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wannabehockeygf · 1 month

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greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”

#vancouver canucks #quinn hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #qh43 #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #qh43 x Reader

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fandoms-x-reader · 2 months

Text

Not So Private Time

Requested By: @f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers' can use the magic of the pact to make you feel things that they are doing to themselves. NSFW / 18+

Lucifer knew everything there was to know about pacts. He had been the one who was entrusted with the demon grimoire after all. And that book was a guide to everything about demons - including pacts.

Lucifer made it a point to read about the pact with a human, especially after making one with you. He wanted to know exactly how he could use it to his advantage.

That’s when he found out about the connection between you and him where whenever he was having fun with himself you would feel it too.

Lucifer’s head was immediately filled with ideas on when and where he could use this trick. He would never have to worry about you spending too much time with Mammon or Satan filling your head with lies about him.

Because if he even sensed this, he had a way to bring you back to him. A way to make you cry out for him. A way to make it known who was the one who could give you the best pleasure.

Lucifer wouldn’t use it when Diavolo was around. He wouldn’t risk his position in the student council for some teasing. But, outside of RAD, all bets were off the table.

You were watching a movie with the other brothers while you waited for Lucifer to be done with his paperwork.

He had spent the entire night in his study, claiming that he had to catch up on the paperwork or else “he’d be in trouble”.

Like Diavolo would ever be mad at Lucifer.

Still, you respected his responsibilities and distracted yourself by spending time with the others while you waited for him to be done.

But, when he finished with his paperwork, he couldn’t call you up to his room like a normal person. Oh, no. He wanted you to want to come to his room. To need to come to his room.

So, he decided to tease you a bit, taking things slow. You were a blushing mess when you realized what was happening and what you were feeling.

But you were in a room full of demons and it would be impossible to escape without them knowing.

Your growing pleasure didn’t leave you much of a choice though.

You did your best to not let anything on as you stood up from the couch much to the dismay of the others. “Sorry, guys. Lucifer texted me and asked to go to his room,” you told them, biting your lip as your voice threatened to betray your facade.

“But, how do you know? Your D.D.D. is over here by me,” Beel asked, confused. Well, that cover was blown.

You didn’t have time to argue with them though as you were on the verge of coming undone. “I just do,” you practically snapped back, snatching your D.D.D. and rushing to the eldest’s room.

The words came out a little harsher than you meant them but you needed Lucifer. Right now.

Lucifer left his door ajar knowing exactly what would happen the second he started this endeavor. How confident.

You couldn’t argue with it though as you barged in, locking the door behind you. Lucifer was eagerly waiting for you and you wasted no time joining him on the bed, letting him pleasure you for real this time not just through your shared connection.

Mammon let out a small sigh as he continued to scroll through the pictures he had of you on his phone.

There were so many pictures that he had taken of you. His human. He would never get tired of looking at them.

You had decided to take a trip up to the human world with Solomon and Mammon was missing you like crazy.

He couldn’t help but feel jealous as he thought about Solomon being up there with you, being able to do all of the things that he wanted to do with you.

Well - almost - all of the things. There was one thing that Solomon couldn’t do.

He hadn’t meant to get so turned on. But, looking at the pictures of you made Mammon desperate. And although he would prefer to have you there with him to help him with his current problem, he just needed some sort of relief.

He knew you would feel it. That was one of the many reasons Mammon loved being in a pact with you. Even if you were having a blast up in the human world, he had a surefire way to get you to think about him.

You and Solomon had a long day of many activities and you were tired.

The two of you had just gotten to the hotel you were staying in for the night. You made sure to ask for separate rooms, knowing that if the demon brothers’ - one in particular - found out that you and Solomon had shared a room, they would lose their mind.

Solomon walked you to your room and stopped right outside the door. The two of you had planned to watch a movie together to end the night before you went your separate ways.

But as soon as your hand touched the handle of the door, you felt a familiar jolt of pleasure.

“Is everything alright?” Solomon asked, noticing how uncomfortable you had suddenly gotten. The pleasure you were feeling only began to grow more and more and you did your best to hide it.

“Sorry, Solomon, we’re going to have to reschedule our movie night,” you told him, doing your best to control your breathing.

“No problem, but are you sure you’re alright?” Solomon asked you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, swiftly entering the room and shutting the door as soon as you spoke the words.

You felt a little bad for practically slamming the door in his face, but you need privacy right now.

You made your way to the bed, collapsing down onto it as Mammon took his time edging you closer and closer to your climax.

When you finally hit it, you let out a moan of pleasure and although you were feeling satisfied, it made you miss Mammon’s touch and the way he would kiss you.

You searched for D.D.D. and immediately sent him a text message saying, “Solomon and I are going to be cutting our trip short.”

Mammon couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips as he read your message. He couldn’t wait to see you and do those things in person.

Levi was incredibly embarrassed the first time he found out about this connection with you through the pact.

You had been out doing other things when Levi got turned on. And, he just needed some relief. So, he locked the door to his room and did just that.

When you came home and told him that you felt everything he did, Levi was mortified. How was he supposed to have private time if you knew every single time he did it?!

He swore it off for a while. But he is the Avatar of Envy and he quickly realized he could use that little trick to his advantage whenever someone was crossing the line with you. Just to keep himself at the forefront of your mind.

Whenever you were talking to someone who was standing a little close to you or Levi just didn’t seem to trust them, he would use the pact.

If it was something small, then he would merely tease you with it. Just enough to have you promptly leave the other person’s company to come and find him.

But if he felt like someone was actually overstepping their boundaries. He would use it until you were shaking from pleasure.

Which was exactly the predicament you were in now.

Asmo had asked you to go shopping with him. There was an event coming up and he wanted to choose your outfit. You gladly accepted, not thinking anything of it.

Levi had seen you walking around town with Asmo and couldn’t help but watch. You could never be too careful with Asmo.

That point was proven when you went into a specific store with him. He had you try on multiple different outfits until you found the perfect one.

When you finally did, Asmo let out a squeal of joy and then placed a kiss on your cheek. Asmo was an affectionate person. You knew he gave small kisses and hugs whenever he could - to anyone.

Levi knew that too; but, his feelings for you were clouding his judgment as the image of Asmo’s lips on your cheek was burned into his mind.

You didn’t even know Levi had seen the whole ordeal until you went into the dressing room to change and suddenly got turned on.

You instantly knew then that he had been nearby. And you knew the situation was only going to escalate.

The dressing room was your best option. Leaving it would risk further embarrassment. You did whatever you could to stifle the noises you were making. It was a small store so one slip up and everyone would know.

Asmo already did. He sensed the lust coming from you the moment you entered the dressing room.

You stayed in there until Levi was done and you rode out the high. You felt a bit lightheaded but quickly finished changing into your normal clothes before exiting the dressing room.

Asmo had a knowing smile on his face as you approached him but you shot him a look that told him not to push your buttons.

Still, Asmo couldn’t resist making one remark.

“If Levi was that jealous, he could have come and done it in person.”

You were talking to Lucifer in the Assembly Hall about some business regarding the exchange student program. Lucifer had some important information to give you and asked you to stay a little bit longer, much to Satan’s dismay.

Satan thought that Lucifer had been spending a little too much time with you and the fact is that he was starting to get jealous. And he hated being jealous of Lucifer of all people.

So, Satan thought it would be wise to make his claim on you and drive Lucifer away once and for all.

He made it back to the House of Lamentation in record time and immediately went to his room, a knowing smirk on his face.

He was more than ready to show you how good he can make you feel just through your pact bond.

“What do you think of the exchange program so far?” Lucifer asked you. You opened your mouth to say something in response when you suddenly felt a jolt of pleasure.

Your eyes widened slightly as your cheeks began to turn pink. Really, Satan? Now?

Lucifer was giving you an expectant look and you did your best to push the thoughts of Satan out of your head.

“Sorry, what was the question?” you asked, trying to calm your heartbeat. Lucifer hesitated for a moment, before repeating his question just as Satan decided to pick up the pace.

“Oh-I-It’s great!” you replied, your cheeks flushing as you bit back the moans that were desperately trying to escape.

“Are you feeling alright?” Lucifer asked, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. You clenched your fists as you started losing focus.

“You know, I’m actually feeling a bit under the weather. Let’s continue this later!” you replied, quickly rushing out of the Assembly Hall before Lucifer could say anything else.

Though he had an idea of what was going on and the thought made him blush. Leave it to his brother to be so daring.

You barely made it to the bathroom at RAD before you came undone. Thankfully, there were no other students there.

You let out small pants and ran your hand through your hair as you did what you could to regain your composure.

You pulled out your D.D.D. and quickly clicked on Satan’s name. You could hear his smile as he answered the phone. He knew what he had done and he was as desperate to see you as you were to see him.

You took a deep breath before telling him, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You then hung up the call and gathered your things before making your way back to the House of Lamentation.

Asmo is the most adventurous when it comes to alone time with himself. He believes pleasuring yourself is equally as important as pleasuring your partner.

Luckily for him, because he has a pact with you, he gets to do both at the same time.

Asmo will set the scene with music and scented candles and he’ll make a whole night of it.

He started slow and watched as his pact began to light up. His eyes glowed with the pact as he could feel himself getting more excited at the idea of you.

Where were you right now? Were you in public or were you studying somewhere quiet? Asmo didn't care about others hearing your moans of pleasure. He wanted them to, in fact. He wanted everyone to know how satisfied he could make you.

You happened to be at RAD though, in the school library. And a library was not a place for you to make such noises.

You knew what Asmo was doing the second he started. A blush immediately rose to your cheeks as you carefully stood up from your seat.

Luckily, Asmo was starting slow and you could manage the feeling without too much attention on you.

You slowly began packing your things into your bag, focusing on each breath you were taking. You were doing everything you could to act natural.

But, then Asmo started picking up the pace and you dropped three of your books. You let out a small gasp as people began looking in your direction. Your blush deepened as you gripped the table, trying to regain control of yourself.

But, Asmo didn’t stop and you realized you needed to leave the library as soon as possible.

So, you rushed out of the library, leaving your books and bag on the table. Luckily, there weren’t many students in RAD at that time, so finding a quiet place wasn’t that hard.

You closed the door just in time and pressed your back against it, doing your best to stifle your moans as Asmo brought the two of you to your climax.

As you started to come down, you were breathing heavily, your head still clouded. But you knew Asmo, and you knew round two would be coming shortly after.

You ran back to the library, shoving everything in your bag before practically sprinting home.

As soon as you entered the House of Lamentation, you threw your bag onto the ground and went to Asmo’s room, not even bothering to knock on the door.

You knew exactly what you were going to see when you opened it, but you weren’t concerned about interrupting.

Asmo immediately smiled when he saw you, trailing his eyes over your body. “Are you okay, Y/N? You’re looking a little…bothered,” Asmo stated, confidence shining in his eyes.

Smug.

Part of you wanted to yell at Asmo for doing that to you in a public place. But the fact of the matter was that you were bothered and he was right there in front of you looking like a Greek God.

So, you simply shut the door and let Asmo pleasure you the real way. Where you could feel every place his lips touched, and every movement his hands made.

Beel might seem quiet and less forward than his other brothers. But he still had needs. Needs that he preferred that you fill for him. But if you weren’t around to do so, he would settle for himself.

Most of the time Beel was too distracted by food to get frustrated. When he was in the mood, you were almost always there with him. And if you were in the mood, he would drop what he was doing.

But there weren’t many instances where he was turned on while you weren’t there to help him. That was until today at least.

Mammon had begged you to do a photoshoot with him. The magazine was desperate for models and agreed to give Mammon a cut of whatever photos were taken if he found another model.

You agreed - reluctantly - and asked Beel to come along. With the promise of food of course.

You sat with Beel, making small talk, as Mammon did his part of the shoot. Then when he was done, you went to get ready.

Beel had finished eating and was now patiently waiting for your turn so that he could take you back to the House of Lamentation and spend some time with you.

What he was not expecting was for you to come out in such a risque outfit. Beel’s eyes immediately widened as he saw you, a blush rising to his cheeks.

There was still so much time left in the shoot and with the way you were looking - Beel didn’t think he could wait until it was done. Maybe you and he could have some intimate time afterward. But - he needed something now.

You could feel tension building inside of you and you quickly looked for Beel. Only to notice he wasn’t in the spot that you left him in. Not good.

You quickly changed outfits, trying to knock the pictures out as fast as you could before Beel found somewhere secluded.

It was too late though and you struggled to hold back as pleasure began building. Just a few more pictures.

The bright flash of the camera only seemed to add to your stimulation and you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Okay! We’re done,” you announced, calling it quits for the day. You were still scheduled to shoot a couple more pictures. But you couldn’t - not right now.

You went to the nearest room with a door and quickly shut it, clenching your jaw as you sank to the ground, the feeling of pleasure overwhelming you.

When you were done, you left the room and immediately went to find Beel.

He was coming out of a different room and his eyes immediately met yours. He saw your glazed-over eyes and messy hair and gave you a small smile.

“Sorry,” he told you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before adding, “You looked great up there.”

As if it wasn’t obvious, Belphie had a hard time staying awake in class and his grades were starting to slip because of it.

Lucifer had come to you with the task of trying to find a way to keep Belphie awake in class. And although it was an impossible task, you promised to do your best.

It had started with gentle nudges and softly shaking the youngest brother awake. But, within a matter of moments, Belphie would be falling right back asleep.

You moved on to a method that had proven to catch his attention. You carefully leaned over and whispered things in his ear that made him snap his eyes open in an instant. Promises of things you would only do if he managed to stay awake in class.

It was proper motivation for Belphie who was now sitting upright. He whispered questions back to you. Some of them were so forward, you couldn’t help but laugh.

When you did, the teacher caught on to the fact that you and Belphie were engaged in some funny business and decided to separate you.

That didn’t stop you from teasing Belphie though. And he kept his eyes glued to every little thing that you did, growing more and more frustrated.

Your method of keeping Belphie awake had turned into a fun game for you and a much more frustrating one for Belphie.

Luckily for Belphie though, he had a free period after this class and he knew that you did not. A sadistic smirk began to form on Belphie’s lips as he thought about his revenge.

As soon as the bell rang, Belphie left without even saying a word to you. You thought it was a bit strange because he usually walked you to your next class. But you didn’t have the time to investigate.

You went to class and took your place next to Satan who was already nose deep in his book. You greeted him quickly before pulling out your own materials.

You started reading the book before you when you felt a sudden wave of pleasure wash over you. You let out a small gasp as your cheeks immediately flushed.

“Are you alright?” Satan asked, looking over at you curiously. “Fine,” you replied, knowing exactly what Belphie was doing.

Please, let me make it through this class.

But, Belphie knew everything about you. He knew what pace to go at to drive you crazy and you were quickly losing what little control you had over your body.

It had reached a certain point when you suddenly stood up from your desk, gripping the edge of it. Both the teacher and Satan immediately stared at you.

He knew. He had to know. He was Satan after all. The best at deduction.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you told the teacher, not even waiting for an answer as you rushed out of the classroom. You swear you heard Satan chuckle as you left the room. But that was the furthest thing from your mind.

You rushed to the bathroom and when you went in, you found Belphie there waiting for you. Clever devil.

“You should know not to be a tease, Y/N,” Belphie said confidently.

You didn’t care if another student walked in on you and Belphie. You just needed his hands on you and he felt the same way.

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spacedace · 6 months

Text

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

#dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #jon kent #jon el kent #damian wayne #justice league #super serious chaos #possible platonic super serious chaos it's up to yall #clones are called mirrorborn in the infinite realms #elle is the ancient of the speedforce #Dani Phantom is the Ancient of the Speedforce #I will make this happen if it kills me please someone else write something for this I'm going feral #impulsively marrying your friends to fuck with some of the most powerful entities in existence is a fun pass time everyone should try #their friends and family are exactly as unhinged as these three - sometimes even *More* unhinged - and can't say shit about it #so many justice league members are torn between sobbing because 'This was going to be a short meeting for once!' 😭#and being SO EXCITED because the chaos that is about to break out in this meeting room is going to be SO GOOD #There is so much tea that is going to be spilled at the cafeteria after this

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puck-luck · 3 months

Text

play house with me | alex lyon

warnings: breeding kink HEAVYYYYY, use of mommy/mama/daddy but it’s very brief and not always related to the sex, obvious creampie???, childhood best friends to lovers &&& co-parents LOVE, mentions of breastmilk during the fucking (alex will totally want to try said breastmilk when it comes in), dirty talk pairing: alex lyon x fem!reader request: yes (alex lyon gets reader pregnant woohoooooo) wc: 2940

Everyone has made a deal like this before– especially those with guy best friends, like you. It didn’t help that you had had an on-again, off-again crush on Alex since you both were teenagers and he had grown into his looks. You had known him for practically your whole life and Alex was the picture-perfect boy next door with his dark curls and goofy personality, so it was a no-brainer when Alex proposed a pact.

You were both eighteen at the time, ready to go your separate ways for college. It was late, a warm and humid summer night, and you and Alex has just gone for ice cream. You were picking at your cup of ice cream with your spoon, watching it melt in the rapid summer heat. It was then that Alex said, “You know, if we’re thirty and neither of us are with someone else, we should have a kid.”

It was no secret that you wanted to have kids, nor a secret that Alex wanted to have kids, so the deal was a no-brainer. You said yes, not thinking much of it because… why wouldn’t you be with someone by age thirty?

Well, it’s funny. Yesterday was your thirtieth birthday, and here you are: single. Frustrated and annoyed can also describe your current state.

Alex had texted you the day before to wish you a happy birthday, promising to see you when he came back into town today. He should be on the way to your apartment right now and all you can think about is the deal you made twelve years prior.

You had no doubt about it– you wanted to have a baby and you wanted to do it with Alex. You just had to broach the subject, but you were torn about how to bring up the deal without sounding desperate or weird. There was a chance Alex wouldn’t even remember your deal, even though he was the one who thought of it in the first place.

When he arrives and knocks on your front door, you let him in with an awkward hug hello. It’s only awkward because you know that you’re about to ask him something that will change your friendship and relationship forever. Alex, always able to read you like an open book, notices that you’re acting weird immediately and calls you out on it.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Alex asks, quirking an eyebrow at you with a bemused smile. “Are you alright?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “How do you always know?”

Alex’s smile turns into a proud smirk. “Because I know you. What are you thinking about?”

“Just some stuff about you and turning thirty,” you reply, ready to explain yourself further.

Alex interrupts. “Thinking about our baby pact?”

You balk at him, shocked. “How did you know?”

“Again– because I know you.” Alex repeats. His gaze takes in your features, admiring you. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. “Plus, it’s part of the reason why I wanted to see you today.”

“Oh, yeah?” You ask, a little laugh tinging your words. “You wanted to come over so we could discuss babies?”

“Isn’t that why you agreed to have me over?” Alex answers with his own question, smug because he knows he’s right. “So that we could even go a little further, since you’re thirty now, and our pact has to come to fruition?”

You blush, biting your lower lip and rolling your eyes. You’re pretending to be annoyed, but you’re really just fond. Alex does know you best, can practically read your mind and provide you with anything you want before you realize you want it. Before now, that mostly related to when you could go and get food together– he always knew exactly what you were craving, always taking you to the right restaurant that would hit the spot and satisfy you indefinitely.

Now, it’s a much bigger decision, one that will change your lives forever, but Alex is completely on board. So are you.

Once again, it’s a no-brainer.

“I wouldn’t complain,” you tease, purposefully coy.

“Good.” Alex sweeps you off your feet, carrying you over one shoulder. “We can talk about everything later. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for years.”

He says it casually, like that’s not the most Earth-shattering revelation you’ve ever heard. You and Alex had always toed the line of flirtation and all of your friends swore that you were meant to be, but things had never gone this far. You and Alex had never kissed, save for one accidental peck when you turned your cheek in surprise and caught his lips, the ones intending to meet your skin in a sweet greeting. It had caused a laugh, but it was the closest to romance that you and Alex had ever physically experienced.

Now, he’s tossing you on your bed and climbing above you like this is an everyday occurrence.

“Alex,” you say, putting a hand on his chest to stop his movements. “Are you really, really sure about this? It’s a big decision.”

“I’ve wanted to have a baby with you since I was five years old and you made me be the daddy when we played house,” Alex replies, leaning down to capture your earlobe between his teeth. “You were the mommy to our little baby doll and the idea never left my mind. Now we’re thirty, single, and I think we should make my dream a reality. I’m all in, Y/N.”

A breath of relief leaves your lungs at his reassurance. He mouths along your jaw, coming to hover with his lips just out of reach of your own. You look up at him, waiting for him to make a move.

Alex looks up from your lips, finding your eyes. “Are you really, really sure about this?” He parrots back, lips twisting up at the edges. “You’re the one who’s going to be tasked with carrying our baby.”

You make a soft noise of assent, the breathy moan pulled from your stomach like a gut-punch.

Alex chuckles. “You like that, huh?” He brushes a kiss against the left corner of your mouth, then the right. “You’re going to look so pretty all swollen and full of me. I want it so bad, Y/N. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I might have to keep you pregnant all the time– you’re going to glow, darling.”

Moaning again, you bring your hands up to his face and pull him into you, crashing your lips against his. Eager and desperate, you kiss him until you’re breathless and your cheeks have gone hot. As far as first kisses go, this is your favorite one you’ve ever had. Alex is confident and just as eager as you are, his tongue filling your mouth and tasting you like he could devour you. Inadvertently, you find yourself wondering how his tongue would feel against your clit and your entrance, but that can wait for another time.

Another time, because this will certainly be happening again. It’s the easiest decision you could ever make, seeking out Alex again. You’re comfortable with him, you’re happy when he’s around, and you love him deeply. You know him and he knows you. Your friends were right all along– you two are meant to be.

“Do you want it? I need you to tell me,” Alex implores between kisses, allowing his hands to roam over your body.

It’s distracting and it takes a moment for his words to click, especially when his hands find their way under your shirt and start to pet over the skin under which your ribs reside.

“I want it,” you cry when Alex’s fingertips graze your underboob. You whine when his fingers withdraw from your middle, but Alex soothes you with a whispered coo and a soft kiss to your lips.

He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra underneath him. He grabs his own shirt by the back collar, pulling it over his head and revealing his bare chest to your wandering eyes. You drink him in, running your hands all over his warm body and feeling the ridges of the muscles he’s worked so hard to build and maintain over the years.

He brings a hand to your chest, cupping the swell of your breast and fishing your boob out of the article of clothing, pinching your nipple. After one final kiss, Alex brings his lips down and replaces his fingers with his teeth, nibbling at the peak of your breast before sucking.

You arch your back, your hand fisting his curls again. You moan out a wanton sound and you can feel Alex’s lips curve into a smile against your skin. He releases your nipple with a wet pop, kissing over your sternum and up your neck.

“So pretty, mama,” Alex mumbles against your skin, lips warm and scarring. You wish you could tattoo the path he takes along your chest, physically marking your body permanently so you never forget this. “Let’s make a baby, hm? Give me a real reason to use that name?”

“Give me a baby,” you agree, tousling his curls. “I wanna make you a daddy, Alex.”

Alex groans against your skin, popping the button on your jeans and drawing the zipper down. His mouth doesn’t leave your body, not even for a second as he struggles to work the tight denim down your body.

You adjust yourself on the bed, helping him push the fabric down. You take to his own bottoms, tugging eagerly at his waistband until he gets the hint and removes his shorts. You push him down, making him sit back against the headboard. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him. Still separated by the barrier of both of your underwears between you, you sink down on his bulge in a satisfying grind.

Alex’s hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him and rolling his own hips. He reconnects your lips, swallowing every sound you make and vice versa. He’s straining against his boxers, pulsing against you with each grind.

“I want to ride you,” you tell Alex. “Just like this.”

Alex moans, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, knocking it against the headboard in the process. “Fuck,” he breathes out. “Want me to prep you?”

“No, I want to feel everything,” you say. “I want to feel your big cock stretch me all on its own before it fucks a baby into me.”

Your words only spur him on and he jostles you on his lap as he tries to remove his underwear without feeling your absence. You take matters into your own hands and remove yourself from his lap to take off your own underwear, tossing it onto the floor without another thought, the thin scrap of fabric joining the rest of your scattered clothes.

Both bare and dripping, you climb back on top of Alex, fitting his cock between your folds to grind against him before allowing him to breach your entrance. You spread your slick all over his member, using his precum and your wetness as lube.

Alex whines at the contact, clutching at your skin desperately after he removes your bra with both hands. Your boobs sit prettily on your chest, drawing Alex’s eyes and causing his pupils to swell. He cups one and licks over the nipple he hadn’t previously sucked, needing something to occupy his mouth and muffle his sounds. He’s far gone– the idea of filling you up has him channeling something primal, overtaken by his instinct to stuff you with his cock and thoroughly breed you.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d been thinking about it for years– one of the images that caused him to spill over his fist countless of times in his twenties was just this: fucking you bare and starting a family with you, forever entertwining your souls and destinies in an irreversible way. You would be his, in this way, forever. He could shoot off now thinking about it, but the promise of the real thing stops him.

And the real thing comes sooner than he thinks, with you rising up onto your knees and lining him up with your entrance. You lower yourself down slowly, achingly slow. It takes everything out of Alex to not buck up into your heat as the head of his cock enters you with a jolt.

The sigh that leaves your mouth and the roll of your eyes chips away his restraint even more than your heat. All of your pretty noises are like a watering hole in the middle of the desert to Alex– and he’s lapping them up.

“Y/N,” Alex moans as you work your way down his shaft. Your walls hug him tightly, squeezing him as you take his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good. You’re made for me.”

“Alex,” you sigh, pressing his forehead against yours. You’re unable to form many words other than that– melting into a puddle of moans and whines as you find yourself sinking fully onto his length, enveloping him entirely. He reaches the deepest part of you, his tip nudging your back wall.

“Can’t wait to see these tits all full of milk,” Alex tells you, filling in the gaps of silence. He reaches up, cupping the weight in his palms and kissing over the smooth skin in his hands. “You’re going to be so great to our baby.”

You start to bounce on his cock, tossing your head back as the ecstasy of fulfillment washes over you. His words just spur you on.

“You’ll take care of them so well, won’t you?” Alex asks, his question rhetorical.

Your response is a moan and a stutter in your rhythm, which causes Alex to take over. He flips you over without pulling out, your back hitting the mattress and knocking the breath out of you.

Alex practically breathes life back into you when he kisses you, insistent but charged with the sweet love that you share for each other. It’s the love that you’ve shared since you were kids– and now, it’s the love that you’ll pass along to your child.

“Fuck, Alex,” you whine at the thought, unable to keep it to yourself. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alex says, kissing you again. His thrusts are harder in this position, hitting you deeper.

It feels impossible, being in this position with Alex. Yes, your friends had always said that you and Alex were meant to be, but there was a line you’d never crossed. You never expected to cross it. Now, with Alex inside of you and filling you so well, ready to start the next chapter of your lives with each other, you can’t imagine it any other way.

Alex continues, pushing you further towards your peak. “This pussy was made to take my babies, huh? Made just for me?”

“Yeah,” you agree, breathless, pulling Alex down to connect your lips. You can barely handle the words, much less the little noises and grunts that fill your mouth during the kiss.

It’s like you’re becoming one being. Everything is perfect, and you’re feeling so good that your orgasm approaches quicker than expected.

“Alex, ‘m gonna come,” you let out, holding him tight.

“Let it go, lovebug,” Alex coos, tracing the line of your cheek with a light touch. “I’m right there with you.”

Your eyes roll back and your mouth opens in a silent scream. Alex continues to fuck into you, prolonging the waves of pleasure that overtake you with each bump of his cockhead against your g-spot. You’re moaning unintelligibly, jumbled words falling from your mouth and barely reaching Alex’s ears.

He shoots off when you keen into his mouth, teeth clashing in a messy union that has you on the verge of laughter. You’ve never laughed during sex before, but it just seems right. Everything with Alex seems right.

His seed fills you and warms you from the inside out, settling deep in your core and coating your walls in the weirdest, most unique feeling you’ve ever experienced. You can feel the come dripping down from your ridges, letting gravity take control as it starts to leak out of you when Alex pulls out.

You pout, closing your legs as much as you can with Alex still between them in order to keep his release from leaving you, desperate for it to take.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Alex soothes, brushing your hair away from your face and thumbing over the sweat on your brow.

You don’t reply, enamored by the way his own curls have gone sweaty and his cheeks and dusted with a blush from the exertion of your union. You bite your lip as Alex opens his mouth to speak again, admiring his straight white teeth in a moment that should be weird, but isn’t. You hope your baby has his teeth– no need to pay for braces, not that that’s something you’d have to worry about with Alex’s salary.

“We’re going to go again in a bit, I think,” Alex muses, his words a proposition rather than a command, despite his definitive tone. He kisses over your face, little pecks that make you giggle again. His lips find yours, sweet and chaste. When he pulls away, he whispers conspiratorially in your ear. “Gonna fuck you all night to make sure this takes.” He winks, a smile crossing his face. “Join me in the shower, mama? I want to wash your hair for you.”

note: this is for my lyon girlie who was all up in my asks, ily <3 i hope i captured your man well and you enjoyed this <3

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#alex lyon #alex lyon smut #alex lyon x reader #alex lyon x y/n #al34 #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut

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space-mango-company · 6 months

Text

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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iloverook · 2 months

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Obey me side characters hcs!!

(luke's hcs are platonic ofc)

Diavolo:

That guy would spoil you. If you think about something, the next second that something appears in your hand

would send you love letters as a secret admirer (everyone knows his the one who's writing)

would take you to every ball he goes (or any meeting, he loves having you by his side)

would throw the biggest party at your birthday (if you like this type of thing ofc. But if you don't, he will just go on a date with you, just the two of you)

He's aware that you will die before him, and every time he remembers that he cries

Barbatos:

another one that i can't think of many hcs

Have a stock of your favorite tea

his love language is definitely Acts of service

loves taking care of you (also loves when you take care of him, but won't tell you directly)

makes any sweet you crave. Just ask him and he will bake it as fast as he can

loves baking with you and Luke (he like to imagine that Luke's your guys son)

Simeon:

He definitely draws you (probably made a TSL character that looks like you)

Has a picture of you as his phone background

Bakes all of your birthdays cakes (it's a special thing for him)

Loves when you both go out with Luke (Like barbatos, he imagines it like his little Family)

After he turned human he asked if he could live with you

Solomon:

You both are besties (even if you're dating)

He gets really proud of you when you do any type of magic (even if you use it to turn off the lights without getting up from your bed)

you both have matching pajamas

you guys have movie maratons of human world movie

would dye a lock of his hair to match you (if you have dyed hair)

tries to make you convince Lucifer to make a pact with him

Luke (platonic )

sees you as a parent figure (or as a older sibling if you're not comfortable with the parent thing)

loves when you help him study

gives you small gifts that remind him of you. Like a flower that he saw on the way home or a mug that's themed of something you like

likes to draw on your arm when he's bored or color your tattoos if you have (or just your pact marks)

that's it for now! sorry for any spelling mistake, english is not my first language! thank you for reading!!

#obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #solomon x mc #solomon x reader #obey me luke #obey me simeon #om simeon #simeon x reader #om! simeon #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #obey me diavolo #lord diavolo #diavolo x mc #diavolo x reader

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chaoticharrington · 5 months

Text

Chapter One: Professor Harrington and Mr. Munson

***THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much...YET.. lots of smutty smutt smutt to come. Vague mention of depression/ bad childhood/anxiety , mention of drug use/ cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being hot, Reader is in their mid 20s and Eddie and Steve are early to mid 40s

Summary: Reader moves to the one and only Hawkins, Indiana and meets her sexy new sociology professor and realizes she might have a crush on her best friends dad..oops

Authors Note: Hi folks!!! this is so nerve wracking i've never really properly written for either of these characters before except in my head and reading lots and lots of smut! I really hope you guys like it, i'm really excited for what's to come for this series, I haven't thought of a name for it yet so i'm just going to go chapter by chapter but its gonna be a fucking wild ride so buckle your seat belts :) 4k words (Also older Eddie pic by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

**Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

Were you doing the right thing? Could you do this on your own? What if you failed?

Your head filled with doubt now that your dreams you’ve had since you graduated high school were now coming to fruition. You saved up all the money you could, working odd jobs for a few years after high school to have enough money to get out of your hometown and into a good college states away.

You shake away all the negative thoughts, no. This had to work you were going to make sure it worked. This is your new start, to create your own life. It had to be better than back home, where no one gave a shit about you and your own parents didn’t care enough to stick around after you graduated high school, not that they were the most involved parents to begin with anyways. Even the friends you had back home were just party related or friends of friends, you were always on the outside looking in, never properly fitting anywhere. The only reason you decided to move specifically to Hawkins was because your only real friend, Violet, that you’ve had since you were 12 had moved here 10 years ago and you’d made a pact long ago that if you ever got out of that town, you’d follow her here.

You pinch your fingers to the bridge of your nose, willing the thought of your parents and back home to go back into the little dark corner of your brain. You can’t breakdown now, not right before your first class, how pathetic would that be?

“Focus focus focus, come on you got this.” you muttered quietly to yourself over and over until the anxiety subsided. You take a deep breath, willing your lungs to fill with air to cool down your buzzing insides. You look in your car mirror to make sure your makeup still looked good and fidgeted with your clothes.

You were never one to obsess over your appearance by any means, but you really wanted to make a good first impression. You had your hair pulled up into a butterfly clip and had on your favorite dress a pair of black tights and your trusty Dr. Martens. With one final look in the mirror, you sigh and grab your bookbag and get out of your car. You look on your phone to triple check that you were in the right place, the last thing you needed was to be lost or even worse late to your first class.

You’d only moved into your apartment off campus the day before so you haven’t had time to look around the town or get used to your surroundings yet. You noted that your car didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Your car was a few years old and was always something of an insecurity for you. But most of the cars that filled the almost completely full parking lot were older or used cars, which put you at ease. You head into the Humanities and Social Sciences building and check for a fourth time, Sociology 101 room E142 Professor Harrington.

The room is much bigger than you thought, chairs and desks circling the podium at the front of the room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the room was only half full of other stressed out looking students preparing for their day ahead. You decide to pick a seat towards the middle of the room to not look too eager.

As you’re getting your laptop and books out of your bookbag you hear footsteps walking into the room and the girls behind you immediately start giggling and whispering to each other. You look to see where they’re looking hoping they aren’t making fun of you, you see them biting their lips and looking at the front of the class. You follow their eyeline and your breath hitches.

Where your sociology professor should be standing is an Adonis, he has thick honey brown hair, peppered with grey, that frame his handsome face. His skin impossibly sun kissed like he’d just come back from a tropical island and not living in Hawkins, Indiana. He smiles nervously at the class; his smile is warmer than the sun despite his nervousness, warming you from the inside out. He’s wearing a white button down covered by a navy blue sweater, a pair of grey slacks and black high top converse.

“Ahoy folks! Are you guys ready to set sail on this vast ocean called Sociology with me? I’ll be your Captain Professor Harrington!” he claps his hands, his eyes waiting and hoping for a response.

The girls behind you giggle and a few other students around the room follow suit, he sighs contently. He goes onto explaining the syllabus and assignments for this semester. The class flies by, he’s easy to listen and pay attention to, sure his looks help but he seems genuinely interested in what he’s teaching. Which is a breath of fresh air, you diligently take notes, making sure not to miss anything. Before you know it, class is over and people start packing up their things.

“Oh class before I forget, if any of you are commuters, come get a parking pass from me unless you want a ticket.” he announces to the class, most of the class you assume living in the dorms hurry out of the room.

“Because not only are we charging students tuition we are also charging students just to park on campus, capitalism at its finest folks,” he snorts, shakes his head, and walks to his desk leaning against it.

After finally putting all your things away and checking where your next class is you head up to him. Just being near him makes your heart beat a million miles a minute, like your unworthy of being in his presence let alone so close to him.

He smiles warmer and wider as you stand in front of him, “Hey what can I do ya for?” he asks brightly.

“Oh, uh, I just need a parking pass if that’s okay,” you say quietly.

“More than okay my dear!” he declared. You blush at his words while he picks around in his desk drawer for a parking pass. His nose scrunches up in frustration as the digging becomes hastier and more urgent.

“I coulda swore I put em in here… or did I leave them in my office?... shit,” he breathes.

You giggle at his disorganization, and he looks up at you embarrassed, you wondered how a man who looks like how he does could ever be embarrassed about anything. The girls who sit behind you would agree.

“I promise I’m not usually this discombobulated.. just uh first days always come sooner than I think.” he chuckles

You nod knowingly at him “No worries I can always get it tomorrow or something.” you say waving his worries off.

He looks up at you through his glasses relieved “Really? That- that would be amazing. I would go grab them from my office, but I don’t think I have enough time to before my next class.” He studies you for a second like he’s actually looking at you for the first time.

“What’s your name again hun?” he says casually, as he opens his computer and types on his keyboard.

Your heart flutters at the continued use of nicknames, you take a second to study him again before you respond. He’s hunched over his desk, typing and clicking away on his computer like he’s searching for something. His eyes crinkled at the edges with age, memories of many days smiling and being in the sun. You notice his freckles that adorn his face and neck that you couldn’t see during class. If you had it your way, you’d take your time to count them all to try and make sense of his godly beauty. And his hands.. his hands look so strong effortlessly gliding across his keyboard.

You must have taken too long to answer because he looks up at you expectantly and raises his eyebrow and smirks. You shake your head slightly trying to regain your composure.

“S-sorry first day jitters, my heads a bit scrambled,” you confess to him. You tell him your name quickly, you hoped that your cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

His eyes softened a bit and nodded and continued to type on his computer for a couple more seconds before turning to you again.

“I emailed campus security to let them know that it’s my fault you don’t have a pass and if they do give you a ticket just bring it to me and I’ll sort it out for you, okay?” he states and steps away from his computer to face you again.

“Oh wow thank you so much Mr. Harrington, I really appreciate it!” you chirp

His face scrunches up at the name, and chuckles, some of his honey brown hair falling in front of his face, his hand ready to catch them and put the strands back in place. You were mesmerized.

“Uh Mr. Harrington is my father, call me Steve er Professor Harrington works to if you don’t want to be on a first name basis.” He says kindly

“Oh well thank you regardless…Steve.” his name sounds foreign but good on your tongue. You stare at your shoes and then realize that you’ve been in here looking at your professor for far too long.

What the fuck were you thinking? He probably thinks you’re insane but is too nice to say so.

“Ya of course,” he dismisses you easily.

“Anyways I don’t wanna keep you, have a good day,” you apologize.

"You too Y/N,” he calls, as you head out the door, glad that your back is to him so he can’t see you blush again just because he said your first name.

“Get it the fuck together.” you mutter to yourself as you walk aimlessly out of his classroom.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, you find yourself actually excited for the upcoming topics in your classes. You’ve never given yourself the opportunity to properly nerd out about the things you’re interested in.

You finally get back to your car after all your classes and groan at the sight of a ticket stuck onto your windshield.

“Fuck…” you whine

Too tired to get it taken care of today you drive home and plop on your bed. Even though your classes were super interesting, it was very mentally draining. Extra draining because you’ve tried to force your brain to focus on classes and not think about your sexy sociology professor.

Was he this nice to all his students? Did you catch him eyeing you up while you were talking or were your eyes playing tricks on you? You keep trying to reassure yourself he is just really nice. But his hands… his smile…

You groan and rub your hands against your face trying to shake all the whirling thoughts out of your head. You force yourself to think about literally anything else, then your tummy rumbles. You haven’t had time to grocery shop considering you had just moved in yesterday and your fridge was completely empty except for some bottles of water and condiments.

Your phone buzzes next to you on your bed, you open it and smile.

“BITCHHHH I MISS U COME OVER! You’ve been in Hawkins over 24 hours & ive gotten radio silence from u! ur presence is being requested in the munson household immediately!

P.S Bring food my dad is starving me over here”

“At your service m’lady, cheeseburgers good?” you respond quickly

“ur a life saver babe<3”

Your mind drifts away from your professor and the ticket that is burning a hole in your bookbag. This place already feels more like home than any time you’ve ever spent where you were born. You missed your best friend so much. Violet Munson has been your ride or die best friend for as long as you can remember. You two became friends when you were sitting alone in the lunch room one day and she came and sat right down next to you and you two have been inseparable ever since… that is until her dad decided to move her back to Hawkins to be closer to family after the divorce right before freshman year. You had been crushed getting your best friend ripped away from you like that, but then you guys made the pack to get out of dodge when you could, and now you’re here… in Hawkins,Indiana.

You change into comfy clothes and grab some cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings from the only burger joint in town and headed over to the Munson residence. You’ve never actually been to her house before because your parents never allowed you to visit after she moved away, so you two mostly kept in contact over constant texts and lots of facetiming.

Pulling up to her house you were more nervous than you thought, you hadn’t seen her in so long and hoped things wouldn’t be awkward. You turned off the ignition, grabbed the food, and went to open your door when you heard a scream come from the front of the house. You lift your eyes to see your best friend jumping up and down on the front porch in her pajamas. Violet had long bright purple hair and thick black eyeliner, kind eyes, a wide smile, and an infectious laugh.

“YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE REALLY FUCKING HERE HOLY SHIT!”

You laughed and dropped all the food in the front seat of your car and ran to meet her in the middle of her lawn and tackled her to the ground. You hugged her tight, squeezing your eyes together wishing the tears at the corner of your eyes to go away.

“Vi I missed you so fucking much.” you whisper

“Awe babe I missed you too.” she shares

You both get up off the grass and you grab the food and head inside. You set the food down in front of the tv like you used to do when she lived closer to you. You sit down on the couch and while she grabs plates. You sigh deeper into the couch, everything was just picking up exactly where you two had left off, you were gonna be okay. You smile quietly to yourself and then head to the kitchen to help her bring everything into the living room. You decide to watch a new horror movie that just came out, the two of you always bonding over everything creepy and spooky. You let Violet tell you about her partner Quinn, who she met a few years ago and was head over heels in love with.

Then the front doorknob jingled, and you heard the familiar thud of heavy boots.

“Ho- holy shit is that Y/N?!”

You turn to face the familiar voice at the door. “Hey Mr. Munson, long time no see!” you breathe.

Fuckk… when did Vi’s dad get so... hot?... what the hell is wrong with you today? First your sociology professor and now your best friends DAD?!

He grins widely at you just like his daughter, he shrugs out of his boots and walks into the living room.

“I got you a cheeseburger on my way over, still like double meat and cheese on your burger?” you question.

Mr. Munson puts a hand over his heart and falls into the love seat next to the tv.

“You remembered, I’m touched sweetheart.” he beamed.

“oh yeah no problem at all!” you blush.

“Well I’ll let you guys catchup, don’t need me harshing the vibes, Vi’s been nonstop talking about you coming to Hawkins a month!” he chattered

Out of the corner of your eye you see Violet roll her eyes at her father.

“Dad no one fucking says “harshing the vibes” anymore or at all, you’re aging yourself old man,” she chortles

Mr. Munson chuckles and puts his hands up in the air in surrender “Alright alright I’m leaving, if you guys need anything I’ll be in the garage. Thanks again for the burger Y/N!” he says kindly holding up the burger in one of his large tattooed hands.

You beam up at him happy to help, and this time you get a good look at your best friends dad. He’s aged so much better than you could ever imagine a man with Mr. Munsons lifestyle to ever age, the expression aged like fine wine captures it perfectly.

His brown hair still wild and curly as its always been but tied up into a low bun at the base of his neck. Only difference is the now visible little grey streaks that run through random curls. He has more laugh lines at the side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Still wearing his normal garb, black jeans with loads of rips, a band tee with a leather jacket. His chocolate brown eyes still full of mischief and debauchery. His nose ring ever present but you spy a few more additions to his tattoo collection, specifically a new neck tattoo and a few more on his hands.

Fuck his hands… wait you have to answer him. Answer him before it’s weird that you’ve been staring at him so long.. you’re really on a fucking roll today.

“It was my pleasure Mr. Munson really,” you gush.

He gives you a wink that goes straight to your core and vibrates in your bones and heads to the garage.

Violet didn’t seem to notice how flushed you were, eyes still on the screen, interjecting at random times when a scene looks to fake or when the blood splattering doesn’t look real enough.

After the movie the two of you head upstairs to Vi’s room, she wanted to show you her new additions to her every growing crystal collection and a few polaroid pictures of her and her partner.

“They literally make me feel like a princess I feel so lucky, for our 3 year anniversary they gave me these black tourmaline pentagram earrings, aren’t they so cute?!”

Your heart fills with warmth, Violet has always been loud and unique, you are so happy for her that she found someone who accepts her for who she is and loves her for it.

“That’s really sweet Vi, i'm so happy you have them, and that they treat you so well,” you grin.

“Thanks… what about you though? You’ve always been very singular… looking to change that any time soon? You deserve to be happy babe, even if it just means getting laid you deserve to get some. You’re a fucking catch dude” ,she compliments

“I mean you know I had a thing with Dylan for awhile before he got back with his girlfriend...” you murmur

“Oh COME ON, you know that’s not what I mean, not some assholes rebound!” she insists

“Vi I don’t have a line down the block like you used to have, you’ve got that whole hot sexy goth girl shit going on, I’m just me.” you babble and point to your gorgeous best friend

“What about Tom? You were with Tom for a long time what happened with him?” she asks obliviously.

“Fuckin cheated on me,” you sigh. Re-living your lack of romantic endeavors to your very not single best friend being up there in the top 10 most pathetic things to date.

“Oh fuck that guy, how fucking dare he!” she sneers while she tries to light the perfectly wrapped blunt in her hand.

“Shit I think my lighters dead, can you go ask my dad if he has an extra?”

You nod and head downstairs and search for the door that leads to the garage, finally you find the door you’re looking for and the image in front of you almost makes you audibly gasp.

Mr. Munson has a cigarette between his lips hes strumming along to some metal song that he’s humming the tune to, occasionally sucking in smoke and blowing out the side of his mouth. His head bobbing to the tune of the song completely in his own world. He’s beautiful.

You look at the way his fingers move to the beat and strum the strings on his guitar, mesmerized by how pretty they are. You can see all the calloses on his hands from all of the years of playing.

Your hand moves without thinking and knocks on the side of the garage door, getting Mr. Munsons attention.

“Oh shit, hey honey, ya need something?" He questions

“oh yeah sorry, Vi’s lighter ran out, and we were trying to light a blunt, you got an extra?” You ask.

Growing up, Mr. Munson had always been the more laid back between Violets two parents, letting her test the waters herself allowing more than the normal parent would. But as long as she was being safe and not doing any hard drugs he was mostly lenient with her. Not that it mattered much now that she’s grown.

“Uh yeah I probably got one around here somewhere, come pop a squat while I look.” he gestures to the chair beside him.

Your legs wobble while you move into the garage, it smelled so uniquely of him. His leather jacket draped over the back of his chair, smoke in the air, and metal music playing lowly in the background.

His space made you feel at home, the garage door was open so you could see the sun setting in the sky, and the metal music is weirdly comforting. You find yourself tapping your feet to the beat.

Eddie went to his truck looking for an extra lighter and your eyes wander to his guitar. You can tell he really cares about it, its clean, the strings look freshly changed, and recently polished.

“Oh yeah she’s a beaut isn’t she?" He observes proudly, leaning against his car with a new found lighter in hand.

“Yeah really pretty Mr. Munson,” you remark.

He smiles at you, “Here ya go, I don’t know how much juice is left in it.” He hands you the lighter, for the few seconds your hands connect you see how much bigger his hands are than yours, it almost makes you topple over in your chair.

“Thanks,” you reply. You grab the lighter with your hand and put it in your pocket and push out of the chair headed back into the house.

“Were you always this shy?” he asks inquisitively.

You turn around to face him confused by his question, you never really considered yourself shy, it just takes some time for you to come out of your shell.

“Shy?” you reply. fidgeting with a loose string on your sweatpants, your lips in a fine line.

“Yeah..you just seem.. shy or sad maybe, you doin okay?” he presses

You sigh hard trying to find the right words to explain the last few years and what would be appropriate to share with your best friends dad. “I’m fine really, just a long few days.” you share and smile to try and make it convincing.

He clicks his tongue and you know that he doesn’t believe you, your heart sinks. You never want to put your sadness or hurt onto anyone else, you’re a big girl and you can handle it on your own. You change the subject to the empty beer glass on the table in front of him, “Need another beer?” you ask

“Read my mind darlin, thanks,” he replies.

You head to the kitchen to grab him his beer and head back to the garage to bring it to him. When you get back he’s back at it strumming on his guitar in his own world, you wish for a second maybe you could just sit in his little world with him, it’s quiet and peaceful, no thinking required. You set the beer on the table and turn to head back upstairs.

“Hey Y/N, if you need anything or even just to talk I’m around, I know I’m not Violet, but if you need another friendly face, I’m here.” he smiles warmly at you.

Your heart melts, of course he’s the sweetest man in the whole world. “Thank you Mr. Munson that really means a lot,” you blush. Thankful to have one more person in this town on your side.

You close the door behind you and rush back upstairs hoping Violet doesn’t notice how long you’ve been gone. You hear voices and giggling on the other side of the door,

She’s on the phone with Quinn.

“She’s returned! Come here I want you to meet Quinn!” she exclaims. You breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, no excuse necessary. Your friendship with Violet has always easier than breathing. You spend the rest of the night smoking weed and talking on the phone with her partner, glad to have the distraction from your recent interaction with her dad.

Did he really mean what he said? Or was he also just being nice? I guess he kind of has to be nice to me, being his daughters best friend. Plus he’s so out of my league, a man like him would never go for a girl like me, right?

Only time will tell.

No Pressure Tags!: (Just tagging some mutuals I thought might enjoy!) ** If you wanna be tagged in the next fic lemme know**

@untitled74745 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munsonology @lesservillain @tlclick73 @dukesmebby @cozyquinn @rowanswriting @succubusmunson @teddyeyeseddie @lofaewrites @chaoticmunsons @ryan-waddell11

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Older! Eddie Munson #Older! Steve Harrington #older eddie munson #older steve harrington #Eddie Munson smut #Steve harrington smut #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader x Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington x reader #Steddie x Reader #Steddie #chaoticharrington fics

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dangopango00 · 4 months

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DEMONIC FEATURES HCS

Random Om demon hcs + OM Demons x gn reader

Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) | Pt. 2 (4567) | Pt. 3 (Royal Trio) Coming soon

CW: suggestive but not much, just “slut” used in regard to clothing and vague suggestion of leviathan with two. 👍

A/N: ive had om since like fuck idk since that first genie event or sth WHATEVER the point is its been a MINUTE and i only JUST watched the anime 😭😭😭 theyre so sweet and silly i cant take witttttt i need to write for them i love them all so muxygehwhwhshshwbwb I swearrr om is one of the only otome where i can gaf about more than 2 or 3 characters

Also u should read them. All; I throw in general hcs too

Lucifer: The Peacock

- I think his wings should have eyes in them like its such a missed opportunity for a reference to his animal counterpart (peacock), a reference to biblical angels and a reference to the fact that he always somehow knows what everyone’s up to and what their ulterior motives are. Ik he has a few on his outfit but it just doesn’t give that otherworldly creature dread feeling you should get when looking at a demon (Not to go on a tangent but when I see a hot demon character I want to be afraid of them but then go “wait why is this hot”)

- Also while he technically has 4 wings, I think that when he flares out his wings they should expand in such a way that makes it appear like he has more

- I imagine his wings stretch out and look bigger whenever he feels proud of and satisfied with himself— esp when he’s around you; its cute tbh but he also does it when hes super pissed; are you gonna take that chance? 🤔

- Imagine if the little diamond on his forehead was a closed eye and every now and again it opens especially when he feels as if his pride is threatened or when he’s generally angry. Personally I think that would be sick af

- I KNOW THE MARKINGS ARE JUST LIKE BIRTHMARKS BUT IMAGINE THEY FEEL DIFFERENT FROM THE NORMAL SKIN like Lucifer’s markings could be feathers covering his jaw and below (see: Howl Pendragon bird form, kinda) and they feel like real feathers too

- I think we all agree that whenever he feels protective of you he’d wrap his wings around you and shield you from anyone’s view but his own

- Keeps a feather on you (probably gives it to you as a gift) so he can keep an eye on you at all times (This is not a pun; imo he can see through the eyes on his wings when he closes his main eyes and opens his third)

- Pact mark spans from the nape of your neck to about 1/3 your spine (pretty big but not humongous) and is in the shape of a peacock feather but when his powers/benefits are used the barbs of the feather move in a way similar to fire and the eye in the center opens (it kinda tickles and/or sends a chill down your spine)

- Pact mark allows him to locate you in pretty much any place without an uber powerful magic barrier or like interference (Which I think would make sense considering he always knows what’s up + he DID say making a pact with him entails you are his and he is yours [since you can summon him wnv I think and command him to do stuff])

- Something he already does but I just noticed lines up with peacocks is tilting his head when he’s sick of everyone’s shit

- OH MY GODDDDD HIS WINGS DRAPE DOWN LIKE PEACOCK TAIL FEATHERS. HE HAS LONG WINGS. LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME THAT SHIT WOULDN’T BE MAJESTIC AS HELL ON HIM

Mammon: The Corvid

- I think his wings are nicely placed but I would make them curl/angle upwards more to more resemble bird wings (Ik Lucifer is the bird wing guy but hes a bird too 😞😞) kinda like this

- I think that while the bones are exposed on his wings, on the back of the wings there should be patches of feathers showing he lost them in his fall from grace aaaa 😫😫😫

- I know the demons have either wings or tails but like. Entertain this thought: Mammon with cute lil tail feathers 😭😭 mammon with a bird tail would just fit so well im sorry

- He subconsciously lowers/bows his head while talking to people he respects and admires (like you and Lucifer) like laying his head down on his arm or desk or sth

- Collects stuff that looks interesting— stuff he thinks he can probably use or fix up and sell. Pretty much proven but I feel I should emphasize how bad it gets, like he needs to clean his room at least weekly or his room will be full of junk 😭 (he js like me fr)

- Great at impressions; I THINK this was included in the story at one point (?) but idk so I will mention it here. Give him a voice and he can mimic it pretty well (Brothers would def use this to their advantage for silly little schemes if mammon weren’t charging an arm and a leg for his services gn)

- Will engage in anything he finds interesting and stimulating; the reason he sucks ass in school isn’t really because hes dumb but he has a hard time focusing on shit that isnt stimulating (that’s kinda how it is for most people but like especially for him, he indulges heavily into freedom/temptation; usually won’t do anything he doesn’t want to)

- Blinged OUT. More rings, a gold necklace thing (those thick round ones), more ear piercings and i like the drawing someone did with his fangs being gold however ntm as the absence of such things also shows his balance between his heavenly virtue and deadly sin (Charity vs Greed) and how despite his sin he really can be a modest guy

- Markings should cover his face and be little portals that let him summon grabby hands and sometimes he gets you stuff and sends it through the portal on your body (your pact mark)

- Speaking of pact marks, I think his is on your heart or right above and is like a dripping fingerprint that turns into a full blown hand print (maybe even the monkey’s paw?) when his powers/benefits are being used; Its hard to describe the feeling but when his hand goes through it feels like you’re gagged right then and there and its a little bit hard to breathe when you first made the pact because its a little uncomfortable but as you got used to the sensation and nurtured your magic ability, your breathing went back to normal

- I promised myself I wasn’t gonna get into outfits too much because they’re. Um anyway all I’ll say is he should have some slutty bellbottoms in his demon form idgaf

A/N: im so sorry mammon fans for the neglect i didnt know what to really put since crows are just like. Silly feathery black blobs

Leviathan: The Serpent

- He should have poisonous spines on his tail that lie dormant but flare up whenever he feels strong emotion (embarrassment, anger, jealousy etc) and in relation to that he should have a few scales visible on his neck but more should appear leading up his face to his eye when he feels these strong emotions like his skin hardens and turns to scales (almost like how our veins bulge when we humans get very angry) it would be cool af ngl and kinda fits how his voice changes when hes annoyed (I SWEAR it gets all deep and like gravelly ig)

- ALSO i mentioned in another post but his eyes should become super snake-like (pupils slimming down) when he gets angry/envious but adding onto that, his pupils should dilate like a cat when he feels a positive emotion like excitement (though I think his pupils would dilate when looking at you lovingly, if you flustered him his pupils would constrict, not because its negative, but because he doesn’t know how to handle it)

- Grows much taller in his demon form imo since sea serpents are big as hell (he doesn’t become a giant or anything but he does grow like a foot or so which. He might as well be a giant bc hes alr pretty tall) Honestly I think all demons grow in their demon forms but he just grows an exceptional amount compared to any other demon

- Two…. Nvm iykyk fr a certified hood classic and i dont see enough of it in fics 😒

- Often accidentally sticks out his tongue while angry and bites his tongue and it just ruins the mood as well as any fear anyone had of him bye. Hes so goofy i just love him

- Long ahh tongue; snake reminiscent

- The back of his slut zip jacket should be vaguely shaped like fins + would it be wrong to say he should have slutty bellbottoms too? Can’t I dream? 💭 not as wide as Mammon’s though he’s not doing it like him fr

- Wraps his tail around you as if trying to shield you from public view with his spines whenever he gets jealous or protective

- I think it would be cool if the design on his jacket was a fishbone or if his tail was a bit translucent and showed bones inside (Ik tails don’t have bones generally but bear with me here) as a reference to how the Leviathan became a meal after being defeated

- Subconsciously moves slowly and methodically like the way he leans his head in slowly as you talk is very snake of him

- Big yawn (can open his mouth really wide)

- Pact mark is on the side of your neck, a bit closer to the front though and is shaped like a scale initially but grows into a very large patch of black scales with a purple underside, covering everything in the area almost like a bad rash when you use his powers/benefits

- Activation feels as if you’re being suffocated slowly, like water is slowly entering your lungs as the “rash” spreads at first but, again, as you get used to it this sensation wears off but a feeling that won’t ever wear off when activating the pact mark is the feeling that Levi is there looming by your side through the mark but just out of view whenever you try to see him; it’s a little maddening

- Can find you with sth similar to echolocation and it’s especially effective in water; can also spread the scales further with enough willpower and/or jealousy, basically creating a shield for your body

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 1 year

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Making a Move

Summary: Spencer's been seeing someone new, and the last thing he wants is to mess this up

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 1.8k

Hotch called a meeting over the phone, and the team is waiting for him and Rossi at the Roundtable. In the meantime, everyone else has made their stops at the coffee machine, Spencer included. He was having his second cup (the first one was from his apartment), but he didn’t need the team to know that. Although not as romantic as expected, his late night was worth the extra yawns and blurred vision. He’d rather the team not know about that too.

“What’s got you so tired, kid?”

Too late.

Morgan fiddles with a pen between his fingers. As he asks, his eyebrow arches; he’s ready for an answer. His question brings everyone’s eyes to him.

“Nothing,” Spencer says.

“Nothing?” He knows that’s not it. The pact to not profile each other basically ended before it started. “Cause this is the third time in the past two weeks you’ve come in here yawning like every ten seconds.”

“It’s nothing. Maybe I need more coffee.”

Garcia pokes her head up from behind her laptop. “You never have more than one cup of coffee at the office unless you really need it.” She’s still typing while looking at him. “You don’t even suggest it. Until now.” Typing halts, and Spencer sees the realization in her eyes. He knows he can’t stop the tide from coming. “Ooo, what’s his name?”

“It’s not a guy.” Spencer sips his coffee, sugar granules sliding over his tongue as he swallows.

“So it’s a girl.” Prentiss butts in with a smirk.

Spencer rubs his hand on his forehead.

“It is!” Garcia unleashes a squeal. “Okay, what’s her name?” Her magenta nails are out like a cat exposing its claws, and Spencer knows she’s prepared to start a free background check.

“He’s not going to tell us,” Prentiss says.

“What about her job? What does she do?”

A kindergarten teacher. “Not saying that either,” Spencer replies.

“Well, has anything happened between you two?” Morgan joins back in.

Just hello and goodbye hugs.

“Guys,” J.J. calls. She’s standing by the projector, remote in hand. “It’s Spence’s business. He’ll tell us when he wants to. Okay?” She uses her mom voice, and Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if the following words out of her mouth were, “If I hear another word about this, you’re all grounded.” It’s comforting, even though he knew she’d have his back.

Sighs of disappointment and protest around the table were not subtle, but they were as close to a verbal “okay” as she was getting. J.J. accepts it anyway and eventually takes a seat. Garcia leans over and asks about Hotch and Rossi, likely regarding where they could be. Spencer wonders the same thing; so they can get started.

And because Morgan keeps staring at him. He’s eager for Spencer to spill. He even leans over. “Seriously, kid, nothing?”

“I’m not afraid to tattle,” Spencer whispers back. He finds his book, The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He read it a couple days ago, yet opened a page and busied himself with the paperback. Morgan’s eyes are still staring. He’s not letting this go, even if this briefing led to the jet. Spencer makes the mistake of looking back at him for a moment, and he has no choice. He turned the page of his book and mumbled, “I want something to happen, though.” He bites his lips closed when the words finally leave them.

Spencer’s opened the door, welcoming Morgan and his sleazy smile. Something he — hell — that they’ve all seen and grown too familiar with at bars and clubs. “Alright, that’s what I like to hear.” He shakes Spencer’s bony shoulder. “My man.”

Spencer can’t help but grin, not in response, but because of last night. He was worried you’d consider him cheap or creepy for choosing to watch a movie at his apartment instead of the theater. He was hoping to make a move. Spencer thought you looked so cozy in your polka-dot sweater; he wished he could reach out and touch the material. It looked so soft. But all the mistakes he made might’ve ruined the chance for that.

“What’d you do?” Morgan whispers.

“I sat too far away at first. I tried moving closer but… I didn’t want to come off as weird. Then I excused myself to get some water, but then it still didn’t feel right and —”

“So you chickened out?”

“I didn’t chicken out.”

He chickened out.

“Okay, well, it’s good you’re not all over her. You’re giving her space and showing her respect. But Reid,” He ruffles his hair. Spencer smiles, and it’s the only thing that keeps J.J. from giving a lecture. “You’ve been on three dates. She likes you, man. She’s probably waiting.”

“But what if she —”

“She does. And you need to go in knowing that and display some confidence. When are you seeing her again?”

“Tonight. We’re getting ice cream.” Spencer tries to suppress his lips curling. It doesn’t work.

“See. Now let me give you some pointers.”

It’s been a while since Spencer’s built such a natural rapport with someone, especially someone in a field furthest away from the grim glimpses of humanity he sees.

He surprised you with a visit during your lunch last week. The vibrant colors in your wardrobe match your classroom. The walls covered in handmade decorations and class-made crafts are a refreshing difference from the dark basements and fluorescent-lit interrogation rooms. The light in your eyes when discussing your students is something Spencer doesn’t get to see often, and he didn’t want to lose it by moving too fast.

Displaying confidence was something that came naturally to Morgan. “Displaying” didn’t feel honest, Spencer thought, more like a front. Then again, that’s what all displays really were. Spencer’s only known how to be himself. Morgan does have a point, though. He’s already been on three dates. So being himself has worked so far. But he’s sure he needs a little more.

On the walk to the agreed-upon spot, Spencer grips the strap of his satchel as he trudges uphill. It helps him burn off the nervous energy as he gets closer. But when he sees you sitting at one of the outdoor tables, he’s reminded again why he should be. You’re wearing a flowy yellow dress and white tennis shoes. The one difference from last night is the ends of your hair, brunette roots leading to dark pink ends.

You stand up and start walking toward him, beaming already. “Hey!” Your arms are already out, and you hug. Spencer notes you smell like coconut.

“Hey, you,” He tries to make it sound natural. His hand lingers at your waist for a second. “Your hair,” That same hand touches the ends. “It’s pretty.” He smiles, taking in your individuality. He thinks about how much you and Garcia would get along.

“Thank you,” your brightness radiates as you giggle. “It’s the most I can get away with at school, so I figured I might as well push the limits while I can. Plus, the kids love it.”

Spencer’s brain immediately goes to statistics about school dress codes and how they likely change the following year. He holds back. Morgan’s taught him that sharing statistics can apparently kill the mood. He even reminded him before Spencer left (early). “I’m sure they do.”

Your eyebrows quirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, doll, I’m fine.” He tries again, but it’s taking everything for him not to cringe in front of you.

“No, you’re acting weird.” You cross your arms.

“Am I?” Spencer’s chest tightens.

“Oh yeah.” You snicker. “What’s up? Tell me about it.”

Spencer doesn’t exactly know how to say, “I really like you but I’m terrified of messing this up so I’m attempting to put on a terrible impression of a macho man because I want to kiss you and I feel like being myself isn’t going to get me anywhere” in a form that’s going to sound coherent and not like a crazy ramble that ends in you running away. So he doesn’t say it at all.

“Spencer,” You reach out to hold his hand. “You can tell me.”

“I…” He feels like he’ll stumble over his words before he gets a sentence out. He looks at you, and your grip tightens a little. He returns the gesture. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Mess what up exactly?”

“Well, this.” He moves his hand where his thumb is on top. “I like you a lot.”

“Oh, well, I like you too!” You say. “We’re on the same page there. So how could you mess this up?”

“Because I don’t know how to make the first move. I don’t want to push you.” The wind blows, and both of you push hair out of your faces, and Spencer tries not to lose his thoughts. “I even let one of my coworkers give me pointers on how to be… smoother.”

You try hard not to laugh, but it slips out, and the insecurity on Spencer’s face spreads. “Is this the one you told me about? Dirk Morgan?”

“Derek Morgan. But, yeah, him.”

“Okay, Doctor,” You step closer, and now both your hands lead up to his biceps. Spencer cautiously moves his hands to your waist. He’s hesitant about public displays of affection, but you started it, and he won’t be the one to end it so soon. “I’m going to bring you into my field for a minute. I’m assigning you a pop quiz.”

Spencer’s mouth quirks a little, wondering where this is going.

“I have no doubt you’ll ace it.”

“I’m usually good at acing things. Exams, tests, quizzes.”

“Good. It’s one question: am I dating Derek Morgan?” Your thumbs glided back and forth against his cardigan.

“Are we dating?”

“We’ve been on dates. Therefore: dating.”

“Then, no, you are not dating Derek Morgan.”

“Congratulations, Dr. Reid, you got a 100.” You push yourself up on your toes to kiss him gently. You both pause for a moment. His hands trail to your back as yours glide to hang on his neck. His breath is extra minty for six in the evening, and it made you realize that was the move he wanted to make. “Feel better? Now that that’s out of the way?”

Spencer leans in to kiss you again. His response is clear when he pulls you in to make it deeper, but still innocent. When you open your eyes, you can see the weight that’s been lifted, a weight you lifted.

“Next time you feel like making a move, you’re more than welcome to go for it. Okay? You have my permission to go for it.”

“What if I don’t know your boundaries?”

“Just ask.” You put your feet flat on the ground, but other than that, neither of you moves or shifts eye contact. “Spencer, I like you the way you are. You don’t need some sort of smooth rhetoric to make me fall further for you.”

Spencer, once again, fails to hide the smirk as it grows. “You’ve… fallen for me?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” He says quickly. “It’s more than okay.”

Thank you for all the love from the last fic. I'm glad so many of you liked it 🥹 For anyone curious, I don't have a schedule. I just write and upload when I have something. I'm focusing on getting back into writing so feel free to send oneshot ideas if you have any. Thanks again 🩵

“Good. Now let’s get ice cream.”

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kozumesphone · 4 months

Note

hi hi hi can i please get a percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite reader?? basically she’s all about the love part of Aphrodite and she’s talking about it constantly and he’s her friend and kinda realises like oh wait i’m in love w her

does that make sense?? also can i get a moodboard w it?? <33

thank you and ily!

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ BROOKLYN BABY .ᐟ

⤷ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and the heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . y/n constantly yaps about the idea of love to her best friend, percy, and he realises he has feelings for her. (annie’s y/n’s close friend too! i’m too nice to make her an angry b </3) also!! y/n has brown eyes solely bc brown eyes are pretty asf and not talked about enough <3 + ft. best friends to lovers, minor gods dissing (like one time), y/n reading the cruel prince (not directly mentioned), percy having an ‘uh oh, i’m in love’ moment, and a book bouquet. p.s. moodboard at the end!

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n: your name | y/l/n: your last name | n/n: nickname

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.4k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . hdkwjdkw 1/8 asks complete lmao. this req was so cute!! I love reading the ‘moment of realisation’ dialogues in books, but it was especially fun to write it for the first time. it was a little weird to write only bc i’m a cabin 3 kid irl but it’s okay 😭 for the sake of a fluffy fic, I powered through, guys <3

2 years ago . . .

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“some kid killed a minotaur!” a hermes cabin demigod yelled from near the dining pavilion. glancing up from our glasses of soda, annabeth and I turned towards the voice. “he’s a new one!”

we looked at each other, wondering which god couldn’t keep it in their pants again.

suddenly, a few apollo kids ran out from the infirmary towards the arch near thalia’s tree.

“the new kid’s probably clumsy,” annabeth said.

“he killed a minotaur,” I shot back.

“hey, you can be dumb and strong at the same time.”

“uh huh. whose child do you think he is? I bet it’s one of the big three.” I said.

“no way, they have a pact, remember-”

“do you really think they actually follow that, annie?” I snickered at her.

in a while, an unconscious boy about their age was carried into the infirmary. I only caught sight of his black hair, and dishevelled and bloody look. I decided to visit him the next day to check up on his condition.

the rest of the day was spent reading in my cabin, while my sisters tried new makeup products on our brother, which was quite funny, really.

throughout the next week, I left the warmth of my bed to visit the new kid—percy jackson—in the infirmary. he had begun to regain consciousness.

“who are you?” he asked, sharply inhaling a breath.

“oh, hey,” I smiled at him. “i’m y/n y/l/n. daughter of aphrodite.”

“right. daughter of aphrodite. a goddess,” he repeated slowly.

I realised that no one had explained about camp half-blood to him yet, and took that job upon myself after calling out for will and letting him know that his patient was awake.

“so, there’s gods and goddesses. and monsters. and everything in the greek myths you were taught? they’re all real. at camp half-blood, we’re all demigods—the children of a god or goddess and a mortal.” I continued to explain to him how the demigod world worked, remembering to talk about the mist, the gods, the cabins, and everything else.

I expected him to not believe me, and call me names (like the other new campers) for lying, but he took it like a champ. he nodded at me, sitting up properly, and asked for something so his arm would stop paining. I immediately got will to help him.

the next week, when I was out by the beach, reading my romance novel about a mortal girl and a faerie prince falling in love after being enemies, I heard sand shifting around behind me.

“who-” I turned around.

“hey, y/n, right?” percy asked, walking closer.

“ah, you remember,” I said, a smile growing on my face.

“well, yeah. you’re really just the only person who has spoken to me normally… and not like I was some intimidating and scary… thing,” he said, running his hands through his already dishevelled hair.

“come, sit down.” I patted the sand beside me. he took his place there, sitting down with his legs criss-crossed.

“what are you reading?” he asked.

I explained to him the plot, setting, characters, and everything about the book I was reading for the next few hours.

we sat there till dusk, watching the sun set into pretty hues of pink, purple, and orange.

“it’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I asked.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

“yeah, it is.” I replied to her, eyes fixed on her side profile.

wow. she’s so beautiful.

timeskip: present

“perce!” y/n called loudly, running towards me.

“heyyyy! n/n, you’re back! how was the quest? did you get hurt or anything?” I asked, hugging her, and then moving back to scan her for injuries.

“i’m fine, perce, all good. I got will to check me out and he cleared me,” she said, grinning. her face was swiped with dirt and grime, but she still looked like she was an ethereal princess who walked out of one of her books. “what? have I got a lot of dirt on my face?”

“nah, you’re cool. ‘s pretty.” I said, and she laughed—my favourite sound in the entire world. “and anyway, you need to change out of these clothes and meet me outside your cabin. I have something for you.”

“what is it?”

“that’s a surprise-”

“I hate surprises.”

“you’ll like this one,” I winked at her, as she laughed again.

timeskip

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

I changed into casual loose sweatpants and a shirt since it was summer.

ah, summer. one of most romantic seasons ever. the breeze whipping around a girl’s hair, as a boy runs towards her with flowers. the sunlight falling onto their faces as they share a kiss. watching the sun set in pretty shades everyday with each other. that was summer.

everything about it reminded me of percy. watching sunsets, seeing the sunlight fall on his face after he gets out of the water. the flowers, now dry, that he gifted me for every special occasion.

it was hard to admit that I liked him more than I would like any friend. i’d never picked up any hints from him, that might’ve signalled that he liked me, no matter how many of my siblings told me he did.

all friends hold hands, right? and all good friends wish each other a good morning and good night everyday. what was so special? the flowers?

“hey, n/n!” percy’s voice dragged me out of my thoughts. he was dressed in loose shorts and a hawaii button up, and my gods, he looked so gorgeous.

“perce! at least tell me where we’re going now,” I groaned.

“nuh-uh. a surprise is a surprise.” he brought out a blindfold and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrow at him. “put it on. i’ll take you there.”

“I swear to gods, if this turns out to be a prank-”

“shh, it won’t. now put it on,” he promised.

I walked closer to him and put on the blindfold, and he turned me around a few times to make sure I wouldn’t figure out where we’re going. I scoffed at his childish actions.

as he was standing behind me, I felt his warmth on my back. he took my arms at my side and urged me to walk ahead.

he manoeuvred me in different directions and finally stopped after a while.

“you ready, princess?” he asked. the nickname did something to cause butterflies in my stomach.

“yeah,” I whispered.

he took off the blindfold, and it was too bright for a second. I shielded my eyes and groaned, before letting them adjust to the harsh sunlight.

I looked around and saw a huge, fluffy blanket laid down on the grass of the fields. a basket with food was set in one corner and a bouquet in the centre.

specifically, a book bouquet.

“PERCY, HOW DID YO-”

“surprise,” he grinned, as I turned around and hugged him. he’d always given me gifts when I returned from quests, but this was, by far, the best.

“how’d you know all my favourites?” I asked, looking at the 10 romance novels on the blanket.

“oh, annie helped,” he said enthusiastically. “should we sit down and start eating? you can tell me all about the people in your books, and why you like romance books especially, yeah?”

smiling, we sat down on the blankets, and ate away with no care in the world.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

as she talked about her books for the next few hours, I could only think about how beautiful her brown eyes were, especially when the sunlight hit them at the correct angle. how soft her lips looked as her mouth moved at a faster pace than her thoughts. how perfect her cheeks were, smiling wide. how amazing she was. how smart and beautiful she was.

when did my feelings of friendship turn into love, for her?

as she continued to speak of the love between her favourite characters, I noticed her longing for a similar love. I could give that to her, couldn’t I?

wait. what? what am I even thinking? y/n’s my best friend.

“love is everywhere, in every gesture, every glance. it’s the thread that binds us together, connecting hearts across time and space,” she said.

and at that moment, I knew I was done for.

I was hopelessly in love with my best friend.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite — the love like in her books <3

taglist — @nuncscioquidsitamor-14 @mqstermindswift @puffoz @skeelly @urmomabby @sunnitheapollokid @jgracie @canonfeminine @cinemaconrad @totokyo @urbanflorals @aezuria @thetunnelunderoceanboulevard @cherigall @percabethluvr @pjoverseluvr @maybxlle @mershellscape @riordanness @starlitszn @metyouattherighttime @a-beautiful-fool @sequinsnstars @ssparksflyy @fayvpor @iheartgirlzn

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

#skye's cafe ~ ⋆.˚#⭑𓂃 skye’s riordanverse !#skye.jpg🧸—#𝜗𝜚 skye's asks #percy jackson the man that you are #ngl every pjo and hoo bf is so book bouquet coded #I love percy sm tho #such. A. CUTIE.#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #daughter of aphrodite #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fanfic #oneshot #pjo one shot #percy jackson one shot

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Text

Promises Are Meant to be Broken

- Theodore Nott x fem!Reader, Lorenzo Berkshire x fem!reader

summary: As childhood best friends, Enzo and you made a pact to date and get married before leaving to Hogwarts together. But as you get older, that promise begins to fade in your memory, as opposed to Enzo because it’s all he can think about.

Disclaimer: ok so I know I promised to not write another fic about Theo, but, well…. read the title. Plus, this fic includes Enzo as a romantic-ish partner so…. yeah! also it was my blogs official 2 years as of 4 days ago! Thank you to everyone who enjoys my stories and keeps this mess of a (v hyper fixated) blog alive 💗

***

“When we’re older, if we both aren’t dating someone by 16, we’ll date each other.” 4 year old Enzo said to you, as you were both playing in the forest by your house.

“And if we aren’t married by 21, we’ll marry each other.” You had said, jumping into the river to cool yourself off from the boiling July weather.

“You promise?” Enzo responded, tentatively dipping a toe in.

“I promise.” You said, before grabbing his hand and pulling him in.

—-

“Hey Enzo, pass me that book please. The purple one.” You said, hoping to find the answers to your homework in there.

“Yeah, here you go.” He said as he passed it to you, smiling as he did so.

“Merlin, do any of you know how to do this?” Theo asked from beside you, struggling on his transfiguration homework.

“Just copy mine, it’s in my bag.” Pansy said, not looking up from her potions essay.

“Thanks P, you’re a life saver.”

You and your best friends were all sitting in the library doing your homework, trying to get ahead of it for the week since you all planned to throw a party this Friday.

You had been friends with most of them since childhood, Enzo and your friendship going the farthest back. Your friend group was extremely close, and you all always chose to spend as much time together as possible.

“I can’t do this anymore, I give up.” Mattheo said, slamming his textbook shut.

“Then give up on getting drunk this weekend.” Blaise said, knowing exactly how to motivate Mattheo.

He made an exasperated groan before opening his book again and going back to his work.

“I say we enchant the bottles so they turn to water every time he tries to drink.” Theo whispered to you, smirking at the thought.

You giggled quietly at his joke, staring into his deep blue eyes.

You both kept eye contact for a little longer than necessary before Enzo loudly cleared his throat.

You turned to look at him, giving him a confused look. He pretended he didn’t see it.

Enzo had had a crush on you for as long as he could remember, and been in love with you for a couple months now. He had hoped that you would’ve kept your promise to each other about dating when you turned 16, but seeing as there were only 2 months left in your 6th year he doubted it would ever happen. He wished he had the courage to tell you, but he was so afraid he would ruin your friendship. Draco kept telling him he could play it off as a joke if he ever brought it up, but Enzo knew you. He knew you’d never believe him. Plus, he was sure Theo had a crush on you. And, could he really compete with Theodore Nott? With his 6’4 frame, dark curly hair, brooding stare, and perfect smile?

“Alright, I’m done.” You said, taking him out of his trance.

He was about to speak up and offer to leave with you, but somebody beat him to it.

“I’ll walk back with you. If I stare at this book for one more second my head will explode.” Theo said, packing up his things before grabbing your bag and his.

How Enzo wished his head would explode. He felt bad thinking these things about his best friend, but he couldn’t help it. The girl of his dreams was on the line.

“See you guys later.” You said, and Theo gave the group a nod before putting his hand on the small of your back and leading you both out of the library.

The simple touch erupted butterflies in your stomach. Every touch and look from Theo did. Your crush on Theo was growing stronger and stronger every month, every year, every day. How could it not? He was always doing the cutest things, and Pansy was always feeding your delusions.

“I think I’m going to go take a nap, i feel like a zombie.” You told Theo once you had both entered the Slytherin common room.

“Come sleep in my dorm, I don’t wanna be alone.” Theo said, making a silly pouty face to convince you.

“Fine, but only if you let me borrow clothes.”

“Your wish is my command, principessa.” He said, making you blush. You loved when he used that nickname.

You both quickly made your way towards his dorm, laughing and giggling the entire way up at jokes Theo was making. He really was the funniest guy you knew.

“Here we are.” Theo said, as he opened the door for you.

“Thanks, Teddy.” You said, walking into his shared dorm with Mattheo and Enzo. He blushed at the nickname, and hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You’d spent countless hours here, drunk after parties, doing homework, just hanging out. Their dorm was like your second home. You made your way to Theo’s bed where you plopped yourself down and took off your Mary Jane’s.

“Ok, I want a hoodie. Please.” You said, adding the please after and throwing in a sweet smile.

“Yes ma’am.” He said, walking over to his closet and strategically picking out his Quidditch hoodie that had his name written on the back.

He handed it to you and you thanked him before you began unbuttoning your school shirt.

His gaze lingered on you before you gave him a jokingly seductive look which struck him out of his trance. You giggled as he turned away and watched him quickly fix his pants, and take a couple deep breathes before going to take off his own school shirt to change into some comfortable clothes.

You gaze lingered on his abs, chiseled to perfection due to Quidditch. He changed into a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, which didn’t help your case.

“Ughh, I’m ready to sleep.” He said, embracing you in a hug and laying on top of you.

“Mmph mpaoood.” You said, your voice muffled by his chest.

“What?” He said, laughing, putting his arms on either side of you and lifting his body so he was looking down on you.

“I said: me too!” You said, giggling, before putting your arms around his neck.

“Let’s go to sleep then.” He said, begrudgingly taking himself out of your embrace and getting up to turn the lights off and shut the curtains.

You put yourself under the covers and snuggled into Theo’s bed, his scent all over the sheets putting you in a dreamlike state.

“Sleep tight.” Theo said, admiring the way you looked with his name sprawled over your back.

He held you tightly, and you snuggled into his chest before falling into a peaceful sleep.

___

“Shut the fuck up!” Mattheo said loudly, entering his dorm room with Enzo following close behind, his laugh echoing on the walls.

“Oh shit, the lovebirds are sleeping.” Mattheo said, covering his mouth and dropping his voice to a whisper.

“Huh?” Enzo asks, before stepping into the room and seeing the horrific sight.

You and Theo, both in Theo’s bed, wrapped in a tight embrace, your breaths following the same pattern.

“Fuck off.” Enzo mumbled under his breath, before dropping his things and storming out of the room, leaving a confused Mattheo behind.

—-

“You’re the best!” You say to Enzo, who brought you back a drink.

The music was booming so loudly you could feel it vibrating through your body. The dark green lights were swimming around the room, engulfing everybody. You had just made your way out of the crowded dance floor, which you had easily convinced Enzo to follow you into.

He sat down next to you, spreading his legs and putting his arm on the top of the couch behind you.

“This dress looks really nice on you, y/n.” He said, staring intently at you as he sips out of his own cup.

“Thanks, Enzo. You’re outfit is nice too.” You said, looking at his slightly unbuttoned white shirt with black pants. Simple, but nice.

“You bought me this shirt.”

“Oh that’s right! No wonder I like it.” You said, causing Enzo to chuckle.

“Anyway, I can’t believe Michelle actually showed up.” You said, continuing the conversation. You loved gossiping with Enzo, you two always knew everything going around Hogwarts.

“I know, the nerve. I mean if it was just Draco I would get it, but it’s Pansy’s party too.” He said, referring to the girl who attempted to date Draco even though Pansy and him were “together.”

“Totally. I mean when she tried snogging him they technically weren’t labeled, but everyone knew they were together.” You said, Enzo’s face so close to yours so that you could both here the conversation over the blasting music.

“Yeah-“ He begins, before he’s cut off my Mattheo.

“Yo mate, where’s the extra fire-whiskey.” He says, wobbling over, clear that he doesn’t need any more alcohol.

“Under the black chair.” Enzo says, nodding to the chair, barely taking his eyes off you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite.” He says, causing you to scoff. He begins to walk off before you speak up, and he turns back to you.

“Where’s Theo?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Mattheo responded, and Enzo’s eyes are now on the ground, a mean look on his face.

“He said he was gonna go smoke with you though?”

“That prick, he never shares his weed. But no, I haven’t seen him.”

“What? Where is he then?”

“Probably shagging some girl.” Enzo says with a nasty voice.

You turn to him bewildered.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Mattheo said, trying to save his best friend. He knew of Theo’s huge crush on you and he wasn’t going to let him get a bad image with you. Enzo, on the other hand, hadn’t told anyone about his feelings for you.

You give Mattheo a small smile before looking down at your cup.

“He’s probably outside or something, you know how he is. He’s not with some girl, trust me.” Mattheo says, reassuring you.

“You’re right. I’m gonna go look for him.”

Mattheo smirks, hoping tonight will finally be the night Theo mans up and asks you out.

“Wait-“ Enzo starts, but you’re already off.

—-

You make your way up the astronomy tower’s stairs, the last place you can think of to find Theo. The summer weather engulfs you like a warm blanket, and a gentle breeze keeps you from breaking any sort of sweat. The moon and stars are shining so brightly it’s as if you’ve just casted a Lumos charm. As you finally take the last steps and climb onto the platform, you see Theo’s tall frame, facing away from you, leaning on the railing.

“Teddy?” You call out softly, causing him to turn around.

The smoke from his blunt creates a cloudy haze around him, and his eyes are bloodshot, although you can’t tell if it’s due to the drug or if he’s been crying. He smiles softly when he sees you.

“Hey, you.” He opens his arms for you, and you quickly make your way to him. He immediately engulfs you into a tight embrace and puts his face into your hair.

“You ok?” You ask, voice slightly muffled by his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Just been thinking too much.” He says, as he unwraps himself from around your body.

“Probably all the fire-whiskey I drank.” He says, chuckling. You giggle softly and place yourself next to him on the railing, looking out to the night sky.

“What have you been thinking about?” You ask. You’ve always reassured Theo that he could come to you whenever he needs it, and as much as he appreciates it he just can’t find it in him to express his emotions to others. It makes you feel slightly guilty because he’s always the first one there when you’re feeling down. It used to be Enzo, but it’s been Theo’s arms you’ve been crying into recently.

“Just life. And my place in it.” He says, taking a drag from his blunt.

“What’s your place in it?” You ask, trying to nonchalantly get him to open up.

“Just my place in others lives. I feel like I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your eyes flicking around his face, trying to search for answers.

“I just feel like I don’t add anything to anyone’s life. Like I’m just a background character. Someone with no importance. Like… like as if nobody needs me.” He says, a soft and sad smile on his face, trying to not worry you with his feelings.

Your quiet for a second, your brain racking around how a boy who brings so much happiness to everyone’s lives could possibly feel this way. A boy who so easily made you fall in love with who he is, without even trying. The wind picks up, and begins blowing with a calming hum.

“I do. I need you.” You finally say, the alcohol in your system making you completely honest.

Theo’s face lifts up to look directly at you, his eyes searching for meaning in yours. Had you really just said what he thought you did? Was this you being friendly, or possibly, hopefully, something more? He reached his hand up to put a piece of hair blown into your face by the wind behind your ear.

“I need you. I need you more than anything actually.” He says, voice soft and sweet.

“I think of you every second I’m awake, and dream of you every second I’m asleep. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, y/n.” He says, sweetly but firmly, wanting to leave no doubt about his feelings in your mind.

“You have no idea how much I’ve daydreamed about you saying that.” You said, putting your hand over his, leaving it on your cheek.

“I think I have an idea, considering it’s all I’ve done for as long as I can remember.” He says, his body now towering over you.

“I feel like I’m dreaming right now.” You say, looking intently into his eyes.

Suddenly, he leans down and his lips are quickly on yours. It takes you a second to kiss back, since you were taken aback by the suddenness of it, but you quickly recuperate and kiss him back eagerly.

The kiss is hungry and earnest, but loving and kind. He tastes sweet and his arms around you are suddenly making you weak in the knees. Your hands make your way to his hair, getting lost in the brown curls.

Your tongues dance together, exploring each other’s mouths. After a little while you both pull away from each other in an attempt to catch your breathes.

“Do you still feel like your dreaming?” He asks, smiling.

“Much more than before, now.” You say giggling, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve had to hold myself back from kissing you.” He says, causing you both to laugh more.

“I wish you hadn’t. This could’ve happened so much sooner.”

“Yeah, after that kiss I wish I hadn’t either. It was better than I ever even imagined.”

You giggle and turn away as your cheeks turn pink. His fingers softly grab your chin, turning you back to face him.

“Now that that’s happened, I don’t want to lose you.” He says, seriously.

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it.” You say, smirking playfully. He smiles at you and chuckles as he lightly shakes his head.

“Y/n, can I be your boyfriend?” He asks, making deep eye contact.

“I’d be an idiot if I said no.” You say, before reaching up to connect your lips once again.

—-

It had been almost a week of you officially dating Theo and you couldn’t be happier. None of your friends were surprised when you started dating, seeing as it had been painfully obvious to everyone but you two that you both liked each other. Since you were both in the same friend group, it wasn’t difficult to balance your friend-life with your relationship-life, making it all 100x easier. The only thing that seemed slightly out of place, was your relationship with Enzo. You hadn’t seen much of him the past few days, and would even say he seemed…. angry with you? You couldn’t really tell, but your happiness due to finally dating Theo outweighed all your worries tenfold.

—

It’s officially been a week from Friday, and your making your way to the library to return some books you had finally finished using. As you walked into the quiet and calming atmosphere, you noticed Enzo sitting alone at a table, his notes spread out in front of him. You smiled lightly, wanting to speak to your best friend who you’ve missed so much. You’d barely spoken to him all week, and all your conversations seemed to be cut extremely short by one of his “activities.”

“Hey Enzo.” You say sweetly, sitting down in a chair next to him.

He looks up at you with a strange expression on his face before looking back down at his essay.

“So… how’s your week been?” You ask, attempting to fill the awkward silence and converse with him.

“Fine.” He says, not even glancing in your direction.

You take a deep breath.

“Is everything alright with you? Have I done something?” You ask, confused on why he was acting this way.

“No.”

“Enzo, please. I know you. What are you upset about?”

“Nothing.”

“Enzo!” You say, exasperated, wishing he would tell you what was wrong so you could help fix it.

“Merlin y/n, are you really this dim-witted?” He says rudely, looking up at you for the first time.

“What…?” You ask, taken aback by his cruelty.

“Whatever, I’m done.” He says, as he begins to quickly pack up his things, shoving papers and books into his bag hastily.

“Enzo, please. Just talk to me.” You say, desperate not to lose your best friend over something you don’t even understand. You quickly get up, picking up your pace to keep up with his.

“Just leave me alone y/n.” He says, picking up his own pace. Heads turn to you two, and you can hear the whispers.

“Enzo just talk to me!” You say, reaching for his arm as your exiting the library.

He shakes your hand off. “I don’t want to talk to you! What do you not understand?” He says, stopping brusquely and turning to face you.

Your taken aback by his sudden stop and almost lose your balance.

“Why not? What have I done?!”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” He says, beginning to walk away again.

You react quickly enough to grab his arm and pull him into an empty classroom before shutting the door.

“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what it is that I’ve done to upset you.”

“Nice try.” He says, before attempting to push past you.

“Enzo don’t do this to me, please. I miss you.” You beg.

“Oh you miss me? Really? Well it doesn’t seem like that ever since him.” He says, anger extremely evident in his voice.

“Him? You mean Theo?” You ask, confused.

“Yes of course I mean Theo.” He says sassily.

“What does Theo have to do with this? I’ve been trying to make time for you but you’re the one who’s always busy!” You say, anger rising in your own voice at his selfishness.

“You don’t understand, do you?” He says, searching in your face for answers.

“What do I not understand?” You ask, already extremely upset with him.

“That I’m fucking in love with you y/n!” He says, his hands flying up to his hair.

“What..?”

“Merlin I’ve been in love with you for years. And I thought you felt the same way until you went off with that git!”

“That git? You mean your best friend? And.. why would you even think that? And why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You ask, spewing out questions rapidly.

He was quiet for a minute, at a loss for words.

“You’re telling me you’ve never felt anything towards me? Ever? We promised each other we would end up together!”

“Enzo we were 4!” You say, bewildered by his claims.

“Ok? It was still a promise!”

“Yeah, one we made when we were 4! Do you not understand how stupid you sound?!”

“That promise meant something to me! I’ve waited every second of every day until we turned 16 until we could finally be together! I thought you had forgotten since we never worked out, but now I know you just never cared enough.” He said, voice filled with sadness.,

“It’s not that I didn’t care Enzo! I care so much for you, but I… I just don’t love you. I’m in love with Theo.”

“God, please don’t say his name.” He says, his eyes filled with hurt.

“I’ll say his name all I want.” You spit out, bitterly.

His face falls even more so than before, his eyes brimming with tears.

“You promised me you’d be with me, and then you go out with my best friend! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He says, a crazy look in his eyes as he rubs his face.

“Yeah, well, promises are meant to be broken.” You say, tears silently falling from your eyes. You couldn’t believe the way Enzo was acting, you’d never seen him like this. In all his selfish glory. You should have actually listened to the rumors that came from his ex-girlfriends.

You turn around to reach for the door handle, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible.

“Y/n, wait!” He says, reaching for your hand to stop you from walking into the hallway.

“You’re my best friend, I don’t want this to end. Please.” He begs, tears still brimming in his eyes, his face and neck splotched with red.

“Let go of me.” You say, before shaking his hand off, and walking away. Leaving him standing in the doorway to wallow in his misery.

—-

Part 2?

#slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #theodore nott #jealousyfic #harry potter #theodore nott x y/n #angst #best friends #enzo berkshire #enzo x reader #promises

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