take it.”

and you do, almost knocking her over with the way your lower body starts to thrash around.

thankfully she’s grounded, and much stronger than you. when she catches herself she had to hold you down until your orgasm started to subside.

in the midst of finishing you have no idea what you’re saying but it doesn’t matter, paige knows she’s doing everything just right.

she slips her fingers out of you and watches your cunt intently and it contracts around nothing at all.

she can feel how wet she is herself and realizes that as much as she’s enjoying watching you fall apart, she needs to hurry up and fuck you because she had half a mind to cum in her pants.

noticing how your breathing starts to return to normal, she’s quick to leave the bed.

you feel her get up, but you don’t question it. opening your eyes and blinking to adjust to the light in the room. failing to realize just how spent you were, tears blur your vision. you don’t even remember crying.

but when your eyes land on paige approaching the bed again, you easily spot the addition that she’s carrying.

her strap.

your stomach is hot once again, and you do your best to avoid eye contact. but it doesn’t matter because she’s quick to grab you by your chin forcing you to look at her.

“we’re not done, and i know you can. so i don’t wanna hear it.”

not trusting any real words to leave your mouth if you had opened it, you gulp. pleading to the girl in front of you with just your eyes.

she’s standing at full height over your body, the silicone hanging on her hips. you feel yourself getting antsy, itching to satisfy her in whatever way you could.

you ignore your limbs screaming in exhaustion and struggle to kneel in front of her. you sit there for a second, staring. again stuck on how annoyingly good she looked in that damn hat.

“well?” she urges, clearly growing impatient with you. “it’s not gonna suck itself.”

you take her in your hand, now angled towards your parted lips.

it’s heavy when it hits your tongue and you moan at the familiar feeling, the vibrations traveling straight to paige’s clit.

gradually taking inch by inch into your mouth you don’t stop until you’re gagging, your nose meets the base of the harness. paige’s hand is in your hair, assisting you in bobbing your head up and down her cock just the way she liked it.

she lets out the occasional sigh of satisfaction, cooing at the way you look up at her with tears in your eyes. she thrusts forward until the tip hits the back of your throat.

more tears.

“you look so pretty like this.” she confesses, the hand in your hair moving to cradle your cheek. but she thrusts into your mouth again, throwing her head back at the gurgling sound that leaves you.

forcing you to pull off of her with a pop she guides you to sit on your knees fully before nodding her head and singling for you to turn over.

a small puff of air leaves your lips when you’re flush against the mattress in the new position and you don’t even need her to ask you anything else before you’re rising onto your hands and knees, back arched.

“good girl.” she hisses, her hand coming down hard on your ass cheek.

you gasp, body jolting at the contact. but you can’t help the way you wait for another one. getting off on the sting as long as paige was the one inflicting it.

she’s leaning over your body until her front is pressed against your back and her mouth is right next to your ear.

“i know you like this shit, that’s the only reason why i do it.” she starts, spanking you again before she keeps talking. “i love you enough to fuck you like i hate you.” she kisses your neck. it’s hot, wet. and when she pulls away you already miss the feeling of her lips there.

you whine, pressing your hips back to grind against her. this earns you one final spank, and she laughs this time when your body jerks forward.

when the tip of her is prodding at you, your mouth waters at the familiar feeling.

you choke on a sob when she thrusts forward once, immediately bottoming out. your two previous orgasms made the intrusion painless.

she only pulls back and forces her hips forward twice before her pace picks up, and you have to fight to hold yourself up.

“swallowing this shit whole, damn.”

“i-it feels so good, p! fuck– you’re perfect.” you ramble, just caught up in how deep you could feel her.

“maybe i should take a picture, so you can look back at it later?”

you moan, almost nodding too. not even sure what you could’ve possibly said in response.

“yeah? you like that? need you to remember just how good i fuck you, since you were begging for it so bad.”

her hands are on your hips for leverage and now she’s plowing into you. you feel your tits beneath you with each strike of her hips on your rear.

paige is holding out, but barely. the end of the toy that’s inside of her is the relief she finally needed. each time her hips meet yours her clit throbs a little more.

when you hear how she’s struggling to hold in her own noises you look over your shoulder.

“like what you see?” she pants, words punctuated with a thrust.

“p-paige, i don’t know how much longer i–.” you basically plead, reaching down to fondle your clit with trembling fingers.

“doesn’t matter. take it.”

your head lulls forward, and you almost topple over at the force in which she was fucking you.

when she angles her hips slightly you have to claw at the sheets attempting to pull yourself together. the moan that leaves your mouth is pornographic.

you’re a babbling mess, begging to cum and shaking your head from side to side, knowing it was zero use.

you didn’t want her to stop, so she wasn’t going to.

“am i fucking you dumb, baby?” she groans, throwing her head back when she notices you reaching down to play with your clit.

she can’t tell if you’re nodding or if she’s just fucking you that hard and you can’t stop your head from bobbling, but she loves it.

“i know you’re almost there, c'mon. give it to me.” she says, close enough to the edge herself.

and you don’t need her to say much else before your head is buried into the mattress and you’re crying out for her like she’s not right behind you.

a puddle of spit grows beneath you due to the fact that you can’t keep your mouth closed.

her thrusts slow but they don’t still, and at this point you think you’re gonna pass out.

“pussy’s so pretty, just begging for more and more. no matter how much you swear you’re done.” paige pants, her hands leaving your hips and she pulls out of you before turning you over on your back again.

she uses her strap to slap your clit that’s as swollen as ever.

you try to shut your legs once more but her hands force them open.

then she takes two of her fingers, coating them in the mess leaking from you and brings them to her lips.

your mouth falls open in disbelief, and she winks at you before pulling her fingers from her mouth.

she leans down, and you know she wants you to taste yourself. when her lips meet yours you moan into her mouth, her tongue shoved between your lips immediately.

you feel greedy, sucking on her tongue and you don’t know if you’re trying to taste more of your cum on her lips or just so eager to finally get another kiss from her.

she pulls back from the kiss abruptly with a smack. of course she’s smiling, full of herself. both of you have swollen lips and chins that show with a mixture of saliva and the rest of your release from before.

then she’s sitting beside you, her hands on your legs before she forces you on top of her.

you feel like dead weight but she can handle it.

“gotta give me one more baby, i want you to ride it.” she utters, her voice is low and she’s clearly not asking, but telling you what’s about to happen.

you weakly plant your knees on the sides of her hips, your thighs already burn, your cunt is puffy and still coated with the remnants of a few minutes ago.

“last one, you promise?” you plead, your head so heavy that when you lift it to fully look at her your neck aches.

“promise.” she chuckles, helping you situate yourself over the tip of the strap once more.

you can’t help the way that your hands push her shirt up, revealing her toned abdomen. you tut in disbelief at just how perfect she was, biting your lip.

before you can sink down she places a hand on your hip, stopping you.

you look up at her in a mix of confusion and protest. just as eager for her to be inside of you as she was.

then you watch her lift her head from the mattress, just so that she could remove the infamous hat from her head. only for her to place it on yours.

your cheeks feel hot, and you’re waiting for her to signal you to sink down onto her.

all it takes is a tilt of her chin before you’re lowering yourself slowly, hissing at the feeling and then throwing your head back when you realize just how deep inside you could feel her.

the burn is intense, but it sets your body on fire in a way that is indescribable. you swore you could feel the tip of her strap kissing your ribs.

careful not to let the hat fall off of your head you hold onto it by the brim with one hand, starting to rock your hips.

paige wasn’t going to rush you this time. she just wanted to watch you use her to get off.

“you look–fuck, b-better in it than i do.” she managed to say, stuttering when she felt her puffy clit being shoved against the part of the harness that was currently connecting both of you.

“doubt it.” you groan, already starting to feel that familiar heat in your gut for the fourth time tonight.

paige’s hands are gripping your hips, ensuring that you keep a steady rhythm. her moans were getting louder, breathier, and they mixed with yours to echo off the walls.

you know you’re making a mess on her when you feel your ass getting wetter and wetter everytime it meets the base of her cock.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby. f–fuck, you’re a pro. my pro.”

every bit of praise from her lips is fueling you to bounce faster, and grind your hips down harder.

“my good girl.” she whispers, watching how your eyes squeeze shut. you’re riding her like your life depends on it.

just like she wanted.

“i-i’m close p..i’m so close baby, shit!” you cry, reaching down to grab her hand and place it on your chest. she doesn’t need you to say anything else before she’s tweaking your nipples in each of her hands, reeling in the way your body reacts to such a little thing.

“yeah? cum for me, pretty girl.” she practically begs, knowing that the moment you’re gone, so is she.

those last two words are enough for you. your entire body goes numb, the pleasure coating you from head to toe. you can tell paige is cumming too just from the way that her hands fly back down to your hips and hold you there, ensuring that the end of the toy that’s inside of her continues to press against that spot that both of you know all too well.

you look down to where the two of your bodies meet and you have to look away, knowing that this could go on all night until you were physically unable to move anymore.

you fall forward onto her, not pulling the strap out of you just yet. needing to marinate in all that had just happened.

when you do finally lift your hips until it falls from between your folds, both you and paige are watching as it smacks onto her stomach, your release glistening on her skin.

she has to assist you in laying next to her, but does it nonetheless. you help her in removing the harness from her hips and you toss it off to the side, just wanting to be tangled up with her already.

you feel yourself grinning when she places her arm around you, realizing that the hat was still on your head.

you didn’t dare lift your hand to remove it, and neither did paige. clearly you both had enjoyed it quite a bit, maybe even too much.

regardless of who it was on.

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige x reader #paige x fem reader #wlw smut #wcbb smut #pbpressure🍓#namz🍓

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darkmatilda · 5 months ago

Text

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body.

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued. Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

"JJ!"

"That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

"Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey.

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim.

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

#criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid

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vampyr-ss · 7 months ago

Text

family outing | t. fushiguro

authors note: happy holidays freaks.

summary: toji decides to take his pretty little stepdaughter out for a picnic

pairing: toji fushiguro x stepdaughter!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: smut under the cut + dark content (stepcest) + public sex + spitting + pussy/ass eating + mating press + breeding kink + comparison + dumbification + dacryphilia + ‘daddy’ + creampie + overstimulation + infidelity + praise + degrading + squirting + age gap (15 years) + slut shaming + lmk if i missed anything mwah

others: inspired by these videos: 1 2, unedited

toji never really cared for your mother. she was decent, had a good job and held his attention for long enough. it didn’t take a genius to know you hated her, though. you were hostile whenever you were home and spent most of your time far away from her in the mansion you called home.

you were home for your brief holiday before you began grad school, and toji had failed to keep his eyes off of you from the beginning. when he came home to were laying on a pool chair wearing the tiniest fucking bikini he’s ever seen. you’d barely looked over your sunglasses to greet him. that was the first time he wanted to bend you over, though excitedly not the last.

you barely spoke to anyone while you were home despite your mother pestering you about getting to know toji. they got married while you were out of the country, not that you’d bothered making an effort to see her or him anyway. however, toji was enjoying watching you shift in false discomfort when your mom suggested you two go off and do something together while she works. he watches the way your legs cross and your eyes light up albeit subtly. that’s why he takes the perfect opportunity to smile evenly at your mother.

“we could go out for a picnic. it’ll be an easy way to get along. everyone likes food.” toji’s lips quirk up into something more sinister, but no one seemed to notice but you. you arch an eyebrow at him and glance down at your phone briefly for the time. “it’s almost 4, a little later for lunch don’t you think? plus, it’s getting dark soon.” excuses. toji clicks his tongue in false approval, knowing damn well you’re trying your best not to be alone with him. and you are. because you have no idea what you’ll do if you’re left with him.

“you afraid of the dark, sweetheart?” he snarks easily at you, jutting his chin slightly. you puff air from your nose, rolling your eyes irritatedly at him. oh, how he wished to make them roll differently. “no. i'm worried about the people wandering parks at night.” oh? toji smiles but decides against voicing the nasty thought that ran through his head. “listen, we’ll head out to the park and you can go ahead on to work. don’t worry about us, honey. we’ll get along just fine.” toji’s eyes cut to you briefly as he speaks but most of his words are focused on your mom.

oblivious to the rising tension between you two, she smiles and claps her hands excitedly. “good! good! okay, i really have to go but i love you two. send me pictures and be safe!” she kisses the side of your head (much to your dismay) before kissing toji. she’s out of the door faster then you can blink and you slowly realize exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into. toji watches you carefully before he decides whether he wants to make his next move now or later. your legs are tensing, he can see that because of those tiny fucking shorts you have on. you’re biting down on your lip and scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

he steps closer to the couch and hesitates, looking down at you before resting his hands on your shoulders. “i think you should go get ready,” he purrs, letting his hands slide forward just slightly. you jolt but pretend that you hadn’t, swallowing thickly. “don’t need to stay out late, you know. we don’t know who might be wandering the park at night.” suddenly you hate yourself for speaking earlier but also thank yourself because the chills running down your spine are unimaginable.

"you're right." you murmur in response. "maybe we shouldn't go at all, would be much easier." you side-eye him out of the corner of your eye. toji ignores how you're glaring at him, settling for leaning down to whisper in your ear. "i'm going to put some finger food in one of those cooling bags your mom has. by the time i'm done, you better be down here. understood?" his voice is light, but there's a certain edge to it that makes you sit up straight.

you swallow and turn to face him fully. you've given up on distracting yourself with your phone, your heart is fluttering and your pussy clenching at his tone. "whatever." your voice shakes but you ignore it for the sake of your sanity. toji's jaw clenches but he doesn't work to say much. you finally stand to push past him on the other side of the couch, glancing up at him briefly as you go.

toji felt irritated, but he decided it was all in due time. he'd have his way with you one way or another. and this stupid little date would be perfect. perfect for him to fill your cunt.

that's exactly how you found yourself on your stomach, clawing at the blanket toji had oh-so gently sat down earlier. his strong hands grip the fat of your ass cheeks, spreading them so he can spit on your asshole. you clench subconsciously, whining softly at the foreign feeling. "shut up." toji hisses as he watches the glob of spit slide from your asshole and down your already wet folds.

"you're already showing me this fucking hole in public, you wanna get caught too? fucking slut." his words go straight to your pussy as it clenches around nothing. his tongue slides around the skin near your asshole. he teases you with long slow licks nearing closer and closer to your puckered hole. he wants to ease his fingers inside your ass and threaten to fuck the tight hole, but he needs to know how your cunt feels. he needs to know how tight the pussy you've been teasing him with is.

you dig your face impossibly deeper into the soft blanket underneath you. your fingers are already clenching the blanket and if you moan any louder someone will know exactly what's going on in your little secluded section of the park. toji's ministrations don't cease at your whines. instead, he slips his tongue in your ass while his fingers dig into your ass cheeks to pull them apart further.

"pretty fucking ass." he mumbles, pulling away briefly to admire the slick forming. "you've never had this ass eaten before? tell me, baby." you tilt your head back briefly to attempt to make eye contact with him, but this notion fails when he places harsh smacks on both of your ass cheeks. your back bends as you moan with a shaky hand covering your mouth.

he watches your ass and pussy clench around nothing, begging to be filled. toji traces his fingers along your pussy lips, laughing darkly when your cunt twitches in anticipation. "don't be a slut, baby. wait patiently and i'll give you what you want." the words are ironic coming from him because if it was up to him, he'd have fucked you into the ground by now. however, you looked so fucking good and you deserved to be ruined. so he'd ruin you.

his fingers slowly slide into your cunt, eliciting a loud squish! as they enter you. somehow there's already cum sliding down his fingers and he lets out the harshest scoff. "how long has it been? barely started eating this-" he emphasizes his point by thumbing at your asshole. "fucking hole and the other one 's wet? slutty, slutty baby. should've fucked you sooner."

if you weren't already feeling the effects of toji on you you'd have refuted his claim. he shouldn't have thought of fucking you at all...but you liked it. you wanted your stepdad to take time out of his day, out of his work week to fuck you. you wanted to feel bad and be scared to get caught as he filled you the exact way you needed to be filled. you wanted to sob an cry while his cock stretched you beyond what you’re used to.

toji’s tongue returns to your ass while his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of you. his tongue ignores the resistance of your hole, pushing through to lick sloppily at the inside. every time his tongue slips inside it comes back out with a soft pop!, and the sound mixes with the loud wet noises coming from your poor cunt. toji’s fingers start to pick up the deeper he begins to get in your ass.

toji shifts slightly from behind you, adjusting to he can use his free hand to put his thumb in your ass. he laughs at the way you clench around his fingers. you’re so fucking needy. your pussy sucks his fingers in deeper every time he pulls out to thrust back in. “you always this fucking tight? or you just been waiting for this?” you whine, freeing your hand from your mouth to grip his wrist.

“i haven’t-! no! i’m not like that!” you cry desperately. toji snorts, pulling his thick fingers out of you to watch your reaction. your hips stutter, pausing briefly before shaking back against him to search for that fullness you’d lost. “‘not like that’? this pussy’s hungry for me and i ain’ even fed her properly. do you dream about this?” you shake your head again, parting your lips to argue with him when he shoves his fingers back into you.

you cry out again, softer this time despite your lack of secrecy the second he slipped his fingers into your cunt. toji laughs, kissing up your neck and across your jaw before landing at the corner of your lips. “shhh, baby girl.” he coos, kissing your lips as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you. your moans are swallowed my his hungry lips as they move against yours, sloppy and uncoordinated kisses being exchanged between the two of you. toji’s tongue slides against your lips before finding its way inside your mouth, wrapping around your tongue sloppily. you groan louder when his fingers find that spot deep inside of you, roughly pressing at the soft spot.

your hips twitch erratically at the newfound pleasure of having your g-spot abused. toji pulls away from your mouth, watching the fucked expression on your face as he dug his fingers further in you. he watches the way your eyes water and your lips pout before parting into a ‘o’ shape. you’re so fucking pretty, he really just cannot help himself. “behave and i’ll let you cum the first time.” he purrs sweetly, pressing a kiss to your parted lips.

toji doesn’t give you a real chance to reply. by the time you’ve barely come to your senses to reply, you feel his hot tongue nudging its way back into you. his fingers pump into you in quick, short pumps as his tongue assaults your asshole. he pulls away to spit harshly onto your open hole, chuckling lowly to himself as it winks back at him. you’re overwhelmed. you’ve never had someone pay so much attention to your ass, let alone lick at it like you’re some kind of dessert. you push your ass further into his face, desperate for the feeling to continue.

you start to feel that burning feeling in your tummy, your heart’s pounding and you temporarily forget you’re outside. you’ve forgotten toji’s words about being quiet but you still find yourself covering your mouth. this feels wrong, but it feels so so good. you sob loudly as a third finger slides into your pussy, glancing back at toji who only meets your gaze. you can see the smugness in his face and it does little to nothing to deter your orgasm. your face pinches, thighs tensing as the burning sensation overcomes you. “‘m gonna- oh fuck!”

the noise that leaves your throat is inhuman. you rock forward at the strength of your orgasm as your cunt flutters around toji’s fingers. you thought he’d stop but you can still feel his fingers pumping in and out of you still. toji’s tongue somehow finds itself deeper into your ass as you cum. the sensation renders you speechless, your voice escaping you. “don’t worry baby we’re not done.” toji shifts behind you, sliding his fingers from your drooling cunt. he presses a wet kiss to your asshole before pulling away completely. he spreads his fingers to watch your slick nearly keep them together, thick strings of cum spreading between each finger.

“don’t spent too much time coming down. i still have to fuck this pretty pussy.” he slaps your pussy for emphasis, laughing when you find your voice again to whine at the pain. "no toji. can't" you mumble into the blanket. your chest moves rapidly as you try to gather yourself. despite your protests, your pussy clenches as the cold air hits you with toji moving out of the way. your hips jut much to your annoyance, hips shifting forward and away from imaginary fingers.

"shh, sweet girl. daddy's gonna give ya what ya need." he murmurs, laughing to himself when your asshole clenched. toji teases your pussy, sliding his fat tip up and down your pretty, drenched pussy. he watches as his tip starts to glisten from your slick, the way his cock slides easily against you from how wet you are. he slaps his cock against you one more time before he decides to pull away, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

he slaps your ass with a sense of finality, gripping your hips. "turn over, baby girl. c'mon. don't make me wait." you push up on shaky arms to turn yourself over. somehow, the top of your sundress had stayed up and you were hoping he'd allow you that sense of conservation. knowing toji, though, he wouldn't. and he didn't. the second you turned over his hand was on the top of your dress, pulling it down to free your tits.

toji palms your tits roughly, pulling at your nipples as he ground his cock against you. his eyes flicker over you, the way your lips are parted and drool escapes them. he watches your lashes flutter as you blink in a futile attempt to become more aware. your dress is a little damp from both of your fluids, and your pussy looks so so pretty in this position. he's won the jackpot, he thinks. if only he married this pussy.

"enough. you ready for this, pretty girl?" you grunt harshly under him, glancing up at him to nod. toji slaps his cock against you one more time before beginning to slide into you. his fat tip begins to press into you, forcing a soft sob from your throat. it's an uncomfortable feeling because he's so big. you've been fucked before—plenty of times—but toji's cock is stretching you wide enough for you to be nervous. he'd had you on your stomach so long you hadn't gotten a chance to see how big he was. clearly, he was big enough to split you in half.

"toji..” you pause to frown up at him. “‘s not gonna fit.” he's nearly as thick as a soda can and long enough for you to be concerned. still, you peek at him through your lashes to beg him to stop or slow down. toji only rolls his eyes. "we're gonna make it fit, pretty baby. can you do that f'me? hmmm?" he settles his hands on either side of you, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. your eyes shift over his face, flickering up to his eyes before slowly making their way down to his lips.

if you hadn't gulped already toji would be convinced you were joking. you were questioning the fit but the way you were squeezing him--the way you gushed, toji knew you weren't scared. his hips shift as he pushes further into you. he smashes his lips against yours before you can cry out, quieting your moans and loud pleas. he knows you can take it because you're his good girl. you'd just have to prove it. "tight fucking cunt." he hisses against your mouth, shifting his hips forward once more. "not even halfway and she's tryna bully me out. why 's that, hm? she too shy? can't take this fucking dick?"

you whine against his lips, sniffling softly as tears begin to spill. "no, no! you're too big, toji. i can't- can't take it! please!" your cries fall on deaf ears as toji presses down on your hips to slide further into you. he watches you squirm with a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. your body is warm and the tears that slip from your eyes are scorching. he watches in pure satisfaction as your cunt clenches tightly around him the further he digs into you. "bet this pussy wasn't shy when you were in college." he tuts at you, releasing one side of your hip to spank your clit.

he relishes the way your hips twitch and your back arches. you're so fucking responsive. "remember your mom said you're a sorority girl. how many times were you gettin' fucked in the bathroom? now you wanna tell me 's too big? you're my little slut, baby. you can take it." you're not gonna tell him when you can take it and, frankly, toji doesn't care. his eyebrows twitch in annoyance at your escalating whines. you've come to your senses because you're pushing at his stomach. your eyes are closed in both discomfort and pleasure, and tears are starting to accumulate on the blanket.

"fucked those college boys with no problem but the second a real man tries to take this pussy you wanna cry." he rolls his eyes in pure irritation, gripping your hips tightly so he can finally slam you down on his cock. he groans in relief as your warmth surrounds him fully. his cock twitches inside of you and he already knows he's fucked. you're so fucking wet, so fucking tight. he can't take it. he moves his hands to slide underneath your thighs, pushing them up so that he has more room.

"move...toji please." your voice is so soft he would've missed it if the wind was blowing. your stepdad tuts at you, spreading your legs further to settle between them. "please what? what's my name?" he watches the conflict in your eyes. you're contemplating if you want to give in (as if you hadn't already). your eyes flutter shut before opening again. "please," you pause, a disgusted frown pulling at your lips. "daddy please? fuck me! i need it- need you so bad."

a warm feeling starts to brew in his chest after your little declaration. toji hadn't given a fuck when your mother mentioned she had an adult daughter but now? god was he grateful he met her. he would've never found this pretty pussy on his own. "since you asked so nicely, princess. gonna take it realll good f'me, huh? slutty fucking pussy." he practically purrs his words to you. toji doesn't bother starting slow, immediately starting with pounding in and out of your cunt.

your cunt makes the nastiest, wettest noise as toji's cock slides in and out of you. he's not going nearly as fast as he wants, but your pussy gushes around him nonetheless. your back arches off the ground as his tip kisses your cervix. he keeps hitting deep inside you every time he pulls out halfway just to fuck right back into you. "oh my god.." you murmur. you shift your hips in an attempt to fuck yourself forward as he continues to pound into you.

"oh my fuck- daddy please! harder! need it!" you're practically sobbing for him to fuck you harder. your fingers press weakly against his stomach and you find yourself unable to decide if you really want him to go harder. your pussy feels so full--you feel so fucking full and you feel like you're going to explode. "whatever you say, baby. been so fucking good." toji leans over, pressing your legs back further. his lips attach to yours in the neediest kiss you've ever taken part of. it's sloppy and desperate and it's so fucking good.

your tongue slides against his in near perfection, one of your hands reaching up to grasp at his hair. you pull him closer to you, jutting your hips against his. toji's pounding is incessant, and your cry against his lips. "let go of my legs, toji. i want you to cum in me." you whine against his lips. toji releases your legs reluctantly, letting you wrap them around his waist. he grunts as you push him impossibly deeper inside of you. "fuck i should've met you sooner." his hisses, pressing down on your stomach. "should've married this fucking cunt. could be inside you for days, keep cumming inside of you, get you pregn- oh fuck!"

you press toji inside of you to keep him there. your fingers grasp his hair tightly, forcing his lips to remain against yours. he's groaning despite your attempts to keep the both of you quiet, his hips beginning to stutter and your fingers beginning to twitch. "then fucking do it. fill me up daddy, please." he laughs against you, pulling back to slam back into you. "yeah, baby. knew this fucking pussy would want me. i knew you'd fucking love this." you nod dumbly, muttering incoherently about how you need him.

toji grips your neck as his hips begin to stutter. your pussy tightens around him and flutters as he nudges your g-spot. every time he pulls back he hits it with perfection only to push forward and kiss your cervix. you need him to cum inside you. you need it the same way you need oxygen. you just want to feel the same warmth you've craved since you met him a week ago. he's right, he should've married you. you'd give him what he wants and more. "is this pretty pussy gonna cum for me?" he's whispering so close to you that you can feel the warmth against your wet lips.

you nod hard and fast, squeezing your eyes shut as the knot in your stomach tightens. you move your hips to no real avail. he's fucked you so stupid you can barely match his rhythm. your pussy almost hurts from the stretch and the overstimulation from your first lingering orgasm. you can feel your asshole flutter whilst your pussy attempts to shut around toji's dick. "ohhh i'm gonna- fuckfuckfuck." you sob your words out, nails clawing angrily at toji's back. he doesn't let up, continuing to fuck harshly into your pussy even as he feels spurts hit the bottom of his stomach. he ignores the fact that you've squirted on his dick, fucking you like he needs it.

"this is what i needed from you. knew you weren't a brat. jus' needed to be fucked." he chuckles, though the joke is lost on you. he watches the way your eyes have rolled. your pretty lips are parted, but no sound leaves them. you're done for and he's about to cum so deep in you that he knows it'll take. toji slams his hips forward, his balls slapping against your ass as he finally cums. he glances down to see the white ring of your cream at the base of his dick, now watching his own cum drip down. he can see your pussy twitch and he presses meanly on your clit just to watch you practically howl.

"too much." you murmur, eyes opening just slightly to see his face. toji presses a kiss to your lips, licking at them to let himself in. he gives you one more sloppy kiss, relishing in the after of the harsh orgasms the two of you had. "you did so good." he coos, pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. "good fucking girl. c'mon, we'll go home so you can take a bath." you grunt, blinking your eyes completely open to watch his face. he was looking at you differently. softer. maybe you'd like having a stepdaddy after all.

#dark content #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #stepcest cw #tw pseudocest #tw stepcest #dark smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #smut #fushiguro toji x reader

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logaenhowlett · 8 months ago

Text

TEACH YOU HOW TO GET TO PUREST HELL - L.H.

Summary: On the way to one of his cage fights, Logan's truck begins to break down and that's how he meets you, the owner of a repair shop in Northern Alberta. He promises to pay you with his winnings - but what he ultimately offers is far more interesting.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Fluff, Flirting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex (against the cage), Aftercare, Logan's a snarky motherfucker (but secretly a softie)

A/N: The filthiest 4k I've ever written. I just know he was a menace during his cage fighter era. It's okay though, I'll still be clawing at the enclosure. Title creds to Radiohead. Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Smoke curls around him, bearing a semblance of warmth against the biting wind. Logan's grip on the steering wheel is loose, the other arm draped lazily across the window. He flicks his fingertips ever so often, the ashes of his cigar disappearing into the falling snow. Mile after mile, the same barren landscape stretches before him.

He's lost amidst the silence, having turned the radio all the way down in frustration at the nonsense plaguing the stations earlier. As sunshine glares through the windshield, he scrunches his eyebrows, vaguely entertaining some ideas swirling in his mind.

Hours pass by painfully slow. He tries to ignore the low rumbling that interrupts his flow of thoughts, body firmly protesting against this all-alcohol diet he'd unintentionally adopted. Logan skims a hand into the glove compartment, clicking his tongue when he discovers only a few wrappers lying inside. Slumping back into the seat, he takes another drag, disappointment etching onto his features.

An orange, flashing icon on the dashboard snaps his attention. His eyes dart to the blinking light, a sense of irritation washing over him when he recognises the ‘check engine’ symbol. In a haste, he pulls the truck over, slamming the door shut behind him as he ventures into the cold to inspect the issue. Though he has an extensive knowledge of motorcycles, by no means does that expertise carry over to whatever mess he finds beneath the hood. Logan returns with a sigh, recalling a faded road sign he'd passed ages ago - at least he isn't awfully far from his destination.

In the distance, the town welcome monument brings him some sort of peace. After driving by plenty of dimly lit diners and pubs, he reluctantly asks a stranger for directions to the nearest repair shop. Logan arrives shortly thereafter, parking at the entrance of this seemingly empty building. Curious, he scans the place, sliding out of his seat in search of anyone.

The distinct ring of metal hitting the floor has him spinning around. He fights back the amused huff at the sight of you, bottom lip slightly caught between his teeth in an attempt to stop the smirk threatening to break free. His eyes rake over your figure as you come closer - appreciating the way your overalls perfectly capture the slopes and curves of your body - before finally, rising to meet your unimpressed expression.

"What're you here for?"

There's a smidge of annoyance in your words, a reaction he very much enjoys being the reason for. He nods towards the truck parked out front, "Problem with the engine."

When you brush past him, Logan spots a name neatly embroidered onto your otherwise soiled clothes. Smiling, he follows after you, shamelessly dropping his gaze to your ass for a moment.

Waiting patiently while you poke around the hood, he steals glances at your profile, filled with the sudden urge to wipe away the grease stain remnants off your cheeks, "Yeah... looks like the head gasket needs replacing."

Logan groans to himself before agreeing with your judgment. He runs a hand across his face, stilling in brief confusion when you chuckle quietly.

"Somethin' funny?" He asks, noting how you browse the insides of his camper with a flair of barely-masked mockery.

"Just admiring the interior design."

That one almost draws a scoff out of him. Logan knows his living quarters are rather bare-bones in nature, at best, providing decent shelter for when he's on the go. Inside, a makeshift bed large enough for a man of his size and basic kitchen appliances - though he rarely uses those. It's all he cares for anyway, yet there's a tinge of self-consciousness he shakes before gruffly responding, "You can do it by tonight?"

"Tonight?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Fine... but it's gonna set you back about three grand."

"I got half for now."

A sharp laugh pierces his ears. And even though it's undoubtedly fake, he thinks you look pretty like this - shooting what can't be anything less than a deadly glare just for him. The corners of his lips tilt up when your tone suddenly becomes stern, "That's not how it works, buddy."

"Listen, I got a fight later, I'll be good for it."

"What? You that sure you're gonna win?"

You're teasing him. You know it, and so does he. Logan studies the way your hand rests against your hip, a challenging glint behind your eyes while you consider this ridiculous suggestion. He moves one step closer and proudly welcomes the surge of satisfaction at the slight crack of your demeanour.

"Darlin', I always win." It's a whisper that leaves him, hushed and dangerously low. Giving your shoulder a playful nudge as he walks by, he circles to the trailer behind the truck, retrieving his motorcycle. He smirks, pleased to witness such a glimpse of weakness, "Eleven-thirty. O'Malley's. I'll see you there."

The engine revs with each twist of his wrist, the movement so precise and natural. As he sinks onto the bike, the suspension adjusting to his weight, he sends you a wink.

"And if you lose?" You shout over the blaring sounds.

With one final grin, "Just fix my truck, alright."

Even from outside, O'Malley's is deafeningly loud. The wooden door creaks lightly with the gentlest push, and a mixture of overly enthusiastic yells paired with the clashing of glass greet your presence. You're no regular here whatsoever, but the fights that occur in this bar are usually the talk of the town. And despite its reputation, you've never had much interest in being surrounded by a crowd of angry, intoxicated men - all drowning beneath the crude insults and empty threats tossed into the air.

Some of the patrons, customers you recognise from work, acknowledge you with a polite smile while you settle into a booth near the cage. As you observe the utter chaos around the room, it only cements your distaste for this so-called form of entertainment. The current match's loser staggers past your table, barely walking on two feet even with the support of his friends.

All you can think about is returning home with your hard-earned cash. It was a rather tiring day, running around salvage yards scouring for spare parts to tend to the old piece of junk he'd called a truck. Not to mention the unforgiving weather, which seemed determined to make your day more miserable. And to top it all off, the jerk wanted it done by nightfall - the audacity! Just the simple reminder of today's events has your body tensing from restlessness.

Behind you, a group of men sneer amongst themselves and between their slurring, the words "pretty boy" and "his ass kicked" grasp your attention. Turning around, you watch as they hand over money to some younger fella, taunting others to join the bet. Oh, that makes your blood boil. This Logan had strolled into your shop with nothing but a superficial promise for your services, and now, he's presumed to lose?

You stand up abruptly, peering across the space in search of him. A rush of fury courses through you at the same time you spot him casually lounging in the corner. As you approach, the faint glow of the bulb illuminates his face, a cloud of smoke momentarily hiding the smirk playing on his lips. His chuckle cuts through the hum of the jukebox he's leaning on, eyes crinkling with a kind of smugness at your arrival.

"You're joking." The bottle of whiskey between his fingers shocks you the most, "Are you seriously getting drunk before your fight?"

Logan grins at your concerned expression, eyes tracing you up and down, "You fix it?"

"Yes, I fucking fixed it. Took me all day!" Fists clenching, you stare at him intently, "Look, I did my job - you better do yours."

"Don't worry 'bout it, darlin'. I'm a man of my word." He dismisses you completely, taking a prolonged swig of his drink. A beat passes before he lazily holds up two fingers right to your face, "Scout's honour."

He laughs again when you roughly shove his hand aside, not sparing another second for this cocksure attitude. You grumble under your breath, making your way back to the booth, "It's three fingers, asshole."

A few matches take place over the next hour, and you're only getting more antsy as each of the competitors exits the cage with nothing short of bloody faces and broken bones. The audience roars all of a sudden, some even rattling the fence as this new person strides into the threshold.

Of course, he'd stripped his shirt off and the sight of his muscle-toned chest only serves to further fuel your irritation. Logan's eyes find yours immediately, looking past the crowd of hecklers now whistling at him. With a nod, he throws you a confident smirk and turns to his rival.

The man he's up against is much more burly and has a couple of inches on him. Though that doesn't seem to faze Logan in the slightest, instead he's flexing his arms almost playfully before adopting a fighting stance. Every punch and kick has you twitching in your seat, your feet firmly stuck to the ground in anticipation.

Remembering how he'd chugged an entire bottle of liquor earlier, you're astonished by the ferocity with which he attacks his opponent, dodging most moves with deadly precision. As he lands more jabs, the spectators begin to jeer and boo, swarming the enclosure of the cage in a tantrum. You peek over their shoulders, ducking away from the things they're flinging around. There's a collective gasp when he knocks out the other man, and you sigh in relief.

Leaning towards the cage, a cigar lightly pressed against his mouth, Logan's focus shifts to you. His chest is heaving from all the physical exertion, skin damp from the sweat. As he exhales the smoke, blowing a kiss in your direction, a satisfied expression returns to his face. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving the arena with no regard for the protesting crowd.

You follow after him, squeezing through the tightly packed space. He's settling a score with the owner, a wad of rolled cash passing between them as a reward. After a nod of mutual agreement, Logan faces you, tossing his leather jacket on. And while you're ultimately happy he won, there's also this urge to smack the cheeky look that seems to be glowing as you come closer.

What's more upsetting is the fact that he is undeniably gorgeous - especially like this, all sweaty and wound up from the adrenaline rushing inside. And of course, he doesn't miss how your gaze wanders to the sliver of skin peeking through his jacket, every slight movement only revealing more.

Logan grabs a few bills from the roll of money and stuffs them into his back pocket, holding the rest out towards you. As you reach for the cash, he swiftly draws his hand back with a teasing smile, "Have a drink with me."

"No."

"C'mon." He drags out, repeating the same thing when you try again, "No one needs their cute, little mechanic right now."

Watching you sigh triggers a thrill of excitement, an unspoken victory he claims with no shame. With a simple gesture, he leads you towards a secluded booth, determined to make this a worthwhile exchange. Despite your hesitation, he maintains a sort of relaxed energy, draping his arm along the seat - his eyes not straying from yours.

Two shots of vodka are placed on the table and Logan mirrors your action, slowly raising the glass to his lips. In no time, the air of unease dissipates, replaced by a comfortable silence while the drinks keep coming. As the night wears on, casual conversation flows between you and he asks a few things like how long you've lived here, why you became a mechanic and eventually, when he slides you the money, "What now, darlin'? You gonna leave?"

His voice, dripping with honeyed sweetness, sends a shiver down your spine. You can't exactly place the feeling, but it's a tangle of exasperation and something else - something you're not quite ready to define. Instead, you blame it on the drinks, the late hour, and the fact that there's an incredibly attractive man just inches away.

As frustration envelops your thoughts, you suddenly excuse yourself and head towards the bathroom. The alcohol, previously a gentle companion, now seems to be taking its toll. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you try to fight against the sensations running through your body. The splash of cold water does little to your state of mind, yet you're back outside in what feels like a tilted world, using all your strength to walk straight.

As you brush past the cage, someone collides into you. Desperate for balance, you reach out to grip the fence, but a strong hand lays steady on your lower back. With a gasp and a tilt of your head, you're caught off-guard when Logan comes into your view. His arm snakes around to gently hold your waist, his body now pressing into yours.

Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you tear your attention away from him and glance at the wire pricking your fingers, "This is fucking sharp."

He doesn't break the eye contact. A low hum vibrates through his chest as he leans in, the warmth of his breath dancing with yours. The space between you slowly shrinks, whatever lighthearted facade he'd worn earlier vanishes only to be replaced by something raw and inexplicable.

"How're you not bruised?" You whisper, remembering the way he'd been thrown against the cage earlier.

"Call it a special talent."

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself captivated by him, the intensity of his gaze reeling you in. And so, you decide to play his game, "Can you teach me?"

Logan pauses, "You wanna learn... how to fight?"

"Just a little punch or something."

A faint smile spreads across his face, you're absolutely sure he can feel the way your heart is pounding. When his lips lightly brush against your ear, a quiet rumble escapes and something flickers in your gut - a twist of exhilaration laced with a hint of caution.

There's barely anyone left in the bar at this point besides the one or two stragglers hanging around. Logan and you stand alone in the cage, seemingly tucked away in a little pocket of your own. He doesn't wander too far, remaining within an arm's distance while demonstrating the proper technique for a jab - the motion so fluid and effortless.

Your initial attempts to mimic his movements are clumsy and awkward, his amusement only growing more evident with each try. Slipping behind you, he sheds the jacket, once again exposing his glorious muscles and the thought of tracing his vein-riddled biceps with your tongue leaves you dazed for a moment. This time, he circles his arms around you and guides your hands into the correct position.

As you practice, your bodies nudge against each other, his breath fans across your neck and ignites a fire within you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with implicit desire. You can almost feel his gaze burning into you, every second posing a challenge to cross this imaginary line.

The rest of the patrons are ushered out the door, the owner nodding at Logan before disappearing into the back room. And the silence settles in, a stark contrast to all the commotion that lingered for hours prior. You notice the difference, inching towards the exit, "Looks like they're closing up."

Before you can move away, Logan's hand shoots out to catch your wrist, "And we got it all to ourselves."

"What?"

"Might've slipped the owner a little somethin’."

His fingers trail up your arm, thumb gently pushing your soft skin. Slowly, he brings you closer, his words just a whisper of heat on your cheek. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm echoing your own racing heart. Your voice, hoarse and strained, barely manages a response, "Is this how you budget? No wonder you're broke."

It's his laughter that breaks you at first, followed by, "You got a smart mouth, darlin'. Tell me, what else can it do?"

His lips hover mere inches above yours, there's a moment of hesitation hanging in the air - an out, if you don't want this. But, temptation is a dangerous siren and you're already ensnared by her song.

Fuck it.

Logan's dog tags hang pretty between the slopes of your breasts, his mouth moving against yours in a rough, demanding fashion. It's sloppy. It's wet. And it's goddamn heavenly when his fingers thread through your hair, the gap between you now completely erased. You cling to him as if he's an anchor, nails digging into his shoulders while he pins you to the cool metal of the cage.

He wants to touch you. To feel the warmth radiating straight off your body. The straps of your overalls fall from his force, he takes the opportunity to slide one hand through the side, kneading your waist with a kind of tenderness that surprises him too. When you take a second to breathe, Logan peppers kisses along your jawline, then some beneath your ear before grazing his lips on your neck.

The pulsing vein he finds nearly has him growling in pleasure, "Fuck, darlin'... feel so good already... can't wait to taste you when I'm done..."

He stills when you gasp, glancing up through his lashes and then quietly chuckling at your flustered expression. Yet, he can't revel in his victory for any longer than a blink, your palm tilts his head back before you fiercely capture his mouth once more.

His name rolls out your lips, drawn out and glazed with an obvious need. Taking a deep inhale, Logan feels the bulge in his jeans growing with each passing moment. You're only getting restless as his hands roam over your body, becoming nothing more than a whimpering mess all from his doing.

"Lemme hear you for real, baby... don't be shy." His fingers latch onto the cage, using it to thrust forward and deepen the kiss. Your clothes end up pooling at your feet, the barriers between you peeling away with every layer gone. Now, skin to skin, sweat glistening on your brow, you're left bare and vulnerable to his touch.

Logan reaches down, spreading your thighs wide enough till he can push your panties aside, stroking the outside of your entrance. Clenching his jaw when he's met with a distinct wetness, "Hidin' all this for me?" He almost laughs at how you curl forward and then whine his name, craving for any part of him to be inside you, "Hm... what'd you say to me before? Three fingers?

With no warning, he slides exactly three inside your cunt, pumping in and out as best as he can, "So fuckin' tight, darlin'... c'mon... show me you're ready for the real thing." He knows he's doing something right when you squirm at his actions, jumping at the invitation to delicately flick your clit before sinking his fingers back into you.

"Logan-"

Pain consumes you as he continues, tears springing to your eyes. You've never felt pleasure like this, so intense and so profound, words lost amongst the moans trembling out your lips. Your knees begin to shake under the pressure, and his free hand immediately cups your thigh, securing your body to his. As you call out for him, urging him to fuck you senseless, he tugs his fingers away.

The belt flies, jeans tossed behind in an instant and he grunts, freeing his hard length from his boxers. The tip of his cock teases your folds, the precum slicking down from the head. His nose presses against your cheek when your hand runs up and down - getting him all nice and ready. Breath hitching at the sensation, Logan involuntarily bucks his hips, your eagerness carrying him over the edge.

He's careless about lining himself up, giving it no more than a fleeting thought before thrusting into you. Whatever floods your brain at that moment is much more potent than anything you've ever experienced. It's vigorous, almost animalistic in nature, how hard he fucks you. The veins on his arms become more apparent as he hoists you up, pushing you against the cage. He can hear the little fibers of your skin tearing because of the friction, yet he does little to ease that pain, knowing you're enjoying the hurricane of emotions whisking you away.

Logan pants into your tits, nipping at the soft flesh, "Wanted to ruin that pussy since I saw you this mornin'... all dirty and pissed off at me - god. Thought 'bout somethin' else on your face too."

"Logan - don't... fucking stop. Feels amazing... wanna feel all of you." The words escape you - laboured and breathless - your eyes soften in delight, watching this sort of enraptured expression wash across his face, "So good for me, Logan."

So good.

For me.

And boy, if that doesn't spur him on.

Picking up speed, his movements turn greedy, grinding into you with a degree of passion he's never felt before. As you tug his hair, fingers raking through the dark tresses in a frenzy, Logan taps into the primal energy swelling within. His hands squeeze you further, your thighs constricting his waist as he drives up into you, "That's it baby... fuckin' perfect. Takin' all of me like a good girl... mhmm."

The way your body helplessly arches has him grinning, but that quickly gets swept away when his cock twitches inside you, aching to burst at any given moment. He tries his hardest to control himself, longing for your cries of pleasure as you finish. Thrusts weakening to a leisurely pace, Logan grunts into your neck, mumbling a string of curses while he rides out this wave. Thankfully, you're on the precipice as well, your body reaching its peak with a shiver.

His cum trickles out of you, thighs getting sticky as it seeps lower and lower. Lost in a daze, Logan thinks he can see the damn sun in your eyes. With a gentle swipe of your cunt, he sheepishly licks his own fingertips, a smile brightening his face.

The mattress, once a source of great discomfort, now feels like paradise as you cuddle into the crook of his neck, the soft rhythm of your breath soothing him to a state of peace. He'd carried you to his truck earlier, threatening you with a barrage of kisses when you dangled his keys in front of him. There was a rather short game of tag before you relented and collapsed into his embrace, tiredly blinking up at him. He'd tucked the loose strands of your hair back then tenderly caressed your cheek. It took all but one affectionate grin to convince you to spend the night in his camper.

Not a single inch of your body is free from his touch. He pulls you even closer, tracing patterns around the tiny scratches spreading across your shoulders. If you'd asked him yesterday, he would tell you he has no plans of sticking around this town, grown used to a life of impermanence. Yet, as he rests, tangled in your arms, Logan finds a reason to stay.

1K notes · View notes

grapejuicenharry · 9 months ago

Text

Angel

Harry and Y/N are best friends— except they have feelings for each other (4k words)

warnings : smut 18+, fluff, kissing, grinding, jealous h

read part 2 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry really liked—no, loved—Y/N, but he would never admit it to her. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine a day without her. She was like sunshine in his life, someone he could always rely on.

“Harry, my feet hurt,” Y/N whined beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from one too many drinks. They were walking back from a party thrown by one of Harry’s friends, Alex. It was his birthday, and even though Harry and Y/N hadn’t planned to attend, today had been their last exam of the semester. That called for celebratory drinks after all the hard work they’d put in. Sleepless, stressful nights spent preparing for exams, completing assignments, and submitting papers—it had all been overwhelming, and tonight felt like the ideal way to finally blow off some steam.

“Didn’t I warn you about those heels?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow. He knew those heels always gave her trouble and told her to wear something more comfortable, but Y/N, being Y/N, never listened.

“Yeah, but they make me look sexy, and I wanted to be tall enough to at least reach your neck,” she replied absentmindedly.

“Well, guess that means I’m carrying you the rest of the way,” Harry said, and before she could protest, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

“Harry, my dress is too short! I’m going to flash everyone,” Y/N laughed, though there was no real concern in her voice.

Harry chuckled, placing his hand carefully to keep her covered. Besides, the streets were almost empty at 2 a.m., and there was hardly anyone around to notice.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N met Harry on the first day of college. She was nervous and eager to make friends. Hurrying to her seat, she noticed Harry sitting next to her. The first thing she saw was his mop of curly hair, and she thought he was incredibly cute. He looked so innocent and nerdy in his black-rimmed glasses. He was just too adorable.

He wore a white T-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps, with tattoos peeking through. Suddenly, Y/N found herself wanting to see every tattoo that adorned his beautiful body. She was so curious and lost in her thoughts about him that she didn’t realize Harry was, in fact, looking at her.

Harry thought he was dreaming as he looked at Y/N. She seemed like an angel, a beautiful one at that. She wore a cute white hoodie adorned with pink bows, and her curly hair framed her lovely face perfectly. What captivated him the most were her eyes; they were alluring, radiant, and a luminous shade of dark brown. Next were her luscious pink lips, so full and plump that he suddenly wanted to kiss them and taste them. He wondered if they tasted like berries or cherries, secretly hoping they tasted like cherries, his favorite fruit.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Y/N asked in a hushed voice. “I forgot to bring my pouch,” she added with a little pout.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, fixing his glasses, clearing his throat, and answering in a hoarse voice. He couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Later that day, they sat together at lunch, talking as if hours had passed. Y/N was so grateful to have found someone as kind as Harry, who listened to every word she said with such intent. They chatted about random topics, like their favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors. When Harry revealed that his favorite flavor was mint chocolate chip, Y/N made a weird face.

“Shut up—no, don’t you dare say it!” Harry exclaimed, amused.

“But it tastes like toothpaste!” Y/N whined playfully.

“No, it does not!” Harry shot back. Y/N made a mental note to convince Harry to try every other flavor until he grew to hate mint chocolate chip.

They soon became inseparable—best friends. Harry didn’t realize just how much he had started to like Y/N until it was almost too late. He thought frequently about confessing his true feelings, but there never seemed to be the right moment. He cherished the friendship they had, and the thought of losing her terrified him to his core. So he kept those feelings hidden, bottled up, and accepted her as his best friend.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry set Y/N down on the couch when they reached her apartment. He kneeled down to take off her heels. “Ouch, slowly please,” YN whined.

“I am never letting you wear these stupid shoes again. Your feet are all red and swollen,” Harry countered, looking genuinely concerned. He hated seeing Y/N in pain. He wanted to protect her from everything and keep her safe in his cocoon—just him and Y/N.

He then carefully carried a sleepy Y/N to her bedroom and started looking for a comfortable shirt for her to wear. After finding a suitable shirt, he went to the bathroom to grab her makeup wipes and returned to find half-asleep Y/N lying on the bed. “Sweetheart, this will only take two minutes, I promise.” He began wiping her face gently.

After getting Y/N all ready for bed, Harry changed his own clothes. Y/N had “borrowed” too many of his shirts, but honestly, he never minded it. In fact, he secretly liked when Y/N wore his clothes. She looked breathtaking in his oversized shirt paired with her tiny shorts, which made Harry lose his mind.

“Come to bed and cuddle me; I need to sleep,” Y/N grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Coming, sweetheart, just two minutes,” Harry replied with a smile. He knew how grumpy Y/N got when she was sleepy. He quickly climbed into bed, set his glasses on the side table, and pulled her to his side. Cuddled next to him, Harry didn’t mind being the big spoon. He loved having Y/N molded to his side—the sweet scent of her hair, which smelled like strawberries on a sunny day, and the soft skin that felt like vanilla sundae. He adored every inch of her. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything around him was rainbows and sunshine; she made everything look like it was through rose-tinted glasses.

But Harry also loved being the little spoon. There were days when he just wanted to be held, and honestly, Y/N loved having him like that—clingy, needy, like a cute little puppy.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

One day, Harry arrived at Y/N’s apartment looking extremely worn out. Y/N was lying on the bed, comfortably engrossed in her favorite novel. She grew concerned upon seeing Harry.

“I am so exhausted, and my head hurts,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his bag on the floor. “I had to sit in Professor Martin’s class for two hours, plus I had a psychology presentation today,” he stated tiredly while rubbing his drowsy eyes behind his frames.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry you had such a long day, baby. Come on, lie down, and I’ll massage your head,” Y/N replied, removing the blanket from her lap. Harry immediately climbed onto the bed and dropped his head in Y/N’s lap. She carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the side table before starting to massage his head.

She threaded her fingers in his curls, scratching his head lightly, rubbing, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Harry let out a soft moan as he could already feel the tension melting away, his body instinctively relaxing further into her lap.

“Feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against her legs.

As her skilled fingers glided over his scalp, working their magic and easing the stress that had built up after a long week.

Y/N smiled, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. She varied her movements, alternating between gentle rubs and firmer pressure, focusing on the areas where he seemed to carry the most stress. Her fingers danced through his hair, and she leaned forward slightly to whisper, “You deserve this. Just relax.”

After what seemed like hours of massaging, Y/N realized Harry had fallen soundly asleep on her lap. His face looked peaceful, with his eyes closed and soft snores slipping through his pretty pouty lips. He looked so adorable, and Y/N couldn’t help but wish she could freeze time to savor this moment longer.

Knowing Harry would probably complain about his back in the morning, she gently shifted him, lifting his head from her lap and placing it on a pillow. His brows furrowed slightly, so she soothingly rubbed his forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering tension. Half asleep, Harry instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and nuzzling his face against her boobs. His personal pillow: He always has the best sleep whenever she holds him. Y/N smiled down at him. His curls tickled her jaw, and she couldn't resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his head.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Y/N whispered, smiling at Harry, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was never the jealous type—at least, not until Y/N came into his life. but right now he cant help but a bitter sensation rises up his throat when he sees yn with Jacob. A total douchebag who flirts with every girl in the college, Standing next to Y/N, too closely according to harry. Harry had come to find Y/N so they could grab tacos at their favorite spot, but instead, he’s witnessing this. Does Y/N like him? Does she have a crush on him that he doesn’t know about? What if Y/N is interested in him and wants to end her friendship with Harry? Will she forget about him? All these questions overwhelm Harry’s mind at the sight. No, no—Y/N was only his. His best friend, his angel, his sweetheart. She would never do something like this. His chest suddenly started burning at such thoughts.

Jacob says something which makes Y/N burst into laughter. His chest tightens at the sight. He wants to be the only person to make yn laugh like that. He curses inwardly that jacob gets to experience the sweet melody of her laughter, her laugh that can instantly brighten up the room with warmth and sunshine. He thinks to himself, Does Jacob know her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs? or how the mole under her right eye disappears when she laughs because of the fullness of her cheeks?

“Oi, whatchu looking at?” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face. He hadn’t realized she had come over and was talking to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” she teased, giggling as she spoke to him.

“Was that Jacob talking to you?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual even though he was fuming inside. “Yeah, he wanted my chemistry notes because apparently he spilled coffee on his,” Y/N replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's as they walked together.

“Did you give them to him?” Harry asked, mentally cursing Jacob and hoping she hadn’t.

“No, obviously I know he just wanted an excuse to hit on me. I’m not dumb,” Y/N exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you know I don’t like sharing my notes with anyone except for you, because you know how to take care of them.” She chided and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His face instantly heated.

“Good,” Harry whispered quietly, fixing his glasses, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to hide the blush of his cheek and unable to suppress a smile at the thought of Y/N rejecting that jerk.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry loves when Y/N gets touchy like this with him. When randomly she hugs him, kisses him on his cheek, forehead, or settles on his lap while watching a movie. Her spontaneous kisses leave a soft tingle on his skin, and he can’t help but smile every time she curls up in his lap. It’s in these moments he feels closest to her, as if every touch and every kiss is a silent confession of how much she means to him. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her in a little tighter, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against him. The movie on the screen fades into the background; all he can focus on is the warmth of her body and the way she makes him feel—like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. It all feels so natural. And they never have those awkward moments because they both love these touches. Whenever yn touches him, he feels electricity buzzing through him, in a good way. His skin feels like jello and his heart is thumping loudly, His brain is all muddled with goo and sparkles.

He wants to treasure those moments forever and constantly wishes for more and more.

It was one of those rare evenings for Harry and Y/N, Where the world seemed to quiet down just for them. They had just finished with their midterms and needed this for the longest time. Dim yellow lights, a bottle of red wine sitting on the table, a soft record player playing in the background. Legs tangled under the blanket as Harry and Y/N sat closer to each other, just enjoying each other’s presence. The warmth of Yn’s body pressed against him felt like home.

Harry’s fingers absentmindedly played with a strand of Y/N’s hair, twirling it between his fingertips. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail — the curve of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Harry whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile and cheeks already flushed because of wine, changed into a deeper shade of red at his words. “You always say that.” Slurred her words lightly.

“Because it’s true,” he murmured, leaning in closer, their faces just inches apart. His fingers gently tugging at her bottom lip, eyes flickering to her mouth. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. Y/N felt her heart race as Harry’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than just affection.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Y/N tilted her head, her lips brushing against Harry’s in the softest kiss, testing the waters. It was brief- just a featherlight kiss- but enough to send a shockwave through him. Harry let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and tender. As he leaned in closer, Y/N gently pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, making it easier for them to get lost in each other. Suddenly, he realized what he had done.

Harry pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with surprise at his own action.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his voice panicked. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing, but there was no trace of anger or discomfort on her face. Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth blooming in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. “No, Harry… It’s okay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“Harry,” Y/N interrupted gently, her voice barely a whisper as she moved closer, her hand resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, I want this, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t quite grasp what was happening—it all felt too surreal, like something straight out of his dreams. Yet, here it was, playing out in real time. In the blink of an eye, Y/N tossed the blanket aside and straddled his lap. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she pressed closer to him, wanting to be as near as possible. Her fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt, before cradling his face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Harry was still trying to make sense of it all, but instinctively, his hands found their place—one tangling in her hair, the other resting gently on her neck.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips were soft, and she could taste the faint hint of wine on them. Their lips molded perfectly, like it was meant to be. Time seemed to blur. It must have been five minutes, or five hours; neither of them knew. It was a heated blend of tongue, teeth, and lips.

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it. Harry pulled back, catching his breath, resting his forehead against hers. His heart pounded, blood rushing south; he was so hard, making him ache beneath her.

“Can I take off your top, baby?” He whispered, his breath warm against her jaw as he kissed and nipped at it.

“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured, and that was all the permission Harry needed. He swiftly pulled off her shirt—his shirt—and eagerly ran his hands over her smooth, soft skin.

“So soft, your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his hands working behind her, unclasping her bra.

Her tits were a piece of art—Round, so full and perfectly perky. His large hands cup them, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers.

Now she sat only straddling him in her thin, barely there sleeping shorts; she could feel his hard cock beneath her, thick and throbbing, nudging her entrance. Her dampness was seeping through both of their shorts. A delicious remainder, how much she wanted him. He could feel her cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him.

Harry had to shut his eyes and take a few steady breaths as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward, prepping light kisses along the curve of her breast. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back, giving him more access to her boobs. He latched onto her nipple, sucking lightly, while his free hand teased her other breast, tugging and rolling the sensitive nub. Y/N hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, writhing on his cock couldn’t help but start grinding, writhing on his lap.

"Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed as she gently took his glasses from his head and placed them on the couch next to them, her fingers threaded through his messy curls. His cock twitched beneath her, nudging her clit, and she could feel her body growing even wetter, soaking through the fabric that separated them. Harry kept switching between her breasts, his mouth worshipping each one as he sucked harder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

Making her more drenched

“Just like that, ride me Y/N” Harry growled, his voice low and demanding. His hands slid from her breast to her waist, guiding her movements. Making her move forward and backward, her clothed, dripping core dragged across his cock, making them both shiver with need. His tattoos peeked through as he finally tugged his shirt off, revealing his inked chest - abs flexing under the butterfly, the black ink stark against his flushed, heated skin.

Y/N's fingers trailed down, dragging her nails across his chest, loving the way his tattoos twisted beneath her touch. She leaned down, biting his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Harry groaned, loving the possessiveness of it—her mark on him. He was hers.

“You’re doing so good, Angel” he murmured, nipping her ear. Harry was a complete mess beneath her. His eyes glossy, pupils blown away with lust, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips slick and swollen from their kisses. He looks so sexy, Y/N leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, swallowing each other’s moans while increasing her pace.

He could not believe Y/N was on top of him, grinding against his cock, her sweet little moans filling the air. He was sure he’d reached heaven. He glanced down between them, seeing the wet patch her arousal had left on his shorts, mixed with his own pre cum.

As Y/N ground herself against him, her clit dragged over the thick length of his cock, and each upward motion had his tip grazing her entrance. The feeling made them both shiver. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut in bliss, her lip caught between her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper.

Harry slid his hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow, tight circles, giving her that extra bit of pleasure she craved. “I want you to feel good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers working faster, determined to push her over the edge. His angel deserved to feel good.

Y/N threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. “I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered meekly, her voice shaking. Harry quickened his pace, his fingers pressing into her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and desperate.

Y/N cries out as her orgasm rips through her, the coil in her belly finally exploding, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like she was floating—fireworks and butterflies all at once.

She has never cum so hard in her life. Her fingers never did the job, and vibrators were too boring for her.

Below her, she feels Harry twitching. He buries his face in her neck, biting down a patch of her skin to stifle his own moan as he reached the brink. Both arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes shut, loud and desperate whimpers falling from his lips.

“That’s it, honey,” Y/N cooed, her voice soft and soothing, threading her fingers through his damp curls as she continued to ride him. She could feel him shaking beneath her as his orgasm finally hit, releasing with a loud groan as his body went rigid. His vision blurred, ears ringing, as the bliss overwhelmed him completely. He felt like he was in paradise, his body melting into hers.

For a moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts beating in sync, both of them coming down from their highs. Still trying to make sense of what just happened. Harry let out a breathy laugh, looking for his glasses and placing them again on his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, still catching his breath.

Y/N smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, loving how warm he felt under her touch. “And you’re a mess,” she teased softly, laughing with him. Harry grinned, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but I’m your mess," he murmured, kissing her softly, the intimacy between them palpable.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle kisses. “I want this with you, Y/N” Harry whispered, “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something for you. That I don’t feel this whenever I’m around you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Harry pressed on, the confession spilling out of him like a flood. “I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. The most important person in my life, and I was terrified of messing that up. But tonight... it just felt right. It always felt right with you.”

The air hung heavy between them, the weight of his confession pulling her down, making her chest tighten. Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had always felt something too—always pushed it aside, too afraid of what it would mean for them and for their friendship. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t run from it anymore.

Harry’s eyes softened behind his glasses, his heart racing a mile a minute. He had finally said it—the words he never thought he’d be able to voice, yet they spilled out of him because he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He had to tell Y/N everything.

But he still didn’t know if she felt the same, if she liked—no, loved—him back. And though the thought of her rejecting him terrified him, he was ready for it. His heart would shatter into a million pieces, but he would respect her decision, even if it meant she wanted him out of her life completely. It would hurt—of course, it would—but the idea of staying by her side and making her uncomfortable hurt even more.

He braced himself for her response, never expecting what she would say next.

“I love you, Harry. I think I’ve loved you for a long time... but I was too much of a coward to confess it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “All this time, I didn’t want to lose you, so I just... ignored it. But tonight? It meant everything. I want this with you too.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear.

“I always thought you had a thing for Emma from our sociology class,” Y/N added with a teary giggle, realizing how silly it sounded now.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Emma? He had never thought of her as more than a classmate. His friends had mentioned once or twice that Emma might have a crush on him, but he’d never taken it seriously. His focus had always been on Y/N.

Before he could explain, Y/N cut him off. “But now I get it—you don’t like her. It was probably just my insecurities talking,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Baby, Y/N, look at me,” Harry gently commanded. “I had no idea you were worrying about all of this. Emma? I’ve probably spoken to her five times at most, and I don’t like her that way at all. You have nothing to be insecure about.” He cupped her jaw tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, my angel. The only girl I love and care about.”

Harry's thumb continued to stroke Y/N's cheek gently, his eyes soft and unwavering as he held her gaze. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’ve never even thought about anyone else the way I think about you. It’s always been you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the insecurity that had weighed her down for so long now starting to lift. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry wasn’t finished. His other hand slid down to cradle her waist, pulling her more closer if that was possible. They were basically molded together.

“I love the way you say my name; I love how you play with my rings whenever you get nervous; I love the way you get excited over little things; I love the way you get grumpy whenever you are hungry; I love the way you look at me when you think I am not paying attention. And I love you; don’t ever want you to doubt that, okay?”

Y/N felt warmth flood her chest as his words washed over her. She’d spent so long overthinking everything, never realizing that Harry had been feeling the same all along.

She blinked back the last of her tears, smiling up at him. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of emotion.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. “Because you care so much,” he murmured against her skin. “And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. the tension in her body melting away.

Harry resting his chin on the top of her head. “But now, no more hiding, yeah? No more overthinking or doubting. It’s just us now. I’m yours, and I’ve always been.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him, her smile widening as her fingers laced through his. “Just us,” she repeated softly.

Harry’s heart swelled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice a gentle promise.

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nerdlvr · 7 months ago

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✩ goons and ghosts.

(MDNI)

smut with sorta plot, 4k+ words , ghost jisung x gooner reader , riding , cowgirl and dogstyle positions , peeping tom jisung , female and male masturbation , dick sucking , deepthroating , a lot of spit , switch jisung , switch reader , jisung's a bold virgin and reader has never nutted , cum swallowing , ur reading ghost smut nothing is accurate , lmk if i missed anything!

making a side note cause idek what happened WE LOST THE PLOT but in the end i am decently satisfied with this work. there are no specified roles in this fic everyone just wants a good fuck ALSO will be uploading a text imagine for this fic because i got so emotionally invested in the character dynamics. okie bye pls enjoy!

jisung didn’t like the would haunt. he didn’t haunt things, he simply resided there. just like how he had been residing in your apartment for the past couple months. did you know of his presence? no. but he was definitely not haunting you.

the first time was an accident... kinda. at first he was more curious about the furry little creature that he saw on your balcony, absentmindedly following it into your apartment.

what a strange creature that thing, it's almost like it could see him. its sharp tiny eyes following his figure as it shimmied through your glass doors. what a fat lump of fur, little bell jingling against its neck, that smug little look on its face and- oh my ghost, what are you doing?

he thinks he's never seen a human this pretty in his short lifetime (deathtime?). your hair was a mess against your sheets, cheeks flushed and eyebrows knit together in concentration as your hands fiddled against your panties.

he watched as the fabric soaked into your heat, pink painted toes curling at the pressure you applied through your soft fingertips. your whiny moans surrounded him, room hot and sticky against his skin.

meow

that thing speaks?

meow

he looked down to the side of your bed as the furball clawed at your sheets, its beady eyes still staring directly at him.

"momu- stop- ugh, what is it?"

you attempted to swat the thing away, frustration building on your face.

"can you- momu what? what is it?"

You huffed as you sat up on your bed, hands slapping your duvet loudly. your eyes darted around the room looking for the source of your cat’s worries.

for a moment he froze in place, not like you could see him, but for some reason he felt like he’d been caught. he watched you hesitantly as your eyes scanned the room.

maybe it was the nerves but he swore that briefly, just briefly, your eyes focused right on where he was, a soft hm coming from your mouth as you relaxed back into your bed.

he was gone before you knew it, there’s no way you could see him, he was just being paranoid.

the second time was less of accident. he had been watching a movie with your neighbor, casper the friendly ghost, how fitting.

the only thing that would make this crappy movie any better was if he could sneak a piece of popcorn, the oblivious idiot probably wouldn’t notice anyway, eyes focused on the bright tv screen. speaking of this idiot, was he blatantly ignoring your obnoxiously loud moans? your voice was practically seeping through the thin walls of his apartment. were you just an inconsiderate neighbor or was it really that good? he had to find out. he wasn’t creeping, he was simply curious.

and that’s how he found himself back in your room watching as you stuffed your pretty pussy full with your small fingers. never had he seen a girl in heat.

your body was gleaming with sweat, clearly having been at this for a while now. you pushed your fingers deeper and deeper, body squirming under the force of your own hands. how did you even manage to fit three fingers in there?

and even though your hole seemed to struggle with the size and your moans grew impossibly louder, you never truly seemed satisfied. you tossed and turned clearly frustrated by your lack of skill. he looked down at his pants, he was much bigger than your flimsy little fingers, if only he could move your hands and-

meow

fucking hell. momu was it? momu fuck off.

you rolled your eyes as you pulled your sticky fingers out of your hole, a loud sigh leaving your lips, “i know momu- momu i know, no ones harming mommy.”

he swore your eyes met his as you spoke to the furball. what did you know exactly? he didn’t give himself time to wonder as he moved back into your neighbors home, at least the idiot was asleep, time to eat his popcorn.

the next couple of times weren’t accidents at all. it had become a habit at this point to watch you touch yourself. how could he stop himself when you were practically calling for him?

there you are sprawled out on your bed, sweet little pussy dripping onto your fresh sheets as you rubbed against your swollen clit. he was sat in his usual spot in the corner of your room, hands gently rubbing at his growing bulge, eyes trained on your body. if only he could touch you, please you how you so desperately wanted to be pleased. he knew he could satisfy you, could fuck the goon out of you. but why would he want this to end?

he wondered how pathetic he must look doing all of this, hand shoved down his pants, cheeks burning bright red as he came undone, embarrassed by his own actions. he only did all this because he knew you couldn’t see him, why would he openly be a peeping pervert?

you in fact could see him. it’s not like you had some crazy superpower, you just could.

originally you had thought he was your neighbor’s sibling. tall, handsome, and dorky, you watched as he blew air into your neighbor’s face while he was getting the mail. you had smiled to yourself, what an annoying little brother.

but then when you had mentioned it to your neighbor he had replied, “what brother?” strange. as you began to describe the image of the young man you had seen your neighbor only grew more confused. very strange.

maybe it was a misunderstanding. or maybe he was a fucking ghost.

it’s not like you believe in those things or anything, him being a ghost had never even crossed your mind. but as the same dorky man sunk into your room through your wall you thought there was absolutely no other explanation.

you should’ve screamed, should’ve ran away, called the cops. but you were so close. your legs only squeezed tighter around your hand as you watched him flush at the sight of you, bulge pressing against his jeans. he seemed hesitant, almost scared, as he continued to watch you touch yourself.

he gulped as you rubbed harder against your clothed core, fabric rubbing against your abused clit.

meow

what better cockblocker than your own cat.

"momu- stop- ugh, what is it?" you swatted at your cat, desperate to continue, "can you- momu what? what is it?"

you knew she was startled by the random man in your house, she was never a fan of new people. but you pretended to not know what was bothering her, looking around your room dumbly. you couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at the ghost, his chest rising and falling nervously like he had been caught. did he know you could see him?

definitely not, since he stumbled out of your room and straight off your balcony. you could practically scream, not only had your high died down, but your handsome hunk of a ghost had abandoned you.

you turned to your cat, “you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

how to evoke a ghost. okay maybe you were an horny freak, or maybe you were just insane, but you had suffered through countless nights of rubbing at your poor pussy, nothing satisfying you. but that one night that ghost had come into your room you felt like you could actually finish at the sight of him. where were you going to find a tall handsome loser in this day and age, let alone a dead one? okay, maybe you were a horny freak.

you scrolled through the google search results. light some candles and chant a prayer, too spooky. chant its name into a mirror, would it work if you chanted, “tall handsome dork, tall handsome dork, tall handsome dork!” probably not. you should’ve known it was pointless to begin with. you had lost your moment of luck, back to square one.

you laid back into your soft bed, getting comfortable against your pillows as you began to run your hands over your body. this was just a warm up, goosebumps forming on your skin as you teased your nipples, fingers teasing the skin of your breasts.

by the time your hands made their way down to your core you were panting softly, body running hot. you had probably been a little too excited to touch yourself, moans louder than usual as your fingers met your clit. holy shit, you squeezed your eyes shut, the image of the stranger ghost filled your head as you prodded at your entrance. one finger, not enough. two fingers, not enough. three fingers, your walls squeezed around your fingers tightly, why wasn’t this enough.

you moaned loudly, partly in frustration and partly from the feeling of your fingers digging deeper inside of you, the image of the ghost never leaving your mind. you just knew he was bigger than three little fingers of yours.

nevertheless, you put your fingers to work, occasionally bringing your free hand down to rub at your clit. if only, if only he just-

“fuck.”

your eyes fluttered open as you heard a soft groan coming from the corner of your room. and there he was, watching you touch yourself. you threw your head back on your pillow, body writhing under your touch as you felt his gaze burn your skin. this was good, actually it was more than good, it was great, you felt your walls pulse around your fingers, stomach in knots as you fucked yourself.

meow

that damn cat. momu fuck off.

you sighed as you pulled your fingers out, attention now on your crying cat, “i know momu- momu i know, no ones harming mommy.”

you turned towards the ghost as you spoke, eyes pleading, please don’t leave. but he was already on his way out, fading into your wall.

he liked to watch and you liked to be watched. that’s how things had turned out between you two, you played with yourself for hours and he’d palm himself through his jeans until he came. then you’d get up, take a shower, and when you returned he’d be gone. you were smart enough to lock your door now, momu the cockblocker no longer interrupting.

this unspoken arrangement between you two was fun, but not enough. hours and hours of rubbing and fucking yourself with your fingers and nothing. you were glad you helped him finish, but you’d never quite reach your own climax, pussy rubbed raw and not even one orgasm.

if this was any other guy you would’ve called him out by now, selfish prick. but every time you looked over at him he was hunched over in your love seat, cheeks flushed, bangs covering his eyes as he quietly groaned to himself. it’s almost like he was hiding from you. tall man now tiny as he shrunk into himself, biting his hand to silence his loud moans as he spurts cum into his jeans. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you longingly, hands itching to touch you, so why didn’t he?

only you would get stuck with a shy pervert ghost.

8:00 PM. around this time he was usually relaxing on your neighbor’s couch, watching whatever lame movie he had on his watchlist, but tonight your neighbor had gotten lucky, bringing some girl home.

they had been making out since they walked through the door, clothes quickly being removed and thrown around the entrance of his apartment. jisung was quick to slip away, deciding there was no harm in lounging at your place instead. he would much rather listen to your moans anyways.

he took his usual spot on the love seat in the corner of your room, slumping against the soft cushions. he wondered when you’d show up, you usually got horny around 10, so he guessed he’d have to wait for a while, but your arrival came sooner than expected as you walked into your room, lazily scratching at your arm, “oh hi.”

wait what? did you just talk to him?

your body stilled, eyes nervously glancing around the room. oh shit. had you just spoken to him?

he got up quickly from his seat, rushing towards you and waving a hand in your face, “can you see me?”

you were quick to turn around, walking out of your room and towards your living room. he was early, and you had just spoken to him out of instinct. he was basically living in your house by now, appearing every night, but today he was early and you had forgotten you weren’t supposed to be able to see him.

he followed after you, voice shaky as he called out for you, “wait- wait can you see me? stop-“

you stopped as you felt his hand reach for your arm. he let out a shocked gasp, “you can feel me too!”

he raised a finger at you as you turned to face him, a bright blush spreading down his neck. “you- you- can see-“ he redirected his finger to himself, “can see me?”

you gave him a quick nod, biting your lip to hide your smile, he was embarrassed, how cute.

“how- how can you- for how long?” his eyebrows knit together in worry, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

you contemplated whether or not to tell him the truth, maybe you could save him the shame of being caught red handed, and also benefit by not let him know you’re a weirdo who’s into ghosts. “this is my first time seeing you.”

he squinted his eyes, glaring at you, “you’re lying! if this was your first time seeing me you would’ve been scared! you’re acting like you’ve known me your whole life!”

you chuckled nervously, well now you both had been caught. “okay, maybe, maybe i’ve seen you around somewhere.”

he paced around your living room, hands gripping at the roots of his hair as he clenched his teeth, “oh my- you know i’ve been watching you! this is so embarrassing! i- i’m leaving this is insane-“

“wait.” you grabbed at his arm before he could disappear, desperation building in your eyes.

he shivered in your grasp. you were touching him, touching him with the same hands you worked against your wet heat, night after night begging for releasee. he felt his pants tighten, head dropping in shame.

“please don’t leave. i- i need you, don’t leave, please.”

he turned to you, confused. you needed him?

“you- you know better than anyone that i can’t- i can’t- you know.” you ducked your head, now you were the one feeling embarrassed. asking the paranormal to help you cum? top 10 most down bad moments.

“you can’t cum.” he said it so matter of factly that you forgot that he was that one that should be embarrassed. he’s the intruder, he’s the pervert, he’s the- the ghost!

“you want me to help you cum?” forget everything you just thought. yes he was all of those things, but right now, he was the only one that could make you finish, it’s not the time for smart comments.

you nodded slowly, eyes focused on a suddenly interesting speck of dust on the floor.

“use me.” you raised your head, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

“use me to cum.” jisung hoped you couldn’t hear the nerves in his tone.

okay so remember all that stuff jisung said about how he’d touch you and please you how you deserved, blah blah. well he may have stretched the truth a tiny bit. in his defense he never thought he’d actually get the opportunity to do all those things, and it’s not his fault he's a 22 year old virgin ghost! and now he had a horny freak that was ready to devour him, dragging him into her bedroom. if it wasn’t for his painfully hard cock straining against his jeans he probably would’ve run away, preferring to listen to your neighbor get laid.

you were quick to undress, shame leaving you as you felt your body heat up, pussy aching at the thought of finally having the dick you so desperately craved.

jisung mimicked your movements, undressing and climbing next to you in bed. he sat awkwardly, hands making a weak attempt at covering his length. you kneeled in front of him, arms coming up to collect your hair, tying it up neatly.

he gulped nervously, there it was, that look he knew so well. there was a glint in your eyes, that hungry gaze that meant you only had one thing in mind. an orgasm.

nervous was an understatement, he couldn’t have picked a more normal girl to watch?

you were going to eat him whole. he was there, right where you wanted him, and you were finally going to cum. it was just you, his dick, and your insatiable hunger.

you reached for his hands, moving them away to reveal his hard length. he was long and girthy, tip flushed and leaking. your mouth watered as you reached out to grab his base, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

he could practically cry as you stuck your tongue out to get a taste of him, rubbing the wet muscle along the head of his length. you parted your lips to surround his tip, sucking lightly. the moan you let out vibrated along his shaft, his shaky hands coming up to grip at you tied hair.

you relaxed your jaw as you opened your mouth wider to take more of him in, hands moving away from his base to lightly massage his balls. he groaned loudly as you kept lowering yourself on him, nose touching his pubic bone. you were insane.

“holy shit, you fucking slut.”

he pulled you up by your hair, a gasp leaving your lips as oxygen entered your lungs. you looked up at him, eyes glassy, spit pooling in your mouth. he pushed your head back down on him, tip poking at the back of your throat as he bobbed you on him, lewd noises coming from your mouth as you slobbered on his length, spit dripping down to his balls,

“this is what you wanted hm? so desperate, that's why you let me watch you this whole time?”

he lifted you back up, eyes slightly widening at your crazy grin, head struggling to nod as his grip on your hair tightened. he brought his free hand up to wipe your face, spit running down your chin and onto your breasts.

“so fucking dirty, come here.” he pulled you towards his lap, holding you up so you’d hover above his length. he reached down to rub his tip along your folds, collecting your juices.

“look- look at how fucking wet you are- jesus- want me to fuck you that badly, you’re pathetic, you’d let anyone fuck this pussy wouldn’t you?”

you whined loudly, shaking your head, “no- no- just you- fuck- want you so bad, please.” you panted in his grasp, hips rocking against his tip.

“that’s right baby, only i have what this pretty little pussy wants- fuck.” the words died in jisung’s throat as you sank yourself down on his length, wet heat engulfing his length.

“shit shit shit, you’re so big-“ he watched as you threw your head back, hips now sitting flush against his lap.

any confidence jisung had prior to this moment was completely lost. his forehead ached at how tightly his brows knit together, mouth falling open in a silent moan. he was the ghost but your pussy was supernatural.

his head fell against your breasts as you raised your hips before slamming back down onto him building a slow rhythm.

you gripped his jaw, bringing his face up to look at you, “got nothing to say now huh, dirty pervert, wanted to fuck me so bad.” he nodded into your hand, eyes soft as he stared up at you, “i- i thought i was gonna go crazy, wanted you so bad- fuck-“ you brought your hips flush against him, grinding down hard, his thick cock rubbing against your walls.

he gripped your ass, helping your hips move against his, “please- please use me to cum- want it so bad.”

you smirked down at him, lifting your hips slowly to slide back down at an angle so the head of his cock would rub against your sweet spot. he watched you as moans erupted from your chest, eyes squeezing tightly as you softly bounced on him.

“such a good boy baby, cock so perfect- oh my-“ your hips fell against his, soft pants warm against his chest as you leaned your forehead on his shoulder.

he reached down to cup your face, “what’s wrong? what happened angel- are you okay?”

worry bloomed in his chest as he looked at your flushed face, tears building in your eyes as you pouted up at him, “i- i can’t- wanna cum so bad- please.”

oh? you didn’t know how to make yourself cum. “poor baby-“ he kissed your pout softly before lifting you off of him, “good thing i’m here right?” he flipped you around, pushing your head down and pulling your hips up, “let me make you feel good hm?”

you nodded, head rubbing against your messy bedsheets. he slapped his length against your ass, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as you moaned at the feeling, “you’re dirty.”

he grabbed the base of his cock, pressing into you weeping hole, the new angle making him feel deeper than before, “i love it.”

that was the last thing said before his hips started to pound against your ass, loud slapping noises filling your room. you pushed your ass back deeper into him, each stroke of his length running along your spasming walls.

he hunched over your body, hand sneaking around your hips to rub your clit, “come on, i know you can do it baby, just relax, i got you.”

you focused on his touches, the way his fingers rolled along you clit, free hand flicking at your hard nipples, his length pulsing inside of you, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

then you felt it, that feeling you craved so much, like a pit of fire growing in your stomach, burning you from within, “please- please just like that, keep- keep.” you gripped onto the sheets, tears threatening to spill as you drooled dumbly.

in another universe above you, jisung was practically choking. your pussy had grown impossibly tighter, gummy walls suffocating him. if he kept at this he would probably faint. but as he felt your body begin to twitch beneath him he knew he couldn’t stop now. he fucked you like it was his only purpose on this earth, fingers cramping against your clit, but he kept going, he couldn’t stop.

your voice grew louder, a mix of moans and choked sobs leaving your drooling mouth as you wept into the sheets, body curling into itself as you felt the heat from your stomach explode. you gasped for air, toes curling as your body tensed.

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding,, body melting into the bed, a soft whine leaving your lips as you felt his length slip out of you.

he watched as you wiped at your face, tears staining your cheeks.

did you think this was over? he lifted you slightly, flipping you over on your back before climbing on top of you, legs straddling your chest. you hiccuped as he tapped your cheek with his still hard cock. “suck.” he placed his tip against your lips, moaning softly as you began to suck lightly.

your juices helped his hands slide against his length, his pace fast as he jerked himself off into your mouth. his free hand rubbed your cheek softly, tears wetting his fingertips, “so fucking pretty- look at me- fuck- i’m gonna cum.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes soft and glassy. he was huge from this angle, lean body towering over you. his skin was flushed, pink spreading along his chest, bangs sticking to his forehead as he hunched over you.

"i'm-oh fuck-" his hand stilled, squeezing at his base. his mouth hung open in a silent moan, eyes crossing slightly as he spilled into your mouth. you moved your head away slightly as he rubbed some of his cum on your swollen lips.

he let out a loud sigh, tired body falling back onto your bed. he took a deep breath before sitting back up to reach for you, pulling you on top of him.

jisung looked down at you as your body shook against his chest, soft giggles leaving your lips, “i- i just had sex with a ghost! ha! i’m so fucking horny i’ve finally lost my mind!”

you slapped his chest lightly, then again, and again. “what?” he rubbed your back softly, “just wondering if you were actually real or if the gooning got to me.”

he chuckled as you started to giggle again, “you’re fucking insane and that is so fucking hot.”

a professional gooner and a pervert ghost aka a match made in heaven.

check out goons and ghosts the text imagine!

#nerdlvr #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct smut #nct fanfic #nct jisung #park jisung #jisung #park jisung smut #jisung smut #jisung imagines #park jisung imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut

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missadangel · 1 month ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 12: You Are The Reason

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Chapter Summary: To make a fresh start, you need to deal with the struggles from the past. For Harry, this became his main goal, focusing only on the love between you two and leaving no space for anything else. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,3k, FEELINGS, romance, violence, emotions, making up, redemption, intrigue, tension, mention about guns, love, propose (its happening!), sharing a bed, confessions, a little tiny angst, happy ending... authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

On a Sunday morning in Manhattan.

Waking up early can feel like the hardest thing in the world—no matter who you are. Whether you're a student, a regular employee, a wealthy CEO, or even a billionaire with an empire, the struggle is universal.

After all, Sunday is often the only day to truly unwind.

At least, that's what Harry believed. He thought he'd treat himself to a late morning, hoping to linger in bed a little longer. Sleep had been hard to come by lately, and even though he splurged on a sleep mask—something he’d never tried before—he was still nodding off at three in the morning.

Letting out a quiet groan, he fumbled around on the nightstand, his eyes still covered by the mask, trying to grab his ringing phone.

He knew it wasn’t Oliver calling; it was probably Maria or, more likely, someone else entirely. He figured you wouldn’t be calling, especially after Zoe caught the two of you in your room. But there was still a tiny glimmer of hope, so he cleared his throat and answered.

"Yes?"

“Code red, Harry,” a woman’s voice responded, urgent and serious.

Harry’s heart raced as he tore off the sleep mask. He slowly realized it was Sofia's voice. What he hadn’t realized was that he had just answered a video call from his mother. The alarm in Sofia's voice alerted him, and when Valeria appeared on the screen, he barely managed a coherent thought.

“Jesus Christ!”

Harry squinted through the haze of sleep as he tried to adjust to the bright morning light blooming across his room, puzzled by his mother’s reaction.

“Sofia, look at him. He looks utterly miserable! Oh Harry, my son, I don’t even know what to say," Valeria exclaimed.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you too, mother.” He raised an eyebrow. “Wait, did you just call me miserable?”

Valeria leaned the phone closer to her face. “You wear a sleep mask because you can’t sleep! I can see the bags under your eyes from here; plus, waking up alone in bed is downright miserable.”

“Maybe getting you that phone with a 4k video quality wasn’t such a great idea after all,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“At least I can watch over you from here, since I can't leave the house.”

Harry frowned, noticing the clock on the nightstand reading 7:45. “If you're done with your early Sunday morning ritual of waking me up and criticizing me, I’d love to get some more sleep, Mrs, Castillo,” he muttered, sinking back into his pillow while keeping the phone propped on its side in his hand to stare at his mother.

“You no-good son! What are you waiting for? Why haven’t you made up with her yet? You should be up doing something to win her back!” Her voice rang loud, and as she leaned forward, Sofia had to catch the phone before it slipped from her grip.

“Calm down. We’ve agreed to start over. I offered to take her out to dinner, and she said yes. We’ll sort things out.”

“Sofia, hold the phone properly,” Valeria scolded, lifting it higher to frame her face. “You should ask her to marry you! Come and get the ring—unless you want me to ask Harry Winston's to give it a polish first, since it’s been stuck in the drawer for years.”

“You definitely should; it’s one of their first, rare pieces,” came another voice from somewhere off-screen.

“Is that Maria?” Harry squinted, recognizing the teasing tone.

“Hey bud,” Maria waved at the camera.

“Of course, it’s you. Who else would be spying on my life with my mother?”

“If you visited your mother more often, I wouldn’t have to keep her in the loop,” Valeria retorted.

“I’m a 45-year-old adult. I can handle my own problems,” Harry grunted.

“It’s tough to say your methods of problem-solving actually work,” Maria chimed in.

“Sofia, show him that picture on the tablet,” Valeria instructed. The image displayed was of a small child.

“Who is this?” Harry asked, squinting at the screen.

“Mateo's son—he’s five years old now.”

“His second son,” Sofia corrected, looking at the screen as if sharing a well-kept secret.

“Oh right, his second,” Valeria echoed.

Harry sighed heavily.

Valeria flicked through her phone and showed another pic of a newborn baby with a guy holding her. “Hugo just had a baby girl last week.”

“Didn’t he just get married last year?” Harry muttered, surprised.

Valeria nodded and continued, “Maybe he wanted to make his mother happy by giving her a grandchild.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and guess what? Daniel is engaged and getting married soon. Can you believe it?”

Harry was struggling with the news. “Well, it’s his second marriage; that doesn’t really count.”

“He’ll be tying the knot for the second time while you’re still single, just so you know,” Valeria pointed out.

“Come on, Sofia, why don’t you pull up Uncle Fernando’s son’s Instagram? He just got married,” Maria suggested.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Enough already. I get it.”

“You do? Then it’s time to take action.”

“And don’t take too long,” Maria said sipping her coffee.

“Stop bossing me around. I’m not ignoring what she wants. She asked for time, and I’m giving her that.”

“Ugh, men... They just don’t get it,” Maria replied.

“Not at all,” added Valeria.

“They’re all the same,” Sofia said with a disapproving look.

“Maybe it’s because you’re all are more complex than the hardest riddle,” Harry retorted before ending the video call.

It was too much.

Not a moment passed without him thinking about how to win you back, and the pressure from his mother only added to his frustration. He ran his hand over the pillow and sheet, glancing at the empty side of the bed.

He sighed deeply, holding the pillow in his lap, his heart aching at the thought of wrapping you in his arms instead. Each minute without you made the bed feel as cold as ice, while it once felt so warm with you by his side.

He frowned as he remembered that you were postponing the dinner arrangement the last time you spoke on the phone.

Once again, he picked up his phone, resting his chin on the pillow as he opened your chat screen. As he did every morning, he gazed at your profile picture and sighed. You had changed it two weeks ago; you smiled sweetly at the camera, holding a tray of the cheesecakes you baked when you first opened your shop. And, like every morning, gloom washed over him, mixed with anger.

You were just a short distance away in your cousin’s apartment, likely sleeping in your own bed instead of beside him in his.

In your absence, he lost the excitement to plan his free days; nothing felt appealing when you weren’t part of it.

He couldn’t even let himself dream anymore.

How could he?

Nothing held meaning without you.

You were everything he ever longed for, and you would forever be intertwined with every dream he would have.

You were all he ever wanted.

The truth hit Harry harder than ever before. It had been four days and eighteen hours since he last saw you, since he last felt your touch, and time continued to tick away.

What the hell was he waiting for?

With a sudden burst of frustration, yet fueled by determination, he threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

The same morning in Brooklyn...

Sunday morning wasn’t shaping up any better for you either. The moment you woke up, just like Harry, your eyes drifted to the other side of the bed, thoughts of him flooding your mind. But your guilt paled in comparison to the weight of his. You had managed to come to terms with your feelings, promising yourself there would be no physical contact until your first date—a crucial step toward reconciliation after the breakup. You resolved to avoid him as much as possible, but it was proving to be an uphill battle. It felt like your heart was trapped in an iron cage, desperately trying to break free, and you had to suppress the painful thudding for now. To help keep your mind off things, you found a new pastime: develop new recipes for the bakery. The busier you kept yourself, the more you could listen to your head instead of your heart.

You decided to enter the upcoming chef competition to elevate the bakery’s unique offerings, but you needed a standout product to present. So, you set out to shop for inspiration. Many of the fruit markets were either closed or opened late on Sundays, but the one on 14th Street in Manhattan had fresh produce and was open every day of the week.

Having finished the morning’s cooking at the store and getting everything prepped and ready, you left Zoe and the others in charge. As you strolled toward the fruit shop, your phone rang. It was Jack, peppering you with questions about Melanie. You answered honestly, but it was clear he wasn’t buying her act of being the innocent daughter.

Despite everything, he seemed genuinely grateful for your helping her work at your bakery. His mood shifted to anger when you mentioned Alan buying the shop, and his fatherly instincts kicked in. Jack often expressed that he wished you were his real daughter instead of Melanie—a sentiment that resonated with you. There were times you envisioned him as your father rather than your own, considering how strained your relationship was with your grumpy, withdrawn, hard-ass dad.

Yet, despite the differences between Jack and your father, they shared one glaring flaw: both ignored their own mistakes. Jack was blissfully unaware of Alan's involvement in drug smuggling, and you were relieved; you didn't want him to get caught up in that mess. Besides, he probably wouldn’t have approved if he knew you were helping the NYPD commissioner with this situation. It had to remain a secret.

The fruit market was quiet, most New Yorkers likely still busy with brunch. As you browsed through the aisles, your phone rang again. This time, it was a video chat from Valeria.

You sighed and glanced around before picking up. “Hello, Valeria,” you said, waving.

Her smile beamed back, brighter than your own. “Hey, cariño. I wanted to check on how you're doing—”

Suddenly, a hand reached from behind you and grabbed your phone. You turned in shock to see Harry, holding your phone and looking at his mother through the screen. “Leave her alone. You can pester me all you want, but not her.”

“What the— Harry—”

Harry ended the video call and handed your phone back to you. You stood there, trying to wrap your head around what had just transpired. “Harry, what do you think you’re doing? Why did you hang up on your mom?”

“I just saved you, darling,” he replied with that charming smile.

Oh, that smile—so disarming it made you forget everything: where you were, what you were doing, who you were.

You turned your head away, trying to shake off your attraction. “What are you doing here anyway? How did you know I was here?” You fidgeted with a package of blueberries. “Only Zoe and Nick... Wait a minute. Is he your spy?"

Harry picked up a mango, inspecting it. “Spy? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Harry...”

"Baby..."

You shared a long gaze, each lost in the other’s eyes.

“...We promised not to see each other until dinner, to create some distance between us.”

He smirked. “Darling. If we put any more distance between us, we might as well be two neighboring countries with no diplomatic relations.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh.

“Besides, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not here to break our agreement. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Oh really? Then why are you here?”

Harry glanced around the fruit section. “Fruits. I came to buy some. This was the only place open in the neighborhood.”

“Are you saying you came here to shop by yourself? All right, Mr. Castillo, what fruit are you planning to get?”

Harry looked over at the nearby fruit display. “I think I’ll go for the blueberries. I love them; I’m going to toss them in my smoothie.”

You chuckled. “That’s not blueberries, that’s cranberries. And a smoothie might not be the best choice since you don’t like sour flavors.”

You both exchanged smiles, pleasantly surprised by the detail you remembered about him. Harry put the cranberries back, looking a bit sheepish. “I honestly thought they were unripe blueberries,” he admitted. “But what about you? I haven’t seen you with a bag yet.”

You glanced at the berries again. “I actually came here to rediscover a flavor I can barely remember.”

“Is this about your special dessert?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid, my mom would make a pie in the summer with fresh fruit from the farm. The aroma was so intoxicating; I can still recall the smell, like a warm breeze. The cream was infused with wild strawberries. Unfortunately, the ones here just don’t measure up to what I remember. I still need to buy some and give it a try.”

"You could just order online. It is a waste of time coming here, especially with how busy you are. Don’t you ever get exhausted?"

You picked a fresh strawberry and held it out for him to smell. “Take a whiff of this.”

Harry inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scent.

“Why would I choose to order online when I can savor the vibrant colors and intoxicating scents of this fresh, succulent fruit right here? Plus, life is out here on the streets, Mr. Castillo. When was the last time you fed or petted a cat or a dog?”

He couldn't find the words to respond, instead simply smiling with admiration.

You bought the mountain strawberries, and Harry settled on the blueberries.

As you both exited the market and wandered through Central Park, you generously shared some dog food you had purchased earlier with a few stray dogs, giving one a gentle pat on the head. Harry followed suit, smiling at the experience, clearly appreciating this side of you.

“How can you be so amazing?” he murmured, locking eyes with you.

You smiled back, feeling your cheeks warm.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're a real Cinderella, a fairy tale beauty—more a product of my imagination than reality."

You giggled. "I’m not sure that’s a very healthy compliment."

You both shared a laugh.

Just then, a dog emerged from the trees, making both of you tense.

“That dog,” Harry pointed out, nervous.

“Muddy and soaked,” you said, mirroring his tone.

As you feared, the dog instinctively shook itself dry, flinging mud and water everywhere. You closed your eyes and shielded yourself, while Harry did the same for you, but it was too late. The dog’s fur sprayed you with a torrent of wetness.

Now both soaked and dirty, you caught each other’s surprised expressions. Onlookers, including children and tourists, couldn’t help but laugh at the scene.

You burst into laughter, taking in your drenched state down to your underwear. “You naughty dog,” you muttered, looking at the oblivious animal, which was too busy enjoying the food to care.

“Great, just great,” you said in exasperation.

“What was that, honey? Something about ‘life on the street’?” he teased.

“How was I to know a wet dog would come out of nowhere?” you grimaced. “Oh, I smell terrible. There’s no way I’m going back to the bakery like this.”

“Well, hello? I stink too, Cinderella,” he said with a laugh. “Come on, we’re heading to my place.”

You widened your eyes in disbelief. “What? No way, I’m going home to take a shower and change.”

“Your apartment’s on the other side of the city, and I doubt they’ll let you on the subway like that, baby,” he quipped, still chuckling.

You huffed, tugging your wet and filthy dress and sneezing unexpectedly. Harry grabbed your wrist. “Stop being stubborn. Just come with me. I’ll call the driver.”

That afternoon in Harry’s penthouse.

It was undeniably strange.

Awkward, too.

Everything about it seemed off, especially after all the promises you had made to yourself. But this was no choice you had made deliberately, was it? You never could have anticipated it would come to this.

After all this time, standing in this room where you once shared your last conversation sent a wave of memories crashing over you. You could still hear his words echoing in your mind, a haunting reminder of what had been shared that night.

To your surprise, you didn’t feel as terrible as you thought you would.

“You can use the shower in the bathroom here, and I’ll take the one upstairs,” Harry suggested, his voice laced with caution and trembling slightly as he studied your face.

He must have sensed the mixed emotions stirring within you, especially given the memories this place held—memories of laughter and deep conversations. You sighed, attempting to gather your thoughts, and nodded in response. As you made your way to the bathroom, he headed upstairs.

After your shower, you crossed paths in the hallway, both wrapped in bathrobes. The atmosphere felt strange, undeniably weird, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was anything but humorous.

“The clothes in your room are still there,” Harry ventured, breaking the thick silence. “If you want to get dressed—”

“I can wash and dry the dress I just took off in the laundry room. Besides, those clothes are too valuable to wear only at the bakery,” you replied.

“In terms of money, maybe,” he said firmly, “but they’re just pieces of fabric. They’re practically worthless compared to you. It’s you who brings out their true value.”

A shy smile crept onto your face at his compliment as you lowered your gaze. But as he stepped closer, you dared to look up at him again. “Your hair isn’t completely dry,” he added softly, reaching out to run his fingers through your damp strands.

“It’s hot today; it’ll dry quickly,” you murmured, trying to keep your cool.

Thanks to the promises you’d made to yourself, you stood frozen as he touched you. Actually, you should have pushed him away, but in this whirlwind of emotions and memories, blocking him out felt impossible.

Harry must have gauged your hesitation, as he slowly pulled his hand back. “I should get dressed. Are you sure you can wait for the dress to dry?”

“The dryer only takes fifteen minutes, Harry,” you replied, noting the edge of sadness t in his tone.

“Right,” he said, frustratingly, making his way toward the bedroom.

You returned to the bathroom to grab your clothes before heading to the laundry room. By the time you both joined again, he was dressed in a cream and beige t-shirt paired with jeans, while you were still in your robe, feeling a bit nervous. He settled beside you on the small seat in the laundry room, and you shifted slightly to make space.

The two of you fell into a weird silence, watching the washing machine spin your dress. From the corner of your eye, you felt his gaze lingering on you.

“Saturday night,” he remarked suddenly, as if a lightbulb had gone on in his mind.

You raised an eyebrow, curious.

“Are you free next Saturday night?”

You knew this wasn’t just about dinner; it was more profound, a promise of returning to each other, a step you had been avoiding until now. But in that moment, you felt ready.

Resolutely, you nodded, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m free that evening.”

He gently took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Thank you,” he said, sincerity ringing in his voice.

At that moment, the washing machine beeped, indicating it was done. You got up to transfer your dress to the dryer, and once it finished as well, he gave you some space while you got dressed. When you finally emerged, fully changed, you found him on the phone in the living room. You waved as you headed for the door, but just then, he ended his call and called out your name.

“Please don’t leave like this.”

You froze in place.

There was more than just pleading in his voice; you could sense it, a deeper emotion lurking beneath the surface.

You turned to face him.

He stepped closer, taking your hand gently in his. "That night, I should have said that. I should have stopped you, should never have let you walk away." Suddenly, he knelt before you, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I should have groveled, begged for you to stay."

Tears blurred your vision as you whispered, “Harry.”

He gripped your hand tightly, as if it were his lifeline, his expression pained. "You were right. I am like a child... when it comes to love. I've always felt that way, like an idiot. It's so hard for me to process. It's as if figuring it out is a math problem, but with you, everything changed. I saw how cowardly I really was, because with you, love felt easy—natural, free of complications." You touched his cheek softly, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. He sighed, closing his eyes to savor your touch. When he opened them again, a single tear slipped down his cheek. "Baby, I beg for your forgiveness. Without you, I’m a ship adrift in an endless ocean; you're my beacon, my only compass. The love I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve ever known."

“Harry,” you murmured, kneeling beside him. “What I should have said that day was that you hurt me so much I might never be able to forgive you.” The truth burst forth from your heart. “I should never have allowed you to get close, should never have slept with you, should never listened to what my heart was saying."

Harry swallowed hard. “And what does your heart say now?”

You smiled softly. “It says I should forgive you and wrap my arms around you.”

"Will you follow your heart?"

You sighed, sinking down onto the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe I should, but it doesn’t feel the same as before.”

“Let it be then. We’ll start over,” he murmured.

“That’s the problem, Harry,” you said, wiping the tears away. “You can be impulsive and sometimes a bit materialistic, especially when it comes to making amends.”

"What do you mean by that?"

“Like when you planned to go to Paris. Leaving me your shares and your penthouse as if that would fix everything instead of just apologizing.”

“Would you forgive me if I simply said I was sorry?”

“At least that would show me you’re trying. I’d recognize the effort, not just in a material way, but something deeper.”

He grasped your meaning. “I’m such an idiot, aren’t I?”

You leaned in closer, cradling his face in your hands. "We’re both to blame. I shouldn’t have gone there that night; we could have found another way."

You both sighed deeply at the realization, feeling lighter for sharing it.

"I think we’re in phase five," Harry said as he sat beside you, stretching his legs out.

You knew he was referring to the fifth stage of grief.

"Yeah, which means that what we did last week was merely a sign of depression. All that sex we had."

"That’s right. We chose physical intimacy over conversation," he said, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. "But admit it, it was amazing."

“It truly was,” you confessed, chuckling together.

Another heavy sigh escaped from both of your lips.

“So, Saturday night,” he murmured, standing and offering you his hand.

“Saturday night,” you echoed as you took his hand and stood up. He watched attentively as you straightened your dress.

“I have to head back to the shop,” you mumbled, your heart longing to stay, but you forced yourself to move on.

“Sure, I’ll see you then,” he said, his tone hesitant, a flicker of something in his gaze.

“Yeah, bye,” you said with a shy smile, leaning in for a kiss on his cheek as he leaned in at the same moment.

So awkward.

Again.

Come on, why was it so tough to just give a simple kiss on the cheek?

Each time you aimed for it, he instinctively found yours, your lips almost brushing together in perfect unison, dangerously close.

You knew you must look silly.

Neither of you could contain your laughter at the absurdity of the moment.

Then, your lips met in a kiss, and the playful mood shifted to serious.

Harry's hand found its place on your waist, pulling you closer.

He was kind, and yet you found it all too easy to lose yourself in that kiss.

It ignited a fire within you, turning passionate and hungry, enveloping you completely, as if you had poured gasoline onto a flame. You clung to him, pressing closer, desperately craving that connection.

Then your phone rang, breaking the spell.

For the first time, you were relieved for the interruption, reminded of the promises you'd made to yourself.

You pulled your lips away just enough to speak, breathless. “Harry, we better stop.”

He placed a tender kiss on your neck and nodded, reluctant to let you go. When he finally withdrew, it was with pain as he felt the loss of your warmth.

The ache continued as you answered the phone and stepped out of the penthouse, both of you left in a whirlwind of emotions, the connection still lingering in the air.

On Wednesday morning in your bakery.

You couldn't help but chuckle at one of Harry's classic, humorous texts that popped up on your phone after you arranged the sweets in the display case. Ever since you two decided to start fresh, he had been sending you a string of funny messages and reels that brought a lightness to your heart.

One of the messages read:

"My Crush: I'm not that cute. Also her: A photo of an adorable kitten with a pink bow clip by its ear."

You laughed a bit too loudly, catching the attention of some customers at a nearby table who turned to glance your way, prompting you to offer an apologetic smile.

“At least one of us is in a good mood today,” Zoe remarked as she approached you, while Melanie and Nick tended to other customers.

"Has John called yet?"

"Who cares? You know what? It's better this way." she put the tray on the counter. "Now tell me. What had you cracking up so much, Miss Happy?"

Right, you hadn't mentioned that you saw Harry last Sunday. You couldn’t let Zoe know you were on better terms with Harry while she was dealing with her fallout with John. “Oh, just some funny videos online,” you shrugged, sending Harry a laughing emoji before slipping your phone into your pocket.

"Isn’t that Lucy, the matchmaker bitch?" Melanie said.

You both turned to her voice. It was her, and you instinctively tensed. What was she doing here? As Zoe squinted at Lucy in annoyance, you stepped out from behind the counter to join her.

Lucy glanced between the three of you, surprise flickering in her eyes as she stopped on Melanie. Then she looked directly at Zoe. “Can I have a word with you?”

Zoe hesitated at first, but after a reassuring look from you, she agreed. Your jaw dropped when you noticed the car parked out front. Theo was here.

Great.

You realized you hadn’t been fair to him, especially after you’d ditched him last time.

Melanie smirked at the sight of Theo entering the shop. “Looks like I picked the best place to work—there's never a dull moment around here.”

You shot her a dirty look and turned to greet Theo with a smile. “Hey. What brings you here?”

"I stopped by to check just how swamped you were, hoping it would explain why you haven't replied to my messages," he said with a grin as he glanced around the bustling shop. "And, wow, you really are incredibly busy."

“Yeah, sorry, it’s been a hectic week,” you admitted, eyeing the flashy sports car behind him. “A Lamborghini? Are you, like, the son of someone famous or something?”

“Kind of,” he said, smiling “There are things about my family I haven't told you yet, stuff I would have shared if you’d come over that night.”

You felt a flush of embarrassment remembering why you hadn’t gone to see him. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Would you like to talk outside for a bit? Maybe take this beauty for a spin? I remember you mentioned you love sports cars.”

It was an exciting offer, and you knew you should have a serious talk with him before things went any further. Zoe and Lucy had wrapped up their conversation by now, so you asked Zoe to cover the shop for a bit and hopped into Theo’s car.

After an exhilarating ride on a private, traffic-free track, Theo treated you to coffee and began sharing stories about his family. He explained that his father, a well-known senator, was unaware of his acting aspirations, as Theo wasn’t ready to come forward and share that side of himself. Despite the circumstances, you sensed his genuine interest in you.

Deciding it was best to be honest and end things on a good note, you leaned against the hood of the car, gazing out at the cityscape. “I think I already knew,” he said softly. “You’re still in love with him.”

You couldn't deny it; your silence confirmed his intuition.

“Can we stay friends? You’re a wonderful person, and I enjoy our conversations. When others find out I'm a senator's son, they often act differently, but you’ve treated me just like anyone else, and I appreciate that.”

You laughed, “I’ve heard that before. Did John know?”

“Yes, he has been known for a long time. He introduced me to the agency. You, Zoe, and he are such kind people. I’m glad to know you all.”

“You’re kind too, Theo. I have no doubt you’ll find the true love you’re looking for someday.”

After sharing a friendly hug, you exchanged warm goodbyes, promising to see each other again.

Thursday evening in your apartment.

You and Zoe were lounging in separate couches after a long day, chatting about yesterday's events. "So Lucy mentioned that John helped her with something, but he won’t say what it is?" What could be so crucial that he couldn't reveal it? "Maybe it really matters; John cares about you, after all."

"Then why isn’t he doing anything to make it right?" Zoe replied, frustration evident in her tone.

"Some guys just aren't all that romantic, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you."

"I don’t care. He promised me his ex wouldn’t be a part of our lives, and I can't be with someone who breaks that promise even before we’re married. And that woman? She's no saint."

You had to admit Zoe wasn't wrong; you didn’t have the best impression of Lucy. But still, John had always seemed like a good guy to you. You believed there must be a reasonable explanation for all this. Your thoughts were interrupted when you noticed a message from Harry pop up on your phone.

"I can hear your heart racing for Saturday. I have several surprises planned—want a hint?"

Curious, you quickly typed back, "Surprises? Hmm, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued."

His reply came just as fast: "Check the door."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

You jumped up excitedly from the couch, and Zoe squinted her eyes, sizing you up. "Were you expecting someone?"

With a mischievous smile, you headed to the door, but when you opened it, nobody was there. Puzzled, you glanced around before spotting a teddy bear on the floor, holding a red heart-shaped balloon and an envelope on its lap. As you bent down to retrieve the envelope, you tucked your hair behind your ear. Inside, you found a polaroid photograph of Paris, featuring the Eiffel Tower in the distance—exactly the view from your hotel room that day, and the same picture Harry took back then.

"Who's there?" Zoe called from the living room, making you jump. Just then, you noticed John lingering in the hallway -lost in thought- and invited him over.

What a lucky coincidence.

"Tell Zoe you got this for her; I haven’t told her I made up with Harry yet," you whispered quickly, pressing the teddy bear into John's hands and slipping the envelope into your pocket.

"But I already bought flowers," he muttered, holding up a bunch of pink roses.

"So? Listen, she needs all the romance she can get right now," you insisted.

"John?"

You both turned to Zoe, who was giving you a curious look. "Oh, and you said John wasn't romantic," you teased, nudging him lightly.

Zoe crossed her arms and eyed the flowers and teddy bear in his hands. "What do you want?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

"Yes! Talk! Great idea!" You took John by the arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. "Oh, I just remembered—gotta make an important phone call in my room. You two talk."

Zoe called after you, but you ignored her and dashed to your room; John's timing couldn’t have been better.

Quickly, you pulled out your phone and called Harry. It rang twice before he answered.

"Hey, beautiful. Did you get the clue from the teddy bear?"

"Yes, but Paris? Really?"

"It all started there, and I thought it’d be the perfect place for us to start fresh."

You smiled at the sweet memories. "But Harry, I can’t just leave the shop, and you have work at the company. We’re both swamped."

"Can’t you leave it with Zoe for a few days, or at least shut it down? We at castillofunds.co would be more than happy to cover any losses for The Vanilla Vine."

You chuckled at the idea. "Hmm, well, but I do have a competition at the end of the month."

"Only three days, sweetheart. Just you and me," he replied in a low, enticing voice.

You smiled back playfully. "Alright, ol'man."

As soon as you ended the call, an incoming call interrupted you—an unknown number.

It was Gerardo.

You’d almost forgotten about him. He informed you that they had received word that Alan was leaving NYC tomorrow morning, and this was your only chance to take him down. You felt a wave of annoyance at yourself for agreeing to help, but you knew you had to.

That bastard had gotten away with too much.

You remembered Harry's outburst from last time when he had angrily said he wanted to kill Alan—not literally, of course. However, Alan was different; his demeanor was chilling, indicating that he was not just a nuisance but a real threat. If helping the NYPD meant you could finally rid yourself of him once and for all, then you felt you had no choice.

Friday morning at Alan’s hotel.

The plan was straightforward: break into his penthouse and access the safe containing crucial documents, including details of his illegal drug shipments. While the police had the combination, simply entering the hotel posed significant risks. Alan wasn’t naive; he had connections with nearly every NYPD commissioner, carefully keeping his enemies close and collecting intelligence on them whenever he could.

Some of the hotel staff recognized you, while others did not. You were familiar with the kitchen team, but you needed the cleaning staff to gain easy access to the elevator and the upper floors. When you approached the head of housekeeping and laid out your situation, he appeared apprehensive at first. Yet, his allegiance to the police prevailed, and he agreed to help.

The housekeeping team had access cards to reach the penthouse, allowing you to use the inconspicuous service elevator—after all, no one ever paid much attention to them.

This was a benefit you appreciated from your time as a maid.

With the chief's assistance, you donned a cleaning uniform and rolled the service trolley into the elevator. You couldn't help but chuckle nervously as you gazed at your reflection. You never thought you’d find yourself in this outfit again. As the elevator ascended, your anxiety mounted, your heart pounding in your chest. You held your breath when you reached the penthouse floor, mentally replaying the the commissioner's instructions: find the safe, use the code breaker, retrieve the document, and make a swift exit.

Easier said than done, of course.

They had briefed you thoroughly and would be watching your every move from outside, providing a phone similar to those seen in movies for communication.

Still, you felt a wave of nerves wash over you.

The elevator chimed as it reached the penthouse, replacing your fears with a different brand of anxiety. Adrenaline coursed through your body, and your palms grew slick with sweat. Memories of the last time you were there ignited a flicker of anger, fueling your determination to carry out your mission.

The question remained though, where was Alan’s private safe?

Having cleaned numerous hotel rooms, you had a good sense of where it might be, yet it eluded you. After about half an hour of searching, exhaustion set in, and you collapsed onto the couch.

Gerardo called for a status update, and you told him that despite your efforts, you hadn’t found it. He suggested a few other spots, but none of them panned out.

As you leaned against the bar counter, a memory flickered in your mind. That night—when Alan approached you from behind the bar with documents in hand...

Could it be?

It struck you as ridiculous, but what if Alan had a safe behind the bar? “I feel like I’m starring in a crime movie or something,” you murmured to yourself.

You slipped behind the counter and bent down to inspect. Lifting lids revealed nothing but glasses and barware, but as you were about to close it up, you noticed something sticking out from behind the glasses on the bottom shelf. Carefully, you removed the glasses one by one, exposing a hidden hatch. With a determined tug, you pulled it open.

“I found you,” you whispered with a sense of triumph. Beneath the hatch lay a safe with a digital keypad—just what the cops had described, a fingerprint unlocker. Remembering your instruction, you placed the code breaker against the lock. You marveled at this device, intrigued by its technology. In just minutes, the lock switched from red to green, and the safe door creaked open.

“Please be certain to pick up the correct documents,” the commissioner’s voice came through the phone, steady and authoritative.

You froze as you peered inside the safe.

There was a pistol, 9mm ammunition, valuables, cash bundles, and various documents. Even though Alan was a criminal and a jerk, rifling through someone’s personal belongings felt wrong, but you had a job to do. While examining the files, the commissioner interrupted once more, reminding you of how the file should look. Just then, someone called his name and whispered in his ear. He picked up the phone to speak to you again. “Get out of there now,” he urged sharply.

“What did you say?” you asked, startled.

“Finnegan has returned to the hotel. He left the airport before boarding his jet. Mission’s off. You need to get out now. I repeat, get out now.”

“Hurry up,” Gerardo added urgently.

“Damn,” you muttered, realizing you had gone to great lengths for this. But just then, as you skimmed through one last file, you found what you needed: everything—drug routes, sellers, suppliers, schedules—was there.

You placed the file into the bag, organizing the remaining papers back in their proper spots.

Time was slipping away as you locked the safe, closed the lid, and carefully rearranged the glasses one by one, your hands trembling, head spinning, heart racing, and palms sweating. Just as you were about to throw the bag over your shoulder and make your way to the elevator, the chime of the other elevator and Alan’s voice made you freeze.

You quickly crouched down, hiding in the most secluded corner of the counter, muttering a curse under your breath.

Why did he have to come back?

Fuck my luck, you cursed.

Alan was arguing with someone; his voice was laced with anger, and fortunately, he was too furious to think about drinking. But that didn’t ease your nerves. You felt a jolt when you heard the other voice.

“Lucy, what the fuck? Who do you think you are? I had to cancel my flight because of you!”

Oh great, thanks a lot, Lucy.

“You will listen to me this time.”

“I told you, that baby isn’t coming into this world. Get rid of it, or I’ll do it myself.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; your mind was racing.

“She’s almost four months along. It’s too risky to abort now.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Not taking your pills to blackmail me? You’re pathetic!”

“No, you’re the pathetic one! You’re so obsessed with him that you’re willing to reject your own child!” Lucy shouted.

“Shut up,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

You didn’t need to see his face to feel how furious he was.

“If I had known you were this obsessed with Harry, I would have never dated you. You’ve made hating him your life’s mission; it’s sick.”

“I told you to shut up,” he warned again, his anger palpable and even more menacing this time.

“You watched us from a distance while we were together; you were thrilled when I dumped him, weren’t you? I know you roped John into all this too. You are responsible for everything. I lost them both because of you. Then you threatened me over my job just so I could pretend to be with you. But when Harry fell for that girl, you tried to get rid of me, didn’t you? She became your next target.”

“Don’t even put yourself in the same category as her. I genuinely love her.”

“Love?" She laughed, her voice tinged with distress, and you could hear her trying to stifle a sob. "No, you don’t know what love is. If you truly did, you wouldn’t treat her like this. All you want is to watch Harry suffer. You’re the most obsessively twisted person I’ve ever encountered.”

Alan let out a chilling, unnatural laugh. “Maybe you should stop talking to me that way. You have no idea what a truly twisted person is capable of.”

He moved closer, and you felt Lucy’s fear echoing your own. "I will kill you, and no one will ever find your body. Do you understand me?"

This was beyond what you could stand; you should have acted instead of just being afraid. Looking around, you spotted several liquor bottles. Grabbing one, you knew you had no other choice.

“Get rid of that baby, or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“No, I can’t, I won’t.”

“Is that so?” Just then, Alan lunged at her, gripping her neck tightly as you were startled by the sound of her bag hitting the floor.

You stood up, shocked by the scene.

What should I do? What should I do?

You glanced at the bottle in your hand—there wasn’t a choice.

You came up behind him and brought the bottle crashing down on his head with all your might. "Let her go, you piece of shit!"

He staggered from the blow and released Lucy, who gasped for air as she fought to recover, coughing.

Alan groaned and placed his hands down for support, struggling to regain his balance as blood oozed from his head. In that instant, only one thought raced through your mind: grab Lucy’s wrist and run for the elevator.

It wasn’t exactly professional, but that didn’t matter right now. You just needed to escape. As you pressed the button for the elevator and selected the ground floor, Lucy looked at you, confusion etched on her face, trying to make sense of everything.

“He…” she croaked.

“No, no, he’s not dead. Don’t worry,” you replied, even though you couldn’t be entirely sure that was the truth.

“You saved me,” she whispered, nearly fainting, her face ghostly pale.

You gently touched her cheek. “Are you okay? Hang in there; we’re almost there. The police are outside. Don’t worry, I’ll ensure they call you an ambulance.”

As the elevator dinged and reached the ground floor, you used your private key—one the maids had access to—to lock it behind you before rushing out. Once in the lobby, you dialed Gerardo's number. "I've got the file. I locked Alan in; he can't escape. And we need an ambulance for a pregnant woman who was attacked here," you said, glancing at Lucy.

Lucy stared at you with wide eyes, mumbling. "Who exactly are you?"

Just then, police officers burst into the lobby, and a nervous laugh escaped you. "You mean right now? Well, I’m the girl who just saved your ass."

She smiled back in response.

Your statements were taken later at the police station, alongside Lucy's, after she was cleared by the medical team. Alan was officially apprehended, and thanks to your efforts, the police now had concrete evidence of his crimes. His offenses included attempted murder, leading to his detention until the upcoming court date. It felt like a weight had been lifted; after everything you had been through, you had finally succeeded.

Zoe and John arrived at the police station simultaneously, both concerned and surprised to see Lucy there. While you quickly filled her in on what had happened, John engaged Lucy in conversation, revealing why they had been seeing each other so much lately. Given Lucy's delicate situation, it was evident this had been a tough time for her.

The commissioner and his team came over to thank you, you missed seeing Harry watching you from a distance, filled with both concern and relief.

As he called your name, you turned to see him, his anxious voice resonating throughout the police station and catching everyone’s attention.

He hurried towards you, wrapping you tightly in his arms and pressing you against his chest. The moment felt even stranger than everything else you’d experienced leading up to this point.

“Are you really trying to kill me?” he grumbled, his hand resting on the back of your head.

“Sorry.”

But just then, he noticed Gerardo, pulling away and fixing an angry glare on him. “How dare you put the woman I love in danger?” he asked, stepping towards him. “Isn’t what you’ve done enough?”

Gerardo stayed silent.

The commissioner cut in, “Mr. Castillo, please remember you’re at a police station.”

Harry retorted, “I’m well aware of that. I’ll sue all of you. What if something had happened to her?”

“Your girlfriend agreed to help of her own free will. Neither Mr. Alvaro nor anyone else forced her.”

“Harry, they’re telling the truth. I asked to help.”

He turned to you, confusion etched on his face. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Zoe echoed, both of them looking for an explanation. John and Lucy were equally puzzled.

“I wanted to help them catch Alan.”

So, you recounted everything from the beginning but Harry's anger just wouldn’t subside. Just then, Maria arrived and quickly got up to speed on the situation. After a brief discussion with Gerardo, you bid them farewell. John took Lucy home, and Zoe decided to join them. Harry walked you to his car to take you home.

“What a day,” you murmured, resting your head on Harry’s shoulder, fatigue washing over you.

“You really are incredible. I can’t believe you had the courage to do something like that.”

“But it worked,” you said, smiling at him.

"You've obviously seen your fair share of James Bond films; otherwise, I couldn't explain your foolish bravery," he quipped.

"You know, being a spy must be a real challenge. I don't think they live long."

“Why do you say that?” he asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“When I was there, the fear of being caught was so intense I felt like my heart would burst. Living with that kind of stress every second can’t be good for the heart.”

“Thanks to you, I think my heart’s going to give out too; it raced all day, worrying about you. I was going crazy."

You gazed at him. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t my intention. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Hm, a kiss wouldn’t be a bad start,” he said teasingly.

You giggled and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. His frown melted away, replaced by a bright smile. “That felt nice,” he said, grinning.

“Our plans for tomorrow are still on, right?” you asked.

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“I don’t know; maybe you don’t like me anymore now that you know my secret agent identity. Perhaps you’re thinking of running away,” you teased.

He laughed and sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “You silly woman, nothing you do could make me give you up. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

You smiled back at him. "So, that means never then. ”

“Never, my love, never.”

Saturday evening in Paris.

As you gazed out the jet window at the enchanting city below, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, you couldn't help but smile and sigh. Coming back here with Harry felt both meaningful and unique—your emotions were deeper this time, infused with a renewed sense of hope that you would both make it home together.

Really together.

As the jet began its descent, Harry sat across from you, fastening his seatbelt.

“Are you hungry, baby?” he asked.

Considering you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, you nodded enthusiastically. “Starving,” you replied with a laugh.

He chuckled too. “Everything’s set. We’ll head straight to the restaurant while Oliver takes care of our bags at the hotel.”

You smiled as he reached out and held your hand.

“It’s going to be perfect this time. These next three days together will be so much better than before, I promise.”

“I know, and I believe that with all my heart,” you said, returning his smile.

His grip tightened around your hand until the jet touched down safely.

The restaurant where you dined that night offered the same breathtaking view as before, the Eiffel Tower standing beautifully in the distance. While enjoying dessert, Harry reminisced about the treats you had made — he claimed they were the best desserts he had ever tasted, and you both shared a hearty laugh.

Although you were both excited upon arriving at the hotel, exhaustion had set in. You missed him deeply, and the feeling was mutual—his body language spoke volumes of his love for you. But instead of giving in to desire that night, you chose to simply lie in bed in your bathrobes after a shower. This intimate moment held more significance for both of you than any physical act. You felt you were making real progress together.

In contrast to weeks ago, when your interactions were guided more by physical urges, tonight was about connection. You both wanted to enjoy the thrill of make-up sex, but not just yet; tonight was dedicated to understanding each other through quiet moments and meaningful glances.

As you shared a long laugh and finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, your heart felt content.

Upon waking to the warm light streaming into the spacious room, you suddenly realized it had been ages since you had slept so deeply for such a long stretch. As you stretched and lifted your head from the pillow, it struck you that Harry was nowhere to be found; the other side of the bed lay empty. That sight was unsettling. Where could he be?

Checking the clock, you noted it was around ten o'clock. “Wow, did I really sleep that long?” you murmured as you climbed out of bed. “Harry!”

The stillness of the room greeted you, your voice echoing back. Noticing his bathrobe draped over the chair, it was clear he had gotten dressed and slipped out. But where had he gone? You quickly grabbed your phone and called him.

“Good morning, Cinderella. I'm waiting for you near the Eiffel Tower. To find me, just follow the trail of flowers and breakfast,” Harry's voice rang with cheerfulness.

“Flowers? Breakfast? What do you mean? Harry—” But before you could finish your sentence, he hung up.

What the hell?

The Champ de Mars, where the Eiffel Tower stood, was vast—where exactly was he? Questions buzzed in your mind as you got ready. You slipped into a summer dress, perfect for the warm day, ran a comb through your hair, applied some light makeup, grabbed your bag, and made your way out of the room.

As you stepped outside the hotel, you were greeted by Oliver. “Ollie, what's going on?”

"Sorry, I’ve been told to keep quiet about it, and I really love my job."

You narrowed your eyes. "Harry's going to fire you? No way."

He chuckled. "I know it would’ve all fallen apart without me."

"Exactly," you said, laughing again.

"Go on, he’s waiting for you," he urged.

Was Harry planning a surprise?

Your curiosity piqued. As you stood in line to buy ticket for the Eiffel Tower, a man approached and handed you a red peony. "No need to buy a ticket, ma'am; it's already taken care of, this way," he said in a charming French accent.

"All right," you murmured, following his direction.

As you stepped towards the tower, a little girl handed you another peony. Moments later, a boy came up and handed you both a peony and a small package. "Bon appétit," he said in French.

"Thank you," you replied. Inside the package was a croissant that smelled absolutely divine, tempting you to take a bite.

Just as you did, another boy presented you with a steaming cup of coffee.

That’s when it clicked—you understood what Harry had meant.

Follow the flowers and breakfast.

But where was he?

One boy after another approached, and you felt a mix of excitement and intrigue. As your view of the tower opened up, flowers in hand along with your breakfast, you turned towards the voices behind you. The children who had gifted you the flowers were all happily following along.

You were surprised but found it delightful. A little further ahead, you finally spotted him.

Harry stood there, waiting for you in his light-brown jacket, his signature smile lighting up his face. "Welcome," he greeted as you reached him.

You smiled, responding.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was wonderful, but I wish we could have shared it together," you said, smiling at the kids surrounding you, though your expression was puzzled. "Harry, what’s going on?"

All the kids are now holding heart-shaped balloons, leaving you to gaze at them in wonder.

He gently took what was in your hand, handed it to one of the boys beside you, and turned back to you, taking your hands in his.

"I want to say a few things now. I hope it doesn't sound too cliché."

You laughed, shaking your head. He looked deeply into your eyes.

"My darling, my light, the moment I first saw you, I knew you were the one."

"Cliché," one of the kids chimed in.

You all burst into laughter.

"Give it another try, sir," a girl encouraged.

Harry sighed and cleraed his throat. "My love, you are the most beautiful, intelligent, resourceful, and extraordinary woman I know. Not a moment goes by that I don’t think of you. You’re a wonderful person—helpful, clever, and a bit stubborn and reckless all at once. You've pushed me to do things I never imagined possible, and the most thrilling and beautiful moments of my life began the day you walked into it. I could never have envisioned giving this speech in front of so many, thinking it was embarrassing, but now I realize it’s because I had never truly fallen in love before."

With a swift motion, he drew a small velvet box from the depths of his jacket pocket, and your breath caught in your throat as your heart began to race wildly. As he sank to one knee, a ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd surrounding you, their whispers filled with excitement and joy. With trembling hands, he carefully opened the box, unveiling a dazzling diamond ring -you saw it before- that sparkled brilliantly, reminiscent of a thousand stars scattered across the night sky, now glimmering in the warm embrace of the sunlight. Locking eyes with you, he said your full name. "I love you with my entire being, more than anything else, and I promise to love you for as long as I breathe. Will you honor me by becoming my wife?"

"Harry," you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

An intense fire dancing in his gaze, and spoke with a conviction that made time stand still. He uttered two simple words, often brushed off as clichés, yet they carried a world of meaning within.

"Marry me."

You could hardly find your voice, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Say yes! Say yes!" The crowd cheered, urging you on.

You both looked around, emotions bubbling up as you realized the moment was being witnessed by so many. "Just so you know, I hope you won’t say no—there are a lot of people with their phones out. This could be live on Instagram right now!"

Through your sniffles, you let out a laugh before taking a deep breath. “Yes! Harry Castillo, I will marry you. So, absolutely yes!”

At that moment, cheers erupted from the crowd, with a few whistles for good measure.

Harry stood up, slipped the ring onto your finger, and pulled you close, kissing you passionately.

The crowd erupted in applause.

The children's laughter rang out as they released red, heart-shaped balloons into the sky, the cheering surrounding you in a wave of joy.

You broke the kiss, gazing at the floating balloons and the crowd celebrating, then back into each other’s eyes, relishing this fairytale moment. Harry wiped your tears away just as you did the same for him, and you kissed again, more deeply this time, as if the world around you had faded away.

It was just the two of you.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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452 notes · View notes

slaybinnie · 2 months ago

Note

I loved your sieun fic, it was so cute and intimate..

do you mind doing something similar with suho but they make up after suho gets jealous over how much the reader is spending with a male classmate.. please and thank you🩷🩷

JEALOUS BABY

ׂ╰┈➤ suho x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), explicit language, jealousy lol, no protection used (sorry), slight communication avoidance, slight breeding kink (🤭)

about: suho feels that you’re spending a little too much time with your new classmate. he feels a little down about himself and avoids you.. but don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you.

note: anon! i'm so sorry it took me so long to answer. i've been so busy doing school work but im free now. here you go! hope you all love it < 3

╰┈➤ WORD COUNT: 4k

Suho trusted you. He really did, but Mingyu? Not so much.

Mingyu was the new transfer student at school and of course you just had to have an open seat next to you for him to sit in. Suho usually isn’t a jealous person. You have had guy friends, but this time it’s different.

Mingyu was tall, muscular, smart, not a fighter. Sometimes Suho felt that he couldn’t amount up to that. Even before you started dating Suho he’s been a fighter. Even though Suho only fought to defend, a hole still burns in his heart with the thought of you hating him for it.

The first week of Mingyu's arrival had been normal. You introduced him to your friend group and even helped him navigate the school. Suho had been nothing but supportive. That was just who Suho was. He was (usually) understanding and secure in your relationship.

But as the days of Mingyu being around turned into weeks, something shifted.

It was the little things that started to bother Suho. Mingyu would linger after class to ask you questions that seemed a lot more personal than academic. He'd save you a seat in the cafeteria when Suho was running late from his own classes. He'd even walk you to your locker when Suho couldn’t.

Suho noticed everything

“How was your day?” Suho asked one afternoon as you met him by the school gates.

“Good! Mingyu and I worked on the chemistry project during free period,” you said, adjusting your backpack strap. “Oh, and he asked if I wanted to go to that new bubble tea place downtown this weekend to continue working on it.”

Suho's jaw tightened subtly and his eyebrows furrowed. “This weekend?”

“Yeah, Saturday afternoon. The project is due Monday and we're nowhere near finished.” You looked at him with concern when you noticed his expression. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Suho replied quickly, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking we could spend Saturday together, but your project is more important.”

You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers. “We can do something Sunday? Or maybe you could come with us? I'm sure Mingyu wouldn't mind.”

The thought of watching Mingyu charm you for hours while pretending to focus on schoolwork made Suho's stomach hurt. Hell no. “No, it's fine. You two should focus on your project.”

That Saturday, Suho found himself walking past the bubble tea shop three times, each time catching glimpses of you and Mingyu through the window. The last time Suho walked past, he finally stopped and thought about what he was doing. Gosh, he had to look like a stalker, he thought.

Suho exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding before he forced himself to walk away.

Monday morning was supposed to be better, your presentation was finished and now Suho had you all to himself. Not. Your friendship with Mingyu had blossomed outside of a school environment. You couldn’t believe how much in common you had with him, and so couldn’t Suho.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of stolen glances and forced smiles. Suho watched as you and Mingyu discovered shared interests in everything. Every time you mentioned something new you'd learned about Mingyu, Suho felt a little piece of his confidence chip away.

“He's really funny,” you'd say after repeating some joke Mingyu had made during lunch. “You know the volunteer hours we have to do? He chose to volunteer at the animal shelter on weekends.”

Of course he did, Suho thought bitterly. Perfect Mingyu probably saved orphaned puppies in his spare time while Suho spent his weekends nursing his bruised knuckles and mopping restaurant floors for extra cash.

The breaking point for Suho came on a Thursday afternoon when he arrived at your usual meeting spot by the school gates to find you weren't there. He waited for fifteen minutes before his phone buzzed with a text.

Y/n: Baby! I’m so sorry! Mingyu needs me to go over a couple exam questions with him. Meet you at home instead?

Suho stared at the message, his chest tightening with an ache. This damn Mingyu guy. This isn’t the first time plans have changed because your friend needed help but Mingyu just irked Suho. He was jealous.

Instead of heading to your house, Suho found himself walking through the neighborhood, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his mind racing. By the time he finally knocked on your door, the sun was setting and his mood had soured.

“Suho!” You opened the door with a big smile. “I was wondering when you'd get here. Come in, I ordered your favorite food.”

He followed you inside quietly. “How was your talk with Mingyu?” Suho asked, trying to keep his voice calm as you both settled on the couch with your food.

“Oh, it was fine! I just explained why he got a couple answers wrong then we talked a little about music. He was telling me about this music festival he went to last summer. Apparently, some of my favorite artists were there. Small world, right?”

“Right. Small world.” He picked at his food, his appetite gone.

You sensed something was and sat down your fork and turned to face him fully. “Are you okay? You seem... down?”

Suho wanted to tell you everything. About how he felt like he was losing you, about how Mingyu seemed perfect in all the ways he wasn't, about how the thought of you realizing you deserve better kept him awake at night. Instead, he just shrugged.

“I'm fine.”

“Suho.” Your voice was gentle. “Talk to me.”

He looked at you and saw the genuine concern in your eyes. But instead of reassuring him, it only made him feel worse.

Before Suho could respond his phone buzzed. “A delivery, I got to go.”

You watched Suho grab his jacket and head for the door, confusion written all over your face. Something was definitely wrong, but he was shutting you out completely.

The next few days were torture for Suho. He kept showing up, kept being the supportive boyfriend, but there was a wall between you two that hadn't been there before. Every time you mentioned Mingyu's name, Suho felt that familiar twist in his chest. Why couldn’t he just tell you what was wrong?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell you. He just didn’t want to seem like a controlling boyfriend. This feeling was new territory for Suho. He'd never been the jealous type because he'd never had something this precious to lose before.

Friday afternoon, Suho was cleaning tables at the restaurant where he worked part-time when his phone buzzed.

Y/n: Movie night tonight? I miss you :(

His heart clenched. He missed you too, desperately. He had to make things right tonight. No matter how it makes him look.

Suho: I’ll be there after work. 10:30 PM.

Y/n: Yay! I love you I love you I love you.

Suho laughed at your reply and for the rest of his shift, he was thinking about you.

The clock on your living room wall read 10:45 PM when you heard Suho's familiar knock at your door. You'd been curled up on the couch in your favorite oversized sweater and soft shorts, having already set up snacks and a movie queued that you both loved.

“Hey,” you said softly as you opened the door, immediately noticing the tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was quieter than usual, his eyes softening the moment he saw you. Despite everything weighing on his mind, you still had that effect on him. He loved you.

You led him to the couch and he settled beside you.

“I picked a movie,” you said, reaching for the remote, but Suho's hand gently caught your wrist.

“Can we... can we just talk first?” His thumb traced small circles on your skin, a nervous habit you'd noticed over the months you'd been together.

You turned to face him fully, tucking one leg under you. “Of course. What's been going on, Suho? You've seemed a little upset this week.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring down at where his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. When he finally looked up, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made you frown.

“It's about Mingyu,” he said quietly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Mingyu from school? What about him?”

Suho took a deep breath, and you could see him gathering courage. “I've been... I've had this feeling in my chest. Like I can’t help but feel upset or annoyed when he’s around or when you talk about him. And I hate myself for it because I know you haven't done anything wrong. You're just being a good friend to him, the same way you are with everyone. But watching you two together, seeing how easily you connect with him.” He paused and bit his lip, searching for the right words. “It makes me feel like I'm not enough for you. I’m jealous of him.”

The confession hung in the air between you, and Suho immediately looked like he wanted to take it back. His hand started to pull away from your wrist, but you caught it, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Suho,” you said gently, your heart breaking a little at the pain in his voice. “Look at me.”

His eyes met yours again. “You think you're not enough for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, “He's everything I'm not. Smart, clean record, probably going to some fancy college. His biggest worry is probably which volunteer opportunity looks best on his resume, while I'm over here with fighting and doing part-time job barley getting by and trying to help my grandma with rent.”

“Stop.” Your voice was firm. “Don't talk about yourself like that.”

You shifted closer to him on the couch, bringing your free hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into your palm.

“Suho, you want to know what I see when I look at you?” you spoke as your thumb brushed along his cheekbone. “I see someone who only fights to protect people he cares about. I see someone who drives me home after late study sessions even when he's exhausted from work. I see someone who always makes sure I get home safely.”

“I see the person I fell in love with,” you whispered, then his eyes locked with yours

“I was feeling annoyed,” he admitted pouting, “Annoyed that he was getting your time and attention. You’re my baby only.”

And that’s your Suho. Playful and silly. You couldn't help but smile at his confession, the way he got possessive but still managed to be endearing about it. “Your baby only?” you teased gently, watching as a slight blush crept up his neck.

“Don't tease me,” he mumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I was being serious about the jealousy thing.”

“I know you were,” you said, your thumb still tracing gentle patterns on his cheek. “ I'm being serious too when I say you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Mingyu is just a friend, Suho. He could never be what you are to me.”

Suho's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. When he found none, his shoulders seemed to relax for the first time in weeks. “I feel stupid.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek “Can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded.

“I get jealous too. Do you know how many times I wanted to fight the girls and boys around us because of how they look at you? How they talk sweet to you.”

Suho pursed his lips and replied, “You shouldn’t get jealous, they’re not you.”

“Exactly my point,” You replied smiling.

The two of you stared at each other before Suho spoke again, “I’m sorry for how I treated you this week. It wasn’t fair to you. And I love you,” he said, the words carrying all the emotion he'd been holding back for days.

“I love you too,” you whispered back before his lips were on yours.

The kiss started soft, almost hesitant, as if he was asking for permission to be close to you again. But when you melted against him, your hands fisting his shirt to pull him closer.

“I'm never letting my insecurities make you worried again,” Suho murmured against your lips. “You're too important to me.”

“Good,” you breathed, trailing kisses along his jaw. “Because I was starting to go crazy without my boyfriend giving me proper attention.”

Suho pulled back slightly, a familiar spark coming to his eyes. “Proper attention? Are you saying I've been neglecting you?”

The playful tone in his voice made your stomach flutter with anticipation. “Very much so,” you said confidently.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken, “I guess I have to make it up to you.”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. The atmosphere in the room shifted into something more heated.

“Suho,” you whispered, your voice already breathless as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Hm?” he hummed against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I need you,” you admitted, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Come here,” he murmured, guiding you to straddle his lap properly. The new position brought you directly against him. You both gasped at the contact.

His hands slipped under your sweater, his palms warm against your skin as he slowly pushed the fabric up and over your head. You weren't wearing anything underneath. Suho's breath caught as he took in the sight of you.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands skimming up your sides to cup your breasts gently. “So perfect.”

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Suho…”

He leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “Let me show you,” he whispered between kisses, “let me show you how sorry I am.”

His mouth traveled lower, pressing gentle kisses to the swell of your breasts before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasped at the feeling, your hands tangling in his hair as he showered his attention on your nipples.

“You taste so sweet up here,” he murmured against you, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he moved to give the same attention to the other side. “I could spend hours doing this.”

The thought sent heat coursing through your body, and you tugged gently at his hair to bring his face back up to yours. “I want to feel you,” you whispered against his lips. “In me.”

Suho's eyes darkened at your words, but he didn’t want to go that far just yet. “Can I taste you first?”

“Yes. Please do something.”

He smiled, that soft, loving smile that was reserved just for you, before his lips were on your body again. Gently, he rolled you onto your back, positioning himself above you. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with desire as his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help him slide the shorts down your legs.

He took his time with you, pressing kisses to your exposed skin and his hands caressed your thighs. His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing teasingly close to where you needed him most.

“Suho, please,” You begged.

He groaned at your neediness. One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your folds, now slick with your arousal. He stroked you slowly at first, teasing, watching your reactions like they’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “All this for me, even after I was such a dick?”

Your hips buck against his hand in response, and Suho leaned up to kiss your throat, dragging his lips across your skin as his fingers finally pressed more firmly against your clit. When he finally settled between your legs all the way, his eyes found yours.

"I love you," he said simply, before his mouth was on your cunt to show you exactly how much he loved you.

His tongue slid through your folds slowly, like he was trying to savour the way you taste. Suho didn’t stop until he licked up every bit of your arousal and dragged his tongue all the way up your cunt, making your whole body jerk. The moan you let out was loud and desperate.

Suho glanced up at you through his lashes, his lips shiny. He offers you a soft, almost smug little smile.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he murmured, his voice thick and heavy. “My poor baby, I’m so dumb. I’ve been neglecting you this week huh?”

His words spark a new wave of heat through you. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Yes. Please. I need your mouth,” you whisper, tears starting to well in your eyes.

Suho groaned and the sound vibrated against you as he licked a long, slow stripe over your clit before wrapping his lips around it again.

Your head fell back against the pillows of the couch as your fingers tangled tighter in his hair. The knot in your stomach became relentless with every lick of his tongue.

“Suho. I'm gonna cum if you don’t stop.” your voice broke into a whimper.

He didn’t stop, instead he doubled down and lapped at your cunt faster. His tongue wrapped against your clit while two of his fingers slipped inside you with little resistance. The stretch made you cry out, and he moaned against you, like your pleasure was the only thing he needed to survive.

“Let go for me,” he whispered, fingers thrusting slowly, curling just right as his lips wrapped around your clit once more.

Your body shook as your orgasm hit and a sob of his name left your lips. Your thighs tightened around his head and you tried to push his head away, but you were too weak and Suho kept going, lapping as much cum up as he could.

“Suho, please! Too sensitive.” You pleaded.

Suho pulled off you with a pop, and gave your clit a soft kiss before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He kissed up your body until he was hovering over you, his eyes full with lust.

“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You nodded shakily against his lips, still catching your breath. “Y-Yeah.. I’m more than okay. I think I just had the best orgasm of my life.”

Suho chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re so perfect.” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing the weight of him against you. You could feel how hard he was, his length was throbbing against your thigh, and when you shifted, he let out a moan.

“Please, Suho. I want you inside me.”

Suho licked his lips and pulled back to take off his remaining clothes. When he pushed his pants and boxers down, his cock sprang free, thick and hard.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of him, and his mouth twitched into a smirk as he leaned back over you, catching your lips in a slow, heated kiss.

He reached between your bodies and guided himself to your entrance. He pushed in slowly and carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size. The stretch burned in the best way, your walls clenched around him as he filled you inch by inch until he was fully inside you.

“Fuck,” Suho whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re so warm. So tight.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, making sure he had no room to pull out. “Move, please,” you breathed.

Suho drew back slightly, then rolled his hips forward again, slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him. His pace was unhurried but intense, each thrust drew moans from your lips as he rocked into you. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your expression.

“Faster,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your nails dug into his shoulders.

Suho nodded then continued, his movements getting faster with every thrust. Your living room echoed with the sound of gasps, whispered names, and the quiet slap of skin on skin.

Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him to you, grounding yourself in the feeling of him. “Suho,” you moaned, fingers sliding into his hair, holding on as he moved faster.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You were made for me. You’re mine. I love you so much.”

Your eyes welled with tears, not from pain or even pleasure, but from the overwhelming love you felt from him. You lifted your hand to hold his jaw, brushing your thumb gently beneath his eye. Suho slowed down with your action.

“You’re the only man I want.” You cried out.

He smiled, a real one, the kind that reached his eyes and softened his tense face. “I know that now,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Suho rocked into you again, slow and deep and your body arched into his. His free hand slid between your bodies and his thumb brushed gently over your clit in slow circles that made your whole body jolt. You moaned softly, your hips rolling to meet his.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his breath warm against your cheek. “Do that again baby, roll into me.”

You let your hips move again, trying to match his rhythm but it was a little sloppy. Soon, you felt another wave building but this time it was softer and slower. “Suho… Suho,” you whispered, grabbing him tight. “I’m going to cum again…”

He rested his forehead against yours, “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His fingers moved faster on your clit, while his cock inside you dragged slow and deep. It was overwhelming for you in the best way. Your body burned in pleasure as you finally came, your whole body shaking.

You cried out his name and your legs trembled around him. Your hands were gripping his arms as your vision blurred. Suho held you close, slowing his movements, kissing your tears away.

You were still coming down when Suho groaned, his pace faltering. “I’m so fucking close,” he choked, burying his face in your neck. “Wanna come inside you.”

Your hips tilted up sloppily without thinking. “Do it,” you whispered, breathless.

Suho cursed under his breath and snapped his hips harder, deeper, his rhythm growing even more frantic and desperate. “Fuck. You’ll look so fucking pretty stuffed with my cum,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Want you to fill me up. Wanna feel all of you.” You begged.

That broke him and with a choked moan, he came, his hips pressed flush against yours as his cock twitched inside you.

You gasp and you felt his release inside of you. Your legs tightened around him automatically for the 100th time today, like your body was trying to keep every drop in.

Suho was out of breath above you, panting against your neck and quietly saying your name over and over.

“Fuck, you’re everything to me,” he whispered as he slowly pulled out of you, drawing a soft moan of out the both of you.

When the room fell into a peaceful quiet, Suho stood up then gently helped you up from the coach, guiding you to the bathroom. “Let’s take a bath.”

Suho ran the water while you sat on the bathroom counter, watching him with sleepy, content eyes. When the tub was finally full, Suho carefully helped you into it alongside himself.

“Is the temperature okay?” he asked softly, settling behind you so you could lean back against his chest.

You hummed in approval, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could feel the tension finally leaving both of your bodies.

“I really am sorry for how I’ve been acting. For this whole week I mean. For shutting you out instead of just talking to you,” Suho apologized.

“I’ll really accept your apology if you make sure to skip all your training sessions with Sieun next week and cuddle me instead,” you said.

“Deal.” Suho said smiling.

It got quiet again before you asked the questioned that was nipping at you a little bit, “How do you want me to deal with Mingyu?”

Suho was quiet for a moment, considering “I don’t want you to do anything,” he finally said, “He's your friend, and I trust you. I'm sorry I let my insecurities get in the way of that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was really okay.

“I'm sure,” he said, pressing another kiss to your head. “Besides, I realized something tonight.”

“What?”

“He might be smart and perfect and all that,” Suho said, his voice getting playful, "but he's not the one who gets to fuck you.”

You gasped and playfully hit his chest. “Suho!”

Done! My 2nd fic of whc! Thank you guys so much for reading 🥹 Thanks for all the love on my sieun fic as well!

I’d love for more people to rec any writing and request! I also write for the groups who are listed on my masterlist!

#weak hero class #whc #whc1 #whc2 #whc x reader #whc imagines #whc smut #whc1 x reader #ahn suho #ahn suho smut #suho #suho x reader #suho smut #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 1 smut #weak hero class smut #choi hyunwook smut

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bvtbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

Never Have I Ever // Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Since the party you were planning to attend got rained out, you and your best friend would have a party for two at his house. But, what happens when inhibitions are lost and lines crossed during a drinking game?

wc: ~4k

Author's note: Forewarning, there is minimal proof reading on this little one shot! I had a stroke of inspiration and used the results of a poll I held to morph the type of fic I was going to post! Thank you if you voted!

Warnings: My blog is 18+ so MDNI!! inebriated intercourse, p in v sex, oral (f receiving, face riding), handjobs, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), moaning, slight talk of Robin's sexuality and reader kissing a girl once, use of gendered language like girl and nicknames like dolly, no use of Y/N, only minorly proofed.

Masterlist

“You didn’t answer the question!” Eddie prodded.

Your plans to attend a bush party at Lover’s Lake was thwarted by an aggressive thunderstorm. You and your best friend decided to reserve the party for the two of you, a pizza, joint, and the flask of whiskey you were planning to tote to the lake. You lazed against Eddie’s side on the ratty futon under the modest awning attached to the Munson trailer. The joint paired well with listening to the rain pat on the tin roof, thunder sparsely underscoring your conversations. Your half baked idea of playing party games with the two of you would soon be your downfall.

“Let’s play never have I ever first” you propose. Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs at you. You throw a pointed look at him.

“What are you, twelve?”

“It’s a party! We said we have to play party games!” you whined.

“How are we gonna play this when I know, like, everything about you?” Eddie poked into your side. The few puffs of the joint you were both sharing already made you more giggly than normal. You squirmed away from Eddie’s body and sat facing him.

“Never have I ever…” Eddie watched your face twist into an adorable grimace. “Fuck, this might be harder than I thought.” Suddenly, your eyes lit up. “Oh! Okay, never have I ever drunk called an ex.” As close as you were, you and Eddie never talked about sex or girlfriends. Of course you were around for any of the girls he introduced you to, but you also knew that Eddie had a less than stellar reputation. the ' freak of hawkins high’ rarely had dates or serious girlfriends, but from his dealing and working at the Hideout, you only assumed there had been some escapades. A pang of jealousy hit your heart while you thought about someone else in Eddie’s bed, but you were curious. Did he have more experience than you? Was he curious about what you’d done? Were you willing to tell him? You tried to be nonchalant while you waited for Eddie’s response, but the questions kept swirling in your mind.

Eddie’s cheeks blushed as he put the beer can up to his mouth and took a swig. Your eyebrows raised in curious surprise.

“Who?” You blurted, almost desperate to know.

“That’s not part of the game, sweetheart.” Eddie quipped. A lopsided grin spreading from behind his can of beer. You rolled your eyes and sat back, waiting for Eddie’s question.

“Never have I ever… kissed someone of the same sex” You rolled your eyes as you swigged hastily at your beer. Eddie’s eyes doubled in size.

“Wait, what? Seriously?” He let out an impressed chuckle. You frowned at him and crossed your arms. He looked at you expectantly.

“It was fucking Heather Holloway in like softmore year and it was out of curiosity, you creep.” Eddie shook his head satisfyingly at you.

“I knew you were a freak.” He kicked at your crossed legs. You bit your lip in frustration. Fine, if Eddie wanted to get personal, you could get personal.

“Never have I ever been rejected by someone I really liked” your eyes bore into Eddie’s and you saw the rambunctious glint in his eyes dull. He lost eye contact with you as he took a sad sip of his beer. You instantly felt bad. Your hands and gaze fell to your lap.

“I thought you knew about this…” Eddie peeped. You violently shook your head. Eddie opened his mouth and shut it again, unsure of if he really wanted to tell you. He doubted it, but the looming anxiety that you would judge him, or use this as ammunition against him later. He fought the feelings and words came out like vomit.

“Carol Perkins. I… I asked her out when I was a junior and she was a senior. I thought I had seen her looking at me. Billy Hargrove, who I mistook as one of the outcasts - you know Hargrove - actively anti King Steve and the institution. He told me he overheard Carol talking about wanting to go out with me. So, I asked her…” Eddie took a sharp inhale “She laughed in my face and the next day I found a dead racoon in my locker. The basketball had stolen my stash and I was out a hellfire shirt and my month’s rent…” he still had the ability to let out a dry chuckle. “But that’s the day that I said fuck it all and started doing shit just for me, so I guess in a way I should thank them. If all of that shit didn’t happen I don’t think we would have started hanging out.” He flashes you a sad smile and you don’t know if it's the joint or the beer, but all you want to do is crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss the frown off his face.

“Anyways” Eddie cleared his throat “My turn..” Eddie’s face formed into a mischievous grin. “Never have I ever thought about sleeping with someone in our friend group.” Your face paled and you felt your stomach sink to your ass. Since senior year, you had formed fast friendships with your small circle. You thought of Eddie, Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan as family rather than friends. They were there for you more than your parents were. You did everything together. Thinking of one of them in a romantic way, more than friendship, that would be insane wouldn’t it? You felt your stomach tighten in anxiety and you raised the warming can of beer to your lips. The pats of rain seemed deafening. Your gaze flicked between Eddie’s surprised face and the gloomy parking lot.

“Okay, you can’t withhold this information from me,” Eddie said, all too excited to pick your brain. He needed to know if you had thought about him too. Fuck he thought to himself, I knew she had the hots for Harrington. Who doesn’t? His heart sank preemptively. You violently shook your head at him, followed by as many nopes as the air in your lungs could muster.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re killing me!” Eddie repositioned so he was sitting on his heels, right up and facing you, his eyes pleading. You crossed your arms, you weren’t budging.

“What if I ask a name and you drink if it's that person? Will you answer me?” Eddie begged.

“Never have I ever sold drugs,” your voice was pointed, hoping to get him to drink and take the hint.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Eddie prodded. “Will you drink if I say a name?” He took the joint from the ashtray and put it to your lips “Come onnnnnnnn! It’s just us, I’m not gonna say anything.” you rolled your eyes as you took the joint from Eddie and took a large inhale. He smiled at you wickedly.

“Okay, is it Byers?” you took another drag of the joint. Eddie eyed the hand holding your beer, watching for any twitches or inklings of your hand moving.

“Wheeler?” you scoffed and shook your head.

“Assuming Buckley is out of the question then… But does she know that you’ve swung both ways? She might be into it” You scoffed and hit Eddie on the shoulder while he snickered at you with a small ‘I’m kidding’

“So, then it’s obvious!” Eddie’s smile widened and your heart faltered.

“You are so in love with Steve Harrington!” Eddie closed his eyes and made fake kissy noises at you. To his surprise, he opened his eyes to see your cheeks furiously red, but the beer had not left your lap. Eddie looks at you confused.

“But that’s everyo-”

“You forgot one person, Munson.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You wanted the universe to swallow you whole.

“Wait, me?” Eddie seemed genuinely shocked. Your eyes locked and you brought the beer up to your lips, tilted your head all the way back and finished the remainder of what was in the can. You felt your body shaking. You threw the can to the ground and looked at Eddie. Desperate for him to say something.

“Your turn.” You flashed the boy a confused look. That’s all he wanted to say. You sat frozen and overwhelmed, unsure of what to say.

“Ask me the same question I just asked you” Eddie demanded. His voice was low and grovely.

“Never have I ever thought about sleep-” You couldn’t finish the question before Eddie’s lips were on his can of beer, following your suit and finishing the rest in a large chug. Your mouth opened in awe. Before you could say anything, Eddie threw his can to the ground and lunged to you, his hands finding your fiery cheeks and lips connecting with yours. His mouth felt searing on yours, like he was welding himself to you. Your breath was instantly robbed from your lungs. You couldn’t help but fall back on the futon, Eddie’s body trapping you underneath him. You kiss him back, feverishly, worried that if Eddie moved his lips too far away from yours that he would disappear and you would never get to kiss him again.

Eddie pulled his mouth from yours and you whined in protest. Your whimper dissolved in your throat as the mophead’s soft lips made purchase with the pulse point where your ear and jaw met. You felt Eddie’s smile pressed against you as you squirmed under his touch. In a swift movement, Eddie pulled himself back against the futon and pulled you on top of him, more than happy to meet your lips again when you straddled on top of him.

“I can’t even tell you how long I have wanted to do that” Eddie panted between kisses. You moaned at his words, granting him access to discover your mouth with his tongue. His hands ghosted down the sides of your torso to your hips and you bucked at his soft touch. He hissed at the friction of your denim clad core grinding against him.

“Eddie, I…” the boy shushed you, his eyes looked up to you, impossibly dark and pleading.

“Can I take you inside, please?” Eddie groveled. You obliged him with a nod and a smile. You squealed as Eddie stood up with you in his arms and he swung the front door open. The door closed with a slam and Eddie had you pressed against the cold door, the shock eliciting a sharp hiss from you that made a knot form in Eddie’s core.

His mouth found yours again, but his kiss was frantic, a gnash of tongue and teeth that led you panting, barely able to keep up. Eddie needed to show you how bad he wanted you. Your arms migrated around his neck and hands raked through his curls at the nape of his neck. His rumbly groan into your kiss swollen lips sent sparks through your veins. Eddie mouthed at the sides of your lips and trailed down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked an indigo bruise into your skin. You sighed in pain, and then in pleasure as Eddie licked over the offended skin. He traced sloppy kisses across the old v neck t-shirt you were wearing. Eddie pulled away and looked at you and thought he could cum right there. You already looked so fucked out: skin a rosy flush, freckles on display and chest heaving with need. You leaned forward at him, desperate to feel his lips back on yours.

“You’re perfect” Eddie whispered before reattaching his lips to yours. He swung you from the door and clumsily led you down the hallway to his room, only disconnecting from you to take short breaths. You both collapsed into the metalhead’s unmade bed. His room always felt like home to you. You had watched countless movies, read books, laughed and cried in this room. This felt like an extension of your own home; but now there was an unfamiliar threshold that you had crossed.

Eddie pulled at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for you to remove it. You obliged him and took it off, putting your bralette on display. You felt self conscious about your underwear choice, but Eddie looked at you like you hung the moon. He sent you a wicked smile that reminded you of your friend Eddie, not this interesting stranger sat in front of you.

“So, doll. You said you had dreams about us” He cooed as he prowled towards you. You backed yourself up until you were leaning against his wall, nipples threatening to poke through the thin fabric that concealed your decency. You nodded at him, already too kiss drunk and desperate to respond.

“Tell me what we did in your dream? What do you want me to do to you, princess?” Eddie’s growl went straight to your core and the tension you felt in your abdomen tightened impossibly.

“Everything, Eddie. Give me everything” you breathed.

“Well, I can’t do that with these on” Eddie tisked as he played with the metal button on your jeans. “Can I take those off you, doll? I think they’d look better on the floor anyways” You whimpered a yes as Eddie expertly slid your jeans down your thighs. Eddie felt his mouth water as he drank new parts of your body in. He studied the moles and freckles that he saw leading up your thighs, just in case you changed your mind and you never wanted to do this again.

His large hands trailed up and down your bare sides and an eruption of goosebumps formed on your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Eddie pushed a greedy kiss onto your lips before pushing himself down on the bed. His pupils dilated as he leveled himself with your clothed core.

“Eddie,” you pleaded, grabbing at the shoulders of his shirt.

“You feeling singled out, doll?” Eddie cooed as he pulled his shirt off. You had seen Eddie shirtless, plenty of times. But now, you noticed the small details. How his pecks subtly popped, dark black ink scrawled on his ribs. His skin was so pale you could see faint purple outlines of veins kissing his skin. You sat up to meet his torso, peppering it with kisses and small nibbles, feeling Eddie tensing in pleasure and hearing his soft moans as you kissed lower and lower. You grabbed for Eddie’s belt, but he grabbed your wrist in protest.

“I want to make this about you right now, doll” you pouted at his declaration. “Trust me, I’ll give you your chance to take my cock, but right now I just really need to see you - to taste you. Is that okay?” He was stern, but his eyes were soft, searching for any hesitation in your glowing eyes. You bit your lip in an anxiously excited smile. Eddie pushed you back into his pillows and he lowered himself back down to your heat. Your breathing had picked up and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Eddie set his hand on your pussy and you gasped in euphoria. Eddie’s smile put both of his dimples on display. He looked up with you in pride. He loved that he was able to make you feel this good already - fuck, he had barely touched you. With a small ‘fuck’ under his breath, he pressed the pad of his thumb into the crease where your clit rested, throbbing eagerly in anticipation. Eddie could feel how wet you were already and he couldn’t help but buck his hips into his mattress as you writhed at his touch. Eddie wished he could capture every sweet sound you were making so he could listen to you forever. He teased you by swirling tight, slow circles around your clit. He laughed when you gave him a flustered huff. You needed more, or else you might explode.

You were indulged as Eddie pulled your underwear down to reveal your waiting pussy. God, you had made a mess for him already. You wanted to cross your legs, to hide from him, but Eddie let out a pornographic moan as he spread your legs wider. You looked down to him, his brown eyes blown out, waiting for any protest before continuing. You sent him a lovestruck smile and he swiped his tongue against your slick core. Your eyes rolled back and Eddie hummed into you.

“So sweet, doll. So fucking sweet”

Eddie explored all of you with his tongue; reaching places you had never felt pleasure before. You could feel a rutting at the bottom of the bed, underscored by Eddie’s soft grunts. Whatever cool you had was fading fast; with Eddie’s assault on you, along with him chasing his own pleasure, the knot in your core was threatening to snap. You sang a chorus of pleases and yesses to the head of curls between your legs. You snaked your hand into his curls and tugged, frantically trying anything to ground yourself. Eddie groaned and pulled away from you, an almost evil smirk on his face.

“I want you to fuck my face doll. Show me just how you like it. Use me, please.” Eddie panted at you. He stuck his tongue back onto your quivering core and you instinctively bucked your hips. Eddie’s hand grabbed the wrist that was in his hair as an encouragement to use him as leverage. He happily stuck his tongue out flat to give you the most surface to play with.

You had never made the sounds you made on Eddie’s tongue; moans were borderline screams as your whole bloodstream flushed with lava.

“Good girl, dolly. Cum for me, please. Make yourself cum.” Eddie’s praises drove you over the edge and you felt a hot white rush flood your body. Your legs shook and your grip on Eddie’s hair loosened. Eddie continued to guide your hips in a small circular motion to guide you through your orgasm, happily lapping up all the essence you’d give him.

“Eddie, please, I need you” you had little strength in you to beg, but if you didn’t feel Eddie inside you, you thought you might die.

“You want that, honey? You want me to fuck you?”

“Eddie, I literally haven’t wanted anything more” You knew you would chide yourself later for the desperation, but Eddie didn’t care. He fumbled with his belt as you sat yourself up. Eddie looked at you quizzically when he peeled off his jeans.

“I want to ride you please, Eddie. If… if that’s okay.” Eddie’s smile could be contested only by the cheshire cat.

“Is that what you think about? Riding me?” Eddie almost giggled in glee - you saw another flash of the boy you were so proud to call your best friend; willing to tease, but looked at you like a piece of art. You coyly shook your head. Eddie sat himself against the wall and pulled his boxers down, exposing his painfully hard cock.

You hadn’t seen many in your life, and hardly knew what an exceptional cock was, but Eddie’s was the best you had ever seen. Length and Girth equally impressive, and a manicured bundle of hair set at the base. His upper thighs were decorated with more tattoos that you hadn’t seen before. You drank the metalhead’s body in before leaning in to touch him. It was Eddie’s turn to blush. He could tell from the shimmer in your eyes that you thought he was beautiful.

You tentatively wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and Eddie let go a long hiss while tipping his head back. He was so close already and it took all of his strength to ground himself. He bit his bottom lip until he swore he tasted blood. He couldn’t stand to watch you pump him, in fear of finishing way too quickly. He focused on his breath while you traced his length deliciously slowly.

“Honey, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you on top of me or else I’m not gonna make it.” Eddie let out a breathy chuckle. You swung your leg over his body and lined your entrance up with his weeping cock. He grabbed his base and guided his head through your slick folds - wet enough to lubricate his entrance. You looked to Eddie for permission to sink onto him and both of your chests wracked out loud moans as you fully sheathed him inside you. You stilled, getting used to the stretch; you leaned into Eddie’s pale torso, showering kisses across his chest and neck. His large hands captured your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss.

Something was different. Your kisses were desperate, explorative before. But you felt Eddie’s desire and longing for you. He told you with every move of his mouth how much you meant to him, how beautiful he thought you were and how much he wanted to spend all of his time with you. Your heart squeezed and you thought it may explode. Eddie pulled his mouth away from yours and steadied his hands on your hips in a tight grip. You watched Eddie concentrate while he looked at his dick sinking out of your cunt and disappearing into you again. Your heart flipped looking at his concentration. Eddie's brows were furrowed and his tongue poked out of his bottom lip - like it did most times he was deep in concentration. There was a sheen of sweat that formed on his forehead, making some of his rogue curls stick to his skin. He looked unreal, one of the most beautiful things you had seen in your life. Eddie bucked into you at an increasing pace, hitting spots that you could only wish your own fingers could reach. The boy’s pink lips parted in ecstasy as he began to fuck up into you harder.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna.. I-”

You planted your hands on Eddie's chest and grinded down on his hips, stilling his thrusts. His eyes flew open at you and he dug small crescent shapes into your sides. He choked out a pornographic sob as you rolled your hips. The slick of your own wetness added extra friction to Eddie’s abdomen, hurdling you closer to another orgasm. You grabbed Eddie’s chin, desperate to watch him unravel for you.

“Cum for me Eddie, I need to feel you” you tried to sound forceful and dominating, but with your own finish impending, you could barely get the words out. Tears pricked Eddie’s cheeks as waves of pleasure wracked his body. You could feel him twitching inside of you and it made your legs begin to shake. Suddenly, Eddie’s grip hardened and allowed him to fuck up into you, sending aftershocks through his own body and throwing you over the edge yet again.

You screamed out in pure pleasure, no other place for all the energy in your body to get out. You shook around Eddie as his face distorted in pleasure and overstimulation. You collapsed onto his chest, breathing matching Eddie’s hard pants. He pulled you over to his side with praises.

You both quieted and sat in contemplative silence. The only sound was the pounding rain continuing its barrage on Hawkins.

“Well?” Eddie finally broke the silence “Was it as good as you imagined it would be?” You rolled your eyes as he poked at your side.

“I’m never telling you anything ever again, Munson,” you joked. He took a dramatic breath and pretended to be offended.

“Well I never! You’re supposed to tell your boyfriend everything!”

“Boyfriend eh?” You blushed.

“Well, I feel at this point it’s only natural.” Eddie joked. He kissed you softly, carefully, as if your lips were rose petals. “And, I know we’re past playing never have I ever, but when I thought about you, it always ended up with you being my girlfriend.” Eddie shot you a nervous smile. His cheeks grew red.

“Well, I did say give me everything, didn’t I?”

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eightstarr · 10 months ago

Text

at the count of three — ellie williams.

summary: how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with them? ellie has an answer! just be cool and wait for the right moment— and the next. and maybe another one, just to be sure. if you get impatient, you can always take a deep breath and count to three! (years, that is)

warnings: slow burn (childhood friends to lovers <3), little bit suggestive but no smut!

notes: born from a piece of dialogue i wrote like, a year ago and completely forgot about but somehow a week later it's 4k words? idk you're welcome or i'm sorry!!! also yes they do spend almost every scene sitting together on a couch but that's what lesbianism is all about...

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

ONE!

A movie plays on the TV, a slightly tarnished DVD of an 80’s action flick starring some oily guy and the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen— Ellie doesn't remember much other than an obnoxiously epic soundtrack and lingering shots that made the plot twist too obvious about 20 minutes in.

She's freshly eighteen; you’re ahead only by a couple months. It's a warm Friday night, Joel and your dad in the kitchen putting scraps together for a mildly healthy dinner, Ellie sitting on the very opposite side of the couch from where you are. It’s hot, she'd said, looking away from your comically insulted face that grew with every scooch she made from your side, a lame excuse to save her from the newly found (and fucking torturous) fluttering that sparks in her stomach whenever she sits too close to you.

From the kitchen comes the sound of a can hitting the floor, followed by Joel’s 'shit!' and then quickly, 'sorry, girls'. You chuckle, turning to Ellie and catching her staring at you. A wrinkle forms between your eyebrows at the same time a pink warmth floods her cheeks. “Dude, you’re not even paying attention.”

“I am,” a scoff, her eyes now strictly committed to the screen. “The noise distracted me,” she adds, knowing it didn't even make her flinch from the careful study of your side profile.

“Scaredy cat— ow!” a pillow crashes against your cheek, sudden enough to shock you, too soft to do any real damage. “What the fuck?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows and looks at you from the corner of her eyes, a smirk half hidden by her hand. “Don’t be rude, you're missing the best scene.”

You throw the pillow back and scoff when she catches it, your lips slightly pursed, the signature sign to tell you’re annoyed. It's almost identical to the replica of that gesture that sits at the end of her last journal entry, an overly dedicated sketch born from a wandering thought. She could make it more accurate, she thinks now, soften the line of your jaw, take the scar on your cheek a little more to the left.

The sound of water splashing from the TV catches her attention and Ellie snaps her head forward (lest she get caught staring again), just as the blonde haired love interest is walking out of a fancy looking swimming pool.

“She’s hot,” you say, fingers pulling absentmindedly at loose threads on the rip of your jeans. When Ellie doesn't say anything, you turn to look at her, “You don't think so?”

Her voice comes out a higher pitch than she’d like. “What—” she clears her throat before continuing to mumble, “I don't know, I guess.”

You laugh. “You guess?”

“Yeah, I— I don't know, dude, I wasn't thinking about that.”

You watch the nervousness on her face, the gulp that passes her throat, the red under her freckles. Fondness tugs at your chest and your voice softens just slightly, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God. Ellie, it’s okay,” green eyes find your face and she sees you hesitate for a second before you shrug. “Who cares? It's just me.”

You make it sound easy. It's the most distinct thing Ellie remembers about this moment, how suddenly safety felt like the most obvious thing. TV light on your face, your arm over the back of the couch, the same eyes she's been looking at since she was fourteen. Of course it's okay. Everything else with you is easy, why wouldn't this be the same?

Ellie shifts on the couch, the distance between you turning quickly ridiculous— offensive, even. She’s embarrassed to have let her flusteredness get in the way, but the urge to be closer doesn't feel right either. Everything she does feels like too much, everything she says too intense. “How long have you known?” she asks.

You tilt your head, less of a question and more of a guidance, “Known that you…”

Ellie parts her lips, unsure of whether or not she’s gonna say it or how, trying to will the words to come out. And they do, she remembers it well, because it was the first and maybe the only time she was this direct about it. “That I like girls.”

The smile on your face is teeth-rotting sweet, but she only gets to bask in it for a second before you widen your eyes and lower your voice to a scandalized whisper. “You what?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, cheeks burning, “Oh, fuck you.”

Your laugh fills up the room and the fluttering in her stomach feels absurd at this point, like she would actually be able to feel those annoying little butterflies flying around if she were to press her hand against her abdomen. “Sorry, sorry,” you say, and for a terrifying second Ellie thinks maybe they're loud too, and you’re able to hear them. But then she looks at you and forgets about it, easy easy easy. “It’s really okay. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. For once, there's not a glimpse of doubt about it to be found.

You watch another ten minutes of the movie in silence before your dad's head peeks out from the kitchen to call you both to the table for dinner.

Ellie has a habit of eating like it's her last day on earth. When you were both new residents of Jackson, hungry and scared and not at all used to the idea of a full plate of food twice a day, she couldn't help it. And you were the same, hence why your dad thought it would be good for you and Ellie to spend time together, which quickly turned to being around each other basically every minute of every day. But as the weeks passed, you seemed to be learning to adapt faster. A younger Ellie found this frustrating— especially after that time Joel complimented your table manners.

You’re just… nicer, she remembers saying, a stressed frown on her still childlike face, fiddling with a box of marbles she’d found under her new bed. She remembers how you pulled one out, your fingers brushing against her own for the first time ever, and held the clear crystal with green stripes next to her eyes, a satisfied smile at a practically perfect match. You’re nice too, Els, you’d said, shrugging your shoulders, the marble shoved inside your pocket, I think I just lie better.

Until that moment, Ellie had never thought about it that way; the fact that you could be pretending to feel more confident and comfortable than you really are to make yourself safer, to get people to like you. But when she asked, you swore you had never lied to Ellie. She used to drive herself mad thinking about that, a strange, confusing worry gnawing at her chest— she likes that you don't feel the need to lie, but what does it say about how you see her? Is it that you don't care if she likes you? Or worse, is it that you know that she already does?

You sit in front of her today at the same dinner table, four years later, and watch her practically inhale her bowl of pasta like no time has passed at all. You let out a snort and Ellie wonders if you can see it even now, if her constant thoughts of you are obvious even when she looks this busy.

"What?" she asks, an immediate frown on her face, though she's done you the honor of swallowing her mouthful before speaking.

"You're so gross," you say, chin resting on your palm, tilting your head like you're looking at some thought provoking art piece. Ellie thinks you'll leave it at that, but then you reach over and swipe your thumb over the red spot of sauce next to the corner of her lips, so soft she barely feels it. You watch her frown soften for a second before it becomes even deeper.

Ellie feels like her whole body is exploding with warmth, too hot under the hoodie she's wearing, too pink across her face. It's so obvious, she thinks, it's so— fuck, pull it together. Her gaze follows your finger as you bring it to your lips and lick off the sauce. “You’re disgusting,” she retorts lamely, her hand rough when she brushes it over her mouth, lest you notice another stain and she has to watch you do that again.

You are familiarly not deterred by her meanness. Or her attempt at it. "And you eat like a five year old,” you shrug. “I guess we both have our issues."

Ellie catches herself staring at your hands for the rest of the meal, certain that she's never noticed them in the same way before. How much time has she been wasting? You both have your issues, you'd said, but Ellie thinks she has you beat. Yours can't possibly be anywhere near this dangerous.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

TWO!

Someone's knocking on her door. Ellie sniffles and lets out a groan as she gets up from the couch, sore throat, her limbs heavy and tired. She knows it's you because it's always the same three knocks; the first two firm and loud, a pause, and then one tiny one that sounds almost like 'sorry'. You’re impatient but still painfully afraid to be rude— if she loved you a little less, Ellie thinks she would make fun of it a lot more. But alas, she's cursed to smile at it every time.

She opens the door and the breeze that slips in makes her fall immediately into an embarrassing coughing fit. “It’s fine,” she mutters, at the same time you’re saying jesus christ, Ellie. “Shit. I’m okay,” she clears her throat and finally gets a moment to look at you, all pretty and put together in your best shirt and a freshly showered scent, the sun setting behind you like a perfect frame. Ellie prays her lungs don't betray her again and tries to make the brush of her hand over her messy hair look casual instead of desperate.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to the party with me for just a few minutes, but… I’m not sure you should be out of bed,” your worried frown is pretty, too. What a cruel fate. “Is Joel home? I can stay—”

“No, no, you’re good,” Ellie shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest like maybe it’ll cover up enough and you won't notice she was wearing the same long sleeve the last time you saw her. “He’ll be here in like, five minutes. I’ll be fine, ’m not a baby.”

You’re both nineteen by this time, Ellie remembers because you wore the same pretty blue shirt that you're wearing now for her birthday, and it was the day she realized her crush was no longer deniable. It's easier to act like nothing’s happening when she feels like she's alone in it, like there's no universe where you could love her like she loves you so she might as well let the fantasy die— but then you put on your shirt that's reserved for special occasions just to come over and bring her the cupcake you made, and suddenly Ellie can picture herself with her hands on each side of your waist, pulling you close, saying thank you with her lips brushing against yours before she kisses you. She can see it so clearly that it startles her, changes everything. Her birthday comes with a punch to the gut and a hunger she wants to tell you and only you about.

“You’re not gonna be bored? I really don't mind staying until he gets home.”

Ellie thinks (dramatically, extremely nineteen—) that if she lets you take care of her, she might actually die. It felt like she almost did last time you visited, your face serious with concentration as you pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. ‘You're warm’, you said, ‘do you feel sweaty?’ Ellie stared up at you, eyes glossy and heavy from sleep. ‘Not really’, her fingers sneaked out from under the blanket to wrap themselves around your forearm, a moment of bravery or delusion, ‘your hand feels nice’. You chuckled, ‘okay, keep it’.

She’s less feverish today, but not yet recovered from the greedy voice in her head that begs her to keep you close. If you don't go to the party now, she thinks (knows) that she’ll let herself casually talk you into staying the rest of the night. “Nah, don't miss your party,” she says. “I’ll be okay, Joel’s gonna teach me how to play that old card game.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you're gonna argue all night.”

“No— what?” Ellie scoffs. “It’ll be good, I learn fast.”

“Yeah, because you make up your own rules.”

“I have questions about the rules, that's not the same thing.”

“It is if you cheat—”

“I’m not a cheater!”

You hum, a curious tilt of your head, and Ellie rolls her eyes before the words are even out of your mouth. “No, I guess you’d have to have a girlfriend for that.”

You watch her run her tongue over her teeth, her shoulder against the door frame. “You know I could say the same to you, right?”

“Too bad I said it first,” you shrug, pretty smile stretching your lips. “I guess I'll go, then. I’ll come over when it's done so you don't miss me too much.”

Ellie tries to maintain her composure. You know, she thinks, do you know? You must know. You can't know— “Right. Also so you can steal my food and crash in my bed, I’m guessing.”

“When you’re all vulnerable and weak? What do you think of me, Ellie?” you frown sadly, a hand over your heart.

“I think I know you,” she says, the corner of her lips lifting just a little, inescapably.

You walk to the gate and turn around as you close the lock, your hands on either side of your mouth as if she’s miles and miles away. “I’ll take the couch!”

“Yeah, sure!” Ellie yells back, her voice pretty even when it's hoarse, knowing she’ll hold on for just about ten minutes before she insists you take the bed instead.

Joel stays awake with her until around 10pm, when his yawns become too many to hide and he’s already let Ellie win three games, his smile genuine and wide while she chuckles and pretends she doesn’t notice. He leaves her with a tupperware of soup for tomorrow’s lunch and a deck of cards. To teach your friends or— I don't know, keep on the coffee table, he’d said, make you look cool. Ellie’s not sure you would find a box of cards ‘cool’, but she’s not above trying.

Ever since she moved out to the garage, she’s discovered a new type of stress at the notion of having you over. At Joel’s house, all she ever did to prepare for guests was pick up the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor and put her books in a (wobbly) single pile. Now things are different. The garage is small, but it's all hers— her floor, her living room, her kitchen. She can't have you thinking that she can't take care of things on her own.

She spends the next hour moving things around until finally, two loud knocks. A second passes; Ellie looks at the cards and considers shoving them inside one of the drawers on her desk. By the time the one quiet knock comes, she shrugs and decides to leave them on the coffee table, lest Joel was right and she misses a chance to have you start thinking she's cool and mysterious. “It's open,” she says from the couch, tiredness soon catching up with her after all that time rearranging things.

The door opens and you come in, quickly closing it behind you, a relieved sigh at the loss of that crisp, cold breeze outside. “Did Joel forget those?” you ask, bent at the waist as you take your shoes off, your chin pointing at the deck, the only thing on the coffee table. Maybe she should've been more subtle with it.

“Uh, no,” Ellie scratches the back of her neck, her legs stretched across the couch. “They’re a gift.”

She's not sure you hear her over the groan you make as you stretch your arms above your head, her legs moved to the side automatically to make space for you to sit. You fall down with a sigh and both forget about the cards— you, distracted by the warm tingly feeling of a couple drinks, and Ellie by the new jacket you’re wearing.

She lets a million different scenarios spin around her head for a couple seconds before she blurts out the question. “Whose is that?”

“What?” you turn your head away from the movie playing on the TV.

“The jacket.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself as if you’ve just remembered it’s there. “Maya was leaving too, so she walked here with me. It’s hers.”

Ellie hums, her back sliding a little further down the couch, legs spread. “Stinks like it’s hers.”

You chuckle before you can help it, her animosity ridiculous and charming— Ellie’s better with actions than she is with words. “I don't even know what you're talking about,” you shake your head, not quite slurring, but not too far from it either. "She smells like strawberries."

Fuck Maya and her strawberry shampoo. Ellie could get some if she wanted to, maybe if she traded— what the fuck is she thinking about? She rolls her shoulders back and pushes the thoughts away, gluing her eyes to the screen. “Sure,” she says, less because she agrees and more because she doesn't wanna hear what else you like about Maya. “You had fun, then?”

“It was alright. You didn't miss out on too much,” the end of your sentence stretched out by a yawn, you cover your mouth lazily and rest back fully against the couch. “Jesse was drunk. They had to stop him from getting up on a table.”

Ellie chuckles. “I don't know, maybe he had something to say. I think I would’ve let him.”

“That's what I said,” you smile and let your head fall to the side, your cheek against the cushion. She feels you staring, enables it for a while by acting oblivious, falsely over-invested in some movie she can't remember the title of. She hears you move closer before she feels it— the shuffle of your clothes, the stupid jacket rubbing against her couch, so easily forgettable by the time your temple falls on her shoulder.

Ellie's about to fall asleep when she hears the little noise you make, something like a sniffle. For a worrying second she thinks she might’ve given you her cold, but then she feels the tip of your nose brush against her shoulder and she realizes you’re trying to breathe her in.

“You always smell nice,” you whisper, half asleep.

Ellie swallows and prays to keep her body completely still, scared she’ll make the wrong move and have you pull away, scared you’ll lean closer and be able to hear the fast beating on her chest. She sounds breathy, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Like fresh rain.”

Slow like the roll of credits playing on the TV, Ellie feels how every muscle in her body settles down, relaxed, content— fucking cocky. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and hopes the scent will rub off on the jacket and remind Maya of a cloudy autumn night, rain over her garden.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THREE!

"Do you think we would've liked each other?" you ask, your legs resting on her lap while she fidgets mindlessly with the ruffled cuff of your socks. Every patrol lately ends the exact same way, a quiet walk home and a joint on Ellie’s couch. "Back when the world was normal?”

Ellie turns to look at you, blinking lazily, a reddish hue over her green. You’re not sure if she's more tired or high, but either way you're not doing much better— everything you’ve said during the past hour is the kind of thought you have when you're alone at night and your brain wanders, moments away from falling asleep. It's a meaningless question, but Ellie lets out a soft hum and thinks about it like it's worth considering. You're not sure if anyone you’ve met in your whole twenty years of life is as willing to indulge you as she is.

"Yeah," she says decidedly, in the same tone with which one would say duh. "We—" a yawn cuts her off, slender hand rubbing one of her eyes. "We would be friends, like, in college."

"I wouldn't be in college.”

Ellie frowns, takes one last inhale and discards the joint to the ashtray on her coffee table. "Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not smart like you," you shrug.

The fold between her eyebrows deepens. "You're smart," she argues, with enough conviction that you almost believe her, insisting, "You are."

"In other ways, sure—” Ellie opens her mouth to interrupt but you get ahead of her, “I’m not trying to talk badly about myself, I just don't think college would be for me.”

You’ve never been the most disciplined. It’s hard to imagine yourself staying up late to study, taking diligent notes in class. It feels ridiculous.

“I’d be working somewhere, I think. Making coffee for people or something.”

Ellie pauses before she nods, adjusting her daydream to what you’re saying, strangely committed. "Then we would meet there,” she makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, a natural equation. “I'd go get coffee from you."

You chuckle. "You don't even like coffee that much."

Ellie shrugs, soft pink lips curved in a smirk that tells you she's sleepy and serves to warn you of the horror that's about to come out of her mouth.

You groan. “Don't—”

"Maybe I like the pretty girl that's making it."

“Awful,” you push her shoulder away, barely any force behind it, her giggles swimming comfortably around your head. “Never speak again.”

"Not my best work?" she asks, her fingers wrapping lazily around your shin. Too much, her brain warns, but then she remembers the pad of your finger over the back of her hand last night, the cursive lines with no purpose other than to be touching her— and it feels right, or like it's not enough. Too much soon turns to coward.

"Possibly your worst.”

She might be going crazy, but lately Ellie feels like you’re looking at her differently. In your eyes there's something gentle, awaiting, a tracing of your eyes over her face that says please. She chews on her lip, her eagerness painful. “We would like each other,” she doesn't think there's a world where you wouldn't, and if there was… "I'd make you like me."

You raise your eyebrows, teasing, "Oh, so like now?"

Her lips part with genuine surprise, more amused than offended. “...I made you, huh?”

You regret the joke as soon as it comes out of your mouth, immediately brought back to your fourteen year old self, lonely and admittedly captivated by the auburn haired girl from next door. Flashes of you rushing to catch up with her, untied laces on your too tight sneakers, Ellie, do you wanna be friends? The sound of pages shuffling and her voice reading in whispers in the dead of night because you asked, can you talk to me until I fall asleep? Infatuated from the beginning, obsessed. Even now, on her couch, after spending a whole day together— do you like me? Would you like me, always?

A pillow crashes against the side of her face, her laugh almost louder than the embarrassed pounding of your heart. You pull your legs from her lap and lie back, fold your arms over your face. “You're so annoying.”

A lie so obvious it makes Ellie smile. She shifts to crawl closer, one knee on either side of you. “C’mon, I was joking,” she leans forward and you feel her knuckles tap your arm like she’s knocking on a door. The power to make you shy is still foreign to her, makes her feel drunk, thrilled. She doesn't remember having it before, but of course it was there. In little ways, in daily, simple things. Your eyes always looking for her first in any room, lighting up even after an especially bad pun, tracing her arms when the day becomes too hot to keep her jacket on. You like her, of course. How much time has she been wasting? The breath she lets out feels like it's been waiting to be let go, years spent stuck in her lungs. Ellie wraps her fingers around one of your wrists, her voice sweet, achingly soft. “Want me to tell you why I know I’d like you?”

You lower your arms just slightly, eyes peering up at her.

“Yeah?” she tilts her head.

You nod, arms coming down, unusually quiet.

Ellie grins, victorious. “Okay, but fair warning— it's worse than the coffee thing.”

You chuckle. “Is it?”

“Very.”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think about it, distracted by the vision of her practically sitting on top of you. Freckled face framed by the hair that's escaped her usual bun, softly lit by the warmth of the lamp on her desk. “Alright,” you say finally.

It takes Ellie a second to respond, momentarily dazed by the thought of being pretty enough for you to ogle like this. She clears her throat. “You ready?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and away from her eyes. “Sure.”

Ellie waits for the nerves to come, but even as she parts her lips to speak, they never do. What a kind fate. “I know I’d like you because nothing’s ever made more sense to me— I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. I like you enough for a million lifetimes.”

You look at each other, bask in a moment of understanding. Your eyes on her lips, a hand on her waist that pulls her closer. “That was worse,” you agree.

Ellie moves to rest on her forearms, cages you in, her nose brushing against yours. “I told you.”

She waits, feels herself count once again, a final time, one, two—

A hand against the back of her neck brings her in and the quiet noise of her surprise vibrates against your lips, makes her smile into the kiss for just a second before the hunger takes over. Her hips readjusting over yours, knees pressing against your sides, Ellie kisses like it's a need rather than a whim. She takes and takes and swallows every sigh you make like it's a gift, four, five, six seconds of a messy trail of kisses down your neck to say thank you before she resurfaces again.

“Love you,” she breathes out, because suddenly all that talk about ‘like’ feels stupid— immature, incomparable to what she actually feels for you. “Need you.”

You moan against her lips and it's her favorite sound in the whole world, immediately, as quick as realizing she would fall in love with you the day she met you. “Love you, Ellie.”

A kiss to your clavicle, your hands pulling at her shirt and her thigh between yours. She makes you say it three more times.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #loser!ellie #ellie williams fanfic

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hivemuthur · 5 months ago

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request where viktorxfemale reader and reader is very shy and hides her face/closes her eyes all the time during sex, maybe when she is not having sex she is more braty/confident. like when she is covering her face viktor forces her to look at him.

Hi Anon! Here's your request:

Mind Holds The Key

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! soft dom Viktor, from warnings we could throw in light orgasm denial and many of my recent works have praise kink, it snuck its way to here as well :v

word count: 4K

author’s note: Title from My Body Is A Cage song (like, it perfectly depicts what Reader might be feeling).

artist on X

—

It happens every time.

You release a breath when his head dips into the crook of your neck—what a blessing. A moment of reprieve, in which teeth meet skin, and you can slide your hand from his back to shield your eyes.

Before he knows it, you come undone, and Viktor follows, searching for your gaze that’s nowhere to be found. Instead of the two big eyes he longs to see, all he gets are your knuckles—five little peepers acting as a barrier between you. It makes him feel lonely.

At first, he doesn’t quite catch it. Could be that you’re so overtaken with pleasure that your body acts on instinct, independent of your mind. Could be that you’re shy—though that hardly aligns with the way you carry yourself day to day. Could be that his bedroom face is outright hideous, but he fucks you so well you don’t have the heart to tell him. Could be plenty of things, some of which he doesn’t dare to entertain.

At first, he tries peacefully—gentle handholding, nuzzling, foreheads touching. But as soon as he stops you from covering your face, you simply close your eyes instead. Or, if he noses at you, you nose him back, and though he can’t see, he knows by the tickle of your eyelashes against his cheek that your lids are squeezed shut.

Until today.

The setup is nearly perfect—you straddling him, arms caged in by his, no space left between you to hide. Yet, just as your face starts to wrinkle in that beautiful way he adores, you find a way out. You dip your head into the small gap between you, leaving only the parting of your hair in his view.

So he stops.

Moreover, he untangles his arms from you completely, making you whine at the loss of contact and, worse, the loss of your impending orgasm as his hands still your hips. And maybe it isn’t entirely worth it, but at least now you’re looking at him. Your lips part at the sight.

There’s something vulnerable in the way he stares at you—wounded, raw. A flicker of fear flashes across your chest.

You cup his cheeks, your voice quick and searching. “Are you in pain?”

He exhales sharply, eyes darting down. “Am I so horrendous to look at?” His fingers twitch at your sides, but his grip remains loose, as if he’s suddenly unsure whether to hold you at all.

Your brows pinch together in disbelief. “Viktor… you are gorgeous. What are you talking about?”

Some of the lead in his stomach melts away at that. So, it isn’t his face. “Then why won’t you ever look at me?”

“I…” Shit. That didn’t take long. “I am…” You try to wiggle your way out of it, avoiding the weight of his scrutiny, but ultimately, you give up with a small, quiet, “… shy.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, his shoulders shaking. “Lásko, you are many things, and shy is not one of them.” His mind flickers back to all the times you’ve been anything but—bratty, teasing, unafraid to push him.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I am a shy lover,” you whisper weakly, and at that, Viktor twitches inside you. His fingers flex against your wrists, his gaze heavy with thought.

Then, his eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, and he asks, almost stupidly, “Why?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. He watches you, waiting for an answer, and his voice softens when he adds, “What makes you embarrassed?”

You groan in frustration, covering your eyes again as if to hide from him. “I don’t know... It’s like... oh, having an autopsy, for lack of better words. An autopsy of the soul. I can’t stand it.”

Viktor pauses, his expression thoughtful, before he leans in, his voice low and inviting. “Would you be willing to… experiment?” The edge of a smirk plays at his lips.

You narrow your eyes, scepticism rising. “Does your experiment include torture?”

He hums, tilting his head in playful consideration. “Eh… maybe a little.” His hand moves to rest gently on your cheek, a soft brush of his thumb has you blushing. “Hopefully,” he murmurs, his touch tender, “it will get the key from here.” A finger is pressed to your forehead. “To unlock this.” His finger then moves to point directly at your heart.

At the sight of your questioning eyes, excitement surges through him. Another thing to unravel about you—how thrilling. He almost doesn’t want to leave the warmth you’ve enveloped him in, but the urge to explore and understand is stronger. So, with a small nudge of his hips, he says, “Up, up.”

A groan escapes him when you slide off and shimmy up against the headboard. You hug your knees, awaiting instructions, and Viktor—oh, his eyes glint the same way they do when he’s on the brink of something, just this time, love and affection seep through the scientific interest.

He nestles beside you, smiling at the hungry glances you steal toward his thighs. He presses a kiss to your neck, a caress to your calves, before whispering, “Relax. Open your legs for me.”

Like a rusty hinge, you part your thighs—barely enough to accommodate his palm. He nudges your knees further apart until one rests against his leg, the other sinking into the covers. A warm, flat palm runs up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and already, you shudder and squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, none of that,” Viktor chides, and the fingers that had caressed you come to wrap around your throat—a gentle touch, guiding. “If you stop looking, I stop touching. Do you understand?”

You nod timidly, and Viktor tsks. “Words?”

“I understand,” you murmur.

“Very well.” One last soft kiss, before his hand slides down your torso, back between your legs.

His touch is gentle at first, fingers teasing along your seam, inquisitive and exact. He finds your clit easily and you gasp at the first press, coaxing a grateful smile to Viktor’s lips. He watches your expressions shifting from the tremble of your lips to your brows pulling together with a serious face, studying and memorizing you. Three thoughtful fingers rub your pussy around, nudging the spot you want him at the most with each movement, and your stomach begins to coil with heat. Your thighs shift from idle rest to being spread apart with intent, and your hand braces against his stomach. His eyes remain on you, darkening with each broken gasp that escapes your lips.

This is truly horrendous. Pleasure knots in your chest, tangled with a fear that comes from an unknown place. There’s no hiding from him like this, and for a moment, you don’t even try. Your body freezes—caught between fight and flight—and you force yourself not to blink. Your eyes glaze over, breaths come in shallow gasps, and you don’t know if it’s the fear of losing his touch or of being seen like this.

“There you are,” he murmurs, and he means your gaze. You realise you’ve been looking at him, truly looking, and the thought makes your stomach twist.

It’s too much.

The closer you get, the heavier the shame coils in your chest. Like a hand gripping your throat, squeezing until every reaction feels unbearably raw, exposed. Your body betrays you—hips rolling into his touch, thighs twitching under his hand, voice catching in soft, needy sounds. And Viktor, he drinks it in with dark, fascinated eyes, his other hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, squeezing affectionately.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

But you do.

Because the heat rising isn’t just pleasure—it’s mortification, vulnerability crackling over your skin. It builds and builds, cresting unbearably high, and just as the wave is about to break, your hand shoots up, shielding your face in a blind, instinctive act of self-preservation.

The loss is instant.

Viktor’s hand retreats from between your legs, leaving you aching and throbbing. Your breath stutters, body jolting at the sudden lack of touch. It takes you a moment to realise why—why the bliss has been so abruptly stolen from you. And when you do, your stomach drops.

You peek through your fingers to find him watching you, expression unreadable but firm. His hand hovers over your lower belly, waiting. Viktor doesn’t speak. He simply watches you, patient and ready.

It’s your choice.

Slowly, hesitantly, your fingers slip from your face, down to your chest, over your ribs, clutching at the sheets instead. You force yourself to look at him.

Viktor smiles, pleased. He brings a hand back to your thigh, thumb stroking the inside in a slow, grounding motion. He leans in, lips ghosting over your cheek.

"Good girl," he whispers before giving back what he took away—and more.

Oh, and his hand comes right where you need it, sliding between your thick lips with ease, gathering your wetness with a slick sound as he pushes a finger inside you. He moves in and out slowly, adds another, and drinks in the sight of your mouth falling open, your eyes locked onto his.

Viktor tells himself this is not about him, that this is about you—about him holding your hand as you battle something unnecessary within yourself. And yet, he cannot help the way his hips rut into your thigh, the heavy press of his cock against your flesh. It is so very hot, this soul-baring unravelling of yours, that he almost allows you to close your eyes for a second too long.

A gentle tsk of his tongue brings you back, and to keep your hands from twitching, you clasp one against his cheek while the other rests at his waist.

You focus on the feeling, on the rhythm. You rock your hips to meet him, the heel of his palm catching your clit with each slide of his fingers, and the familiar pressure returns. Your eyes itch to go shut, the skin of your hand tingles, and you wonder if it’s contagious—if Viktor’s skin will prickle in goosebumps because of you. A strangled sound escapes you, discomfort bleeding into pleasure, and Viktor is there to guide you through it.

"Stay with me, almost there," he coos, brushing his nose against yours.

You press your foreheads together, cross your eyes to keep them fixed on his, and he is so grateful. Pride softens his face as he murmurs lovingly, "You are doing so well."

It’s almost easy like this. Something shifts.

The tension in your chest doesn’t vanish, but loosens, just enough for you to take a deeper breath. With Viktor’s forehead pressed to yours, his voice low and steady, his touch never faltering, the fear that once curled around being seen begins to unravel.

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling in quick succession, and when your lips part, your voice is barely there. “More.”

The word spills into his mouth, and Viktor drinks it all up. His breath hitches, a tremor runs through him, and for a brief moment, he closes his eyes, overcome by something he cannot name. When he looks at you again, it is with a hunger edged in devotion.

“Oh, lásko,” he breathes, and his fingers move with new purpose. His palm catches your clit just right, his rhythm unfaltering. “You are—ah—so good for me.”

Your body tightens in response. You can hear him now—not just his words, but the small, ruined sounds he makes when you clench around his fingers. He moans when you do, his hips pressing just a little harder into your thigh, like he cannot help himself.

“You feel—” He swallows a groan, his hand flexing at your waist. “So perfect like this. My girl.”

A fresh wave of pleasure crashes over you. You chase it without hesitation, without shame. Viktor sees it—feels it—the way you arch, the way your nails press into his skin. His praise comes unfiltered now, spoken through shaky breaths, his own pleasure evident in the rasp of his voice.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his fingers curling deep. “You are taking me so well. Stay with me, stay—”

You do. You do, because somehow, with him, it’s easier.

The tension coils tight, unbearably so, and your breath is gone from your lungs. He feels it—sees it—his free hand tightening around your neck, his forehead still pressed to yours. His lips part, his eyes burn into yours, and when you finally break, it is with him watching you, holding you, staring into your soul.

You shudder, a soft cry spilling from your lips, and Viktor groans—low and guttural—as he works you through it, whispering your name, a quiet thank you falling in between.

“And that’s a sight to behold,” he says finally, his voice rough with need. “Thank you, my love.”

You smile faintly, still feeling the aftershocks, but your playful side returns. “Sorry, did you think we are done now?” You curl your legs up, wrapping your arms around him, pressing a kiss just under his ear, feeling the heat of his skin against yours.

“Oh?” Viktor’s breath hitches as he feels the press of your lips on him. It seems that through being lost in your head, you missed all the pretty faces he makes. You run your finger up and down his length, watching how his body reacts to your touch, feeling the contrast between tenderness and the lingering ache of want.

You meet his gaze, your voice meant to be teasing but it’s a plea. “Would you be willing to experiment further?”

Viktor’s pulse quickens at your words, his body taut and ardent when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, and then he rolls over, trapping you beneath him. His lips find yours in a kiss that is deep, desperate, and full of hunger.

“Yes, yes, please,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice longing. He kisses you again and again, his lips trailing across your face, worshipping the skin beneath them as he murmurs praises, each one an attempt to convey what he's feeling, almost successful.

To see and to be seen—what a feeling, you think. What a tremendous thing it is to have your heart unlocked with the key his fingers plucked from your mind. Crushing.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests

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