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alexsl-universe · 22 hours ago

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First Date

Summary: Trying to find a good guy to date you try tinder, after many failed attempts a guy catches your attention.

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Paring: TFWS!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 3292

Prompt: B1 "First Date"

A/N: Hello, I'm trying to post more of my writings, i wrote this a long time ago but didn't had courage to post before, just want to say that English is not my first language and any mistakes are mine, also this is for the Bucky Boy Bingo 2025 event, i write some for this event and i will try to post some in here, hope you enjoy it :)

Tiger fotos, holding fishes, couple wanting a third, “If no one knows no one can ruin”, which means open relationship but only for him, so many profiles but no one grabs your attention, mans who only want sex, but you want a real relationship, sex is good but you want someone to hug when you got home,

You scroll some more profiles and think if someone is worth the stress, until someone gets your attention, James Barnes, handsome and none red flags apparently, is a huge step up, you have similar interests and don't live far from each other.

James Barnes

Hi, glad to find someone without that stupid tiger or similar photos lol.

James: If i want someone nice i should display what i have to offer right? Saw you like Lord of The Rings, like more the movies or the books?

Got points for not going to some cheese pickup line, liked that

I’ve grow watching the movies but read the books when i got older, liked both, but movies got a special place in my heart, you?

James: Glad to know you liked me

Books have a immersion in a different way, but I like the movies too

Any other hobbies besides reading?

Hope you liked me too 😉

I don't do much besides reading a lot, the type that people got worried with the amount books I have, I also like to cook but I'm not the best

And what else do you like?

James: I'm liking you 😉

I like to do sports, nothing specific, exercise helps me to get my head in place

Wow, I imagine you must be really ripped then

I don't do much besides riding a bike sometimes

So…

Wanna meet in person? I really liked you and want to know you better

But just a date, I'm not a one night stand girl

James: I would love to meet you in person

And don't worry I'm not a one night stand neither

When can we meet?

You so nice, others guys just stop answering when sex is not guaranteed, you are getting a lot of points with me

You free on the weekend?

Saturday evening?

James: Hope i got enough to make you smile

It's good to me, where do you want to meet?

Do you like cats?

There's a new cat cafe i would like to go

James: Great, I love cats, send me the details and I will meet you there 😘

🥰

You send him the address and chat a bit through the days. He is cute but a bit shy and above all he is not trying to make you accept to have sex with him.

When Saturday came you get ready with some casual clothes, dark t-shirt, red plaid blouse, some comfort jeans and black all-star, with another look at the mirror you check and everything looks good, but you still got some butterflies in your stomach, you still don't know if he is the same person or he is lying about everything.

Your thoughts got calmer when he sends you messages about being anxious to meet you and making you smile like a little girl with his messages.

You two arrive almost together, with just a few minutes apart.

“Hi James, how are you?” you say getting close and smiling at him

“Hi, you waited a lot? I got lost trying to get here” he said a bit shy but also smiling to you

“No, just a little, I think not even five minutes” you said smiling to him

“Good” he say smiling to you “I bought you flowers” he says while handing you the small rose bouquet

“That's so cute James, thank you so much, you are the cutest guy I've been on a date” you say looking at the flowers “But I don't think we can get in with those, but i will definitely put them on my backpack” you say smiling

“That's okay, if you don't want you can leave here” he says a bit shy “Let's get in?”

“Sure!” you say happily, you always loved romantic gestures, but you are most sure that the last person who gave you flowers was your dad in some moment of your childhood

As you two get inside the staff says that the flowers need to be on your backpack inside the lockers in the entrance, and also explains how everything works, you can eat your food first then you can get to the cats, or the other way around, but never bring food to the cat area, you both decides to eat first.

“So, what a really nice and romantic guy like you is doing on tinder?” You ask sipping you hot cocoa on a mug that has cat whiskers draw on

“Let's just say I don't date anyone in a long time, so I took the tinder shortcut, hoping that I can get a date” he say drinking from a very similar mug but with coffee inside

“Oh sorry didn't mean to get you sad, I know how hard can it be” I say smiling trying to light up the mood “And if you may ask me, you're the best date I've ever had”

“Thank you” he says shyly sipping his coffee again “If you may ask me you're one of the kindest women that I've went on a date with” he smiles to me

“Thank you” you say feeling your cheeks get a bit hot. “Want to see the menu?” you say pointing at our side

“I… don't think I've had nothing like those foods, you can pick something for me if you want”

“No problem, but first I need to know you a bit more” you say resting your elbows on the table and holding your face with your hands “What you like in the food?”

“Simple, like jam, not much fancy desserts or lot of mixed flavors”

“Hmm, let me see what they got in the menu for you” you grabbing the plastic object and reading some of the plates “I think you will like ‘kitten bread’ is puff pastry in the shape of a cat's paw with some deli meats on top” you say showing him the picture of the menu

“Looks tasty, let's eat that” he say noding with his head

“And ‘Meowve Jelly’ is a pave with jelly, each flavor came with a different cat expression” I point at it picture a bit lower on the menu

“They have one with plums, I love plums, I want one of these too” he says happily “What you going to get for you?”

“I think the same bread but a ‘Lucky Cat’ cake, it looks like a cat sitting and is made of chocolate which is love” you show him the picture

“It's really cute, just like you” he says smiling to you, and you get a bit flushed

“Let's order then” you say smiling and waving at the closest waiter to you two

You two order and chat while waiting for the food, he says about his experience in the army and you talk about your job, the time flies as more you know about each other.

When the food arrives you get excited because the food is even prettier in real life, with every detail carefully put in place

“They are so pretty, you mind if I take a picture?” You say happily to James, or Bucky as he likes to be called “I won't show your face or anything just the food, don't worry”

“Sure, feel free to take the pictures” he says smiling to you

You take pictures of the beautiful food and one that has Bucky's arm and hand, you won't share that photo anywhere, you just wanted to have something to remember him and the best date you've ever had.

“Finished, hope they are good as they look” you said putting your phone down

“They're really cute, is a shame that we will ruined while we eat” he says grabbing the fork and looking confused at his bread “Also I have no clue how to cut this” he says laughing his nervosism out

“I think you can try like this” you show him were the kitten beans, that are the deli meats in a way that he can taste both the bread and the filling “But you can eat as you like”

“Your way is probably the best to taste all it deliciousness” he say putting the fork on the mouth and eating “It's really good, try for yourself doll” You get flushed by the nickname

You do just like him and ate a piece of yours, and it's one of the most delicious things you ever eaten

“It's really really good” You say smiling to him

“I like here, but with you the experience is ten times better, I really liked your smile” he says also smiling to you and you get a bit more flushed

“Thank you, you also have a beautiful smile” you haven't met any guy like him before, someone that makes so much complements or was as sweet as he is “You're gonna get me spoiled treating me like a princess”

“My ma’ taught me to treat every woman well, especially when I'm liking her” he says smiling and giving you a wink, you try very hard to think who stupid loses him and also you thank that you can be with him, he is like prince charming.

“Thank her later, I'm loving being treat like a lady, especially by you” i say smiling at him “Fells like you got out of a romantic movie”

“You lucky that I'm very real” he says getting one of his hand to touch mine and tangle our fingers together

“If you allow me to ask, how are you single? You are like the perfect example of boyfriend material and any lady who loses you is an idiot”

“Well, let's say being in the business that I'm in and having to be long times far from home makes hard to find someone who is willing to make it work, and generally pushes people away" he said sipping his coffee

"I get that, but if you're here it means that you're good at what you do so I shouldn't worry that much right?" You say after sipping your hot cocoa

"You're seeing me in a good moment, there was far worse, I think I'm on lucky wave" he says smiling and finishing his plate

"That's good, you should enjoy it, relax a bit" I said putting my cup on the side and keep eating my plate

"I will, hopefully with you" he said smiling "And you? Why such a petty lady is doing single?" He said hiding his face with the mug to not show that he got a bit shy

"Well, nowadays people are more in just sex and no connection, I liked but I want to have someone waiting for me at home, talk about my day and theirs" you said pushing you cake closer to you "Being someone that want a relationship nowadays scares people" you say shrugging

"I'm not scared, I also do want something solid, I've already had my fair share of instability, with job problems, some close people getting in and out of my life, is... was tuff years" you can feel the sadness in his voice as he gets his desert close to him "Looks like we are in similar situations" he tries to hides his sadness thru a smile

"Different details but yeah, same situation" I smile to comfort him "No more sadness, let's get something sweet to makes this moment sweeter" he laughs at your joke, you think his laugh is very cute

"With you doll this moment already is very sweet, the dessert is just a bonus" he winks at you again and say the nickname that he don't know but makes you the happiest woman in the world, you smile back at him

"Agread, this is the best date I've ever had by far, and with a man that I thought only exists in my dreams" you smile and cut a piece of your cake with your fork and put in your mouth so you don't shame yourself

You appreciate the sweet chocolate taste, with the filling made of Belgium chocolate mousse and tiny chocolate granny imitating the cat fur, you smile even more from that divine taste. Bucky does the same with his dessert and enjoying it

"I think I'm gonna become a regular here, hope with you by my side to make everything sweater" he smiles and you choke with a piece of cake, is he trying to steal your heart? Cause he is doing a amazing job at it

"That would be amazing" you say after finally eating that cake piece and smiling at him

"There's a reason you want to come in here? You have or had a cat?" He asks while eating more

"Had a fill during my life, but at the moment I don't, not sure if I want one so people may starting to call me the crazy cat and books lady" he laughs at my joke, that has a bit of truth, but you don't want to think about that now

"I was thinking to get one myself, my doc says will be good to me and make me feel less lonely"

"It's a good idea, but think a lot about it, is a big responsibility to take care of another life, mostly those who depends a lot on us, it can be tiring and exhaustive, but to me is worth it" you smile remembering of your last cats, they show love in different ways but still is love

"I think i need more of that, my house feels much lonely sometimes, having someone waiting for me there would be good" he says eating another piece

"So much, having someone that loves us at home makes it fells way more like a home, maybe you find one in here" you say smiling

"Maybe I can even find two" he says smiling, I really hope he can find a cat, but why did he said two? "I'm liking here, but mostly you" he smiles at me

"Me too" I smiled at him and blushing a bit "Did you finish eating? Want to see the cats?"

"Sure, I would love to play with the cats, and your company makes will make it even better" you smile at him and get a bit more red

After you two finish eating your desserts the two of you go to the part that has the cats, finding a spot with not many people and sit and wait for a cat to approach.

Don't take much time and a white cat goes in Bucky direction, she smells him, goes around him and lay on his lap

"I think she likes you" you say while petting the cat

"You think so?" He asks shyly, and not knowing how to accept her love "You think she will let me pet her?"

"Probably, she is letting me pet her and laying on your lap" you say smiling at him "Let me help you, do like me, cats don't like much belly rubs and will let you know where they want" you say petting her chin

Bucky starts slow with fear, but she starts to purr, loving his touch and moving all over his lap, then finally stopping with her belly up

"See, she likes you" I say petting another cat that got close to me

"I don't think any other animal was that lovely with me, I fell that I already fell for her" he says while petting her head "Not just for her actually" he say looking at me with his cheeks a bit flushed

"I can say the same James" you smile back to him

"Call me Bucky doll, we got more intimal so you can call me that" he say getting your hand close to yours "But I hope we can be more than friends"

I hesitate for a second before getting closer to him, feeling the warm for his hand thru the leather gloves and some sparkles, something that I haven't felt in a long time, I just give in to desire and lean in to kiss him, a romantic and passionate kiss, he caress my face with one of his hands, until you feel cat nails on my hand

"Ouch" you say getting out of the kiss to see that you have a scratch on your hand "Hey I know him first don't be jealous" you say to the cat that doesn't even bother to look at you

"Did she hurt you?" Bucky says worried

"It's just a scratch, I'm fine" you say smiling "But I won't complain if you kiss to make it better"

He takes your hand and into his lips and presses a gentle kiss on your injury, and he keeps kissing until he reaches for your mouth again, but gets interrupted by a woman approaching you two.

"Excuse me" she say lowering to you level "My name is June and I'm one of the caretakers of the cats, I saw that Alfine really liked you two, she is more shy and doesn't interact much with the visitors, and i want to say that all of the cats in here are up for adoption" she says smiling "Also we don't allow this type of physical contact in here, but I'm happy for you guys" she say standing up and leaving us in silence

"I think I will adopt Alfine" Bucky says breaking the silence "You would help me to get everything for her?" He says looking at me

"I would love but maybe the process can be a little long and definitely with a lot of bureaucracy" I say holding his hand with mine "But we can get a part ready before she comes home"

You both smile at each other and go to the place where June is, she explains how everything is going to work and gives Bucky the papers to adopt Alfine.

To my surprise it takes less than an hour to adopt her, after the two of us go get the basic stuff for her in the closest pet shop to grab all of the essentials for her to live with him.

I’m with him companing him during all of the process, even helping to choose the color of her leach and some basic toys for her.

"I think her bed will be good next to yours, mine love to sleep with me but she can be different, beside you create a bigger bound even more with her" I say while putting the shopping bag on the couch

"I know but... she looks likes the jealous type, and I want another cat in my bed" he say smirking

"If you ask nice she may agree" I say smiling and getting closer to him

You two start to chat more while getting everything ready for her confort, Alfine stays with both of you on the couch, demanding some attention from time to time but knowing when she needs to let you two alone.

When both of you sit on the couch and get a bit closer one thing leads to another and now he got his hands all over my body.

As he promised he wasn't a one night stand, even after we spend that night talking until both were craving more intimacy and decided that going into his room, which was the best idea, he doesn't want to be known as the naked neighbor, but I’m very sure after that all the neighbors know his name now.

A/N: Hope you enjoy it, pls tell me what you think

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Boy Bingo 2025 #marvel bingo #marvel bingo event

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whisperedmeg · 2 days ago

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soft animal part iv: synodic curve

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: under the stars, spencer lets her in. what follows is not a leap, but a quiet circling toward something steady.

a/n: this is my favorite part thus far 🥹. as always, I appreciate anyone who reads this little story of mine so, so much 🫶🏼. part 5 is mostly written already, so it’ll be up later this week, and in the meantime, I might post a one shot unrelated to this series if I can find the time to finish it

genre: fluff, smut, a bit of hurt/comfort I guess?

w/c: 5.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, talk of prison and intimacy issues, brief maeve mention, discussion of past relationship trauma, spencer being an adorable nerd, lots of astronomy talk, just two cuties on their first official date, glasses reid YUM, fingering, handjob, oral (both f/m receiving), 18+ MDNI

series masterlist

synodic (adj.) — describing the period between successive conjunctions of celestial bodies; the cycle of return, when two objects moving through space appear to realign.

—

Spencer’s door was already unlocked when I arrived, as if he’d been checking the hallway every five minutes. His hair was slightly damp from a recent shower, and he’d changed into a t-shirt I hadn’t seen before — navy with a faded print of Saturn and a little ring of stars around it. I couldn’t tell if it was old or just designed to look that way, but either way, it suited him.

“Hope you’re in the mood for popcorn and 1950s melodrama,” he said by way of greeting, holding up the DVD case like it was a peace offering. I grinned and set my things down, padding over to him and greeting him with a quick kiss.

The night started easy. Comfortable. A rhythm we’d already half-settled into. He let me rummage through his kitchen for the popcorn while he dug around for the remote, and soon the apartment was filled with the scent of butter as black-and-white images flickered across the screen. We sat on the couch with the bowl between us, our shoulders brushing, knees nudging.

Halfway through the movie — somewhere between a dramatic monologue and a string-heavy score — I turned to him, catching him already watching me instead of the screen.

“We should probably talk,” I said softly.

He didn’t flinch, just nodded once. “About yesterday.”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

We didn’t pause the movie. Just let it play in the background as we navigated the parts we hadn’t gotten to over the phone — the strange, lingering discomfort tied to my job, the way it felt like Millburn would always be a third presence in the room. He was honest about how he didn’t like thinking about that place, about the way it’s wired into him now like a faulty line in a circuit he can’t replace. I told him I understood — really understood — and that I never wanted to be one more thing he had to brace himself around. “But I don’t want to avoid it either,” I admitted. “Or you.”

“I know,” he said. “I know you being there probably made it survivable for me. But sometimes, it’s hard to hold that truth next to the version of you I’m still trying to believe I get to have outside of all that.”

That quieted me. I nodded and turned back to the movie, feeling his eyes still lingering on me.

The second half of the movie passed in fragments, but I don’t think either of us really followed it. His hand stayed on my knee most of the time, fingers idly tracing circles, the popcorn bucket long since moved to the coffee table so more of us could touch. When the credits rolled, we didn’t get up.

Eventually, I turned toward him, leaned in a little. He met me halfway.

The kiss started slow, familiar, but deepened fast — the kind of shift that felt like dropping into a current I hadn’t realized I was swimming alongside. His hands found my waist, then under the hem of my shirt, palms warm and steady. Mine were already tugging at the back of his neck, threading into his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him over me.

I felt him start to ease me down onto the couch, his body pressing into mine, and I didn’t stop him. His hips rolled against mine, his mouth on my neck. God, I didn’t want him to stop.

But then — he did.

Abruptly.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t bolt upright or say anything cutting. He just stilled, every muscle in him going tense beneath my hands. I opened my eyes and found him already up, running both hands through his hair as he stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, pacing once toward the window and back again. “I’m— I thought I could.”

I sat up slowly, pulling my shirt back into place. The air between us had gone from warm to thin, and I hated how much of that change I immediately blamed on myself. Like I’d misread something. Like I’d offered too much.

“It’s totally fine,” I said, and the words came out more insecure-sounding than I meant them to.

He paused, analyzing my expression. “No, it’s not,” he said, sitting back down beside me, but this time with a little space between us. “I want to. It’s not you. Not at all. I want you, I— God, I want you so much sometimes it scares me.”

That didn’t help as much as he probably thought it would.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth like the words might line up better if he kept pushing.

“It’s just… that place rewired everything. I used to know how to be in my body. How to feel desire without it twisting. But now…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away, jaw tight. “Now I get close to you like that, and something inside me just short-circuits.” He looked at me like he was half expecting me to up and leave.

My chest ached — not from rejection, not even really from disappointment, but from how much I suddenly wanted to stay.

Because there was something about the way he spoke to me that stripped everything bare — no performance, no pretense. Just this raw, unfiltered honesty that somehow made me feel steadier, not smaller. I felt the weight of what it meant to be trusted with the part of him that still didn’t feel safe in its own skin.

And maybe that’s what shifted — realizing that whatever this was, it wasn’t about chasing a moment. It was about showing up. Again and again, even when it was messy. Especially when it was messy.

So, I didn’t leave. I just reached over and took his hand. He looked down at our intertwined fingers, then back at me like he couldn’t believe I was still here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, knowing he needed to hear it. “And I’m not going to push you. I’m completely okay with us taking our time with the physical stuff, going as slow as we need. But… I can’t keep guessing where the line is.” I paused, sighing softly. “I’m not asking you to be okay right now. I’m not asking you to give me more than you can,” I added. “But if you pull back and shut me out… I’ll start wondering if I did something wrong. Or if I made you feel cornered or coerced. I just need a little clarity. I need to know it’s not always going to feel like I’m walking a tightrope.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said after a beat, voice low. “None of this is your fault. I think part of me thought that when I got out, I’d just… snap back into who I was before. That everything I shut down to survive in there would just flip back on like a switch.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “But it doesn’t work like that. So until I can get my body and mind to realign on that stuff, I’ll tell you when it’s too much. I don’t want you to be second-guessing yourself.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand. That was enough for me right now — just the promise that he’d try.

We didn’t talk much more after that. The rest of the night was quiet, just two people still learning how to navigate each other’s gravity. Eventually, he stood and reached a hand out to me without a word, guiding me into his bedroom like it was muscle memory now. He pulled out a fresh t-shirt from his drawer and handed it over without comment, just a small, almost sheepish smile. I took it, changed in the bathroom, and when I came back, he was already under the blanket, waiting.

He didn’t make a move toward me when I slipped in beside him, just let me come to him. I turned into his chest, and he curled his arm around my waist, breath warm against my forehead.

And even though the ache inside me didn’t leave entirely, it settled. Enough to let me sleep. Enough to stay.

—

The next week and a half blurred in that strange, elastic way time does when you’re learning someone new — stretching and snapping back, full of moments that didn’t feel like milestones until they’d already passed. I worked five shifts at Millburn and left sore and exhausted each time, but never alone. Spencer was waiting for me after every one — sometimes in person, sometimes just a text saying, Door’s open if you want it to be.

He kept busy, too. Chipping away at the mountain of paperwork it would take to get his badge back, fielding calls from the Bureau and his union rep, scheduling psych evals and meetings that sounded endless and exhausting. But he never made me feel like I was intruding on all that. Somehow, without either of us trying, we’d fallen into a rhythm.

We slept in the same bed almost every night now, though sleep wasn’t always the first thing on the agenda. There was more touching — more learning the boundaries, more of him reaching for me. His hands began to linger longer at my waist, his mouth began to pause just a beat more against my collarbone, sucking and licking and tasting. Some nights we talked until the room went dark around us. Others we barely said a word, content to just exist in the same quiet air, our legs tangled under the sheets.

Before I knew it and without even trying, I had memorized the way he made coffee and he had started keeping my brand of toothpaste in his bathroom drawer.

—

“I booked it,” he said one morning, voice soft but unmistakably pleased as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his flannel pajama pants and NASA tee. “The planetarium show. Thursday.”

I smiled, padding up to him and looping my arms around his waist. “Really?”

He grinned. “Seven o’clock. Stars and music. Pie afterward, if you’re still up for it.”

Something about the smile he gave me then made my heart pull in my chest — not the sharp kind, but the warm, stretching kind that always took a few extra seconds to settle.

Later that night, we lay facing each other, his fingers brushing absently over the inside of my wrist. He’d been quiet for a while, lost in thought, and when he finally spoke, it was with that same cadence he used when telling me facts I didn’t ask for but always wanted to hear.

“I haven’t dated much,” he said. “Not before the BAU, and only sporadically since I joined. Maeve was…different.”

I nodded gently, giving him space. I knew bits and pieces about Maeve already, little fragments of his past he’d laid bare inside the infirmary.

“She made me feel like I wasn’t too much. Even when I talked too fast or spiraled out with a thousand thoughts at once, she stayed on the phone with me. Answered every one of my letters. And then she was just…gone. And I couldn’t save her.”

His hand moved from my wrist to my jaw, brushing lightly as if grounding himself.

“Since then, I think some part of me has never fully let go of the idea that loving someone automatically means losing them. Or hurting them. Or both.”

My chest ached for him — not with pity, but with understanding. “I know that feeling,” I said. “I mean, not exactly. I can never relate to the pain you were in after what happened to her, but I know how it feels to conflate love with loss. My last relationship… It wasn't good for me. He constantly told me I was too much. Too emotional, too reactive, too needy. Everything about me was just a little too inconvenient.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, sharper now.

“I spent a long time trying to turn it off. Trying to be easier. Softer. Less. And when I couldn’t be what he wanted emotionally, I just…tried to be what he wanted physically.” I didn’t look away. “Sex became the only way I could feel close to him. Or useful.”

He exhaled, slow and low. “He sounds like an idiot.”

That made me laugh a little. “He was. But he was also just… human. And so was I. And I stayed too long. Started feeling like love always came at a cost, both to me and to them. But I’ve done a lot of work since then to be full again. To let go of that feeling, and to get back to myself.”

“You are,” Spencer said, fingers sliding carefully beneath the hem of my shirt. “You’re so full of life, I don’t know how I ever functioned before I met you.”

His kiss came gently, but it deepened quickly — hands finding each other, breath catching in the dark. For a while we didn’t speak, just moved together under the covers, slow and attentive. His mouth trailed along my throat like a map he wanted to memorize, and I let my hands explore the slope of his back, the curve of his waist, the sharp lines softened by sleep and stillness.

When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of my underwear, I held still — not in fear, but in awe of the quiet question he asked with just the brush of his fingertips. He traced the edge of me like he was waiting for my breath to steady, like he was listening for the yes in the way my hips tilted toward him.

When I gasped, soft, and involuntary, he didn’t freeze like he had in the times before. He stayed with me. Kept moving gently, slowly, two fingers slipping through slick heat as his eyes searched mine. Steady and careful. His pupils were blown wide, mouth parted like he’d forgotten to breathe, chest rising and falling as if trying to keep pace with something invisible between us. His thumb brushed over my clit deliberately, once, then again, and the sound I made curled his lips into the tiniest smile, like he was learning something sacred.

I was unraveling. I could feel it in every nerve ending, the coiled tension winding tighter, the heat in my belly flaring under his touch. He watched me fall apart with that same patient awe, like each flick of his fingers was another word in a language he was still studying but somehow already fluent in. He wasn’t just memorizing what made me shake — he was trying to understand why. Watching the way I arched, the way I bit my lip to keep quiet, the way I clung to his shoulder like I was trying not to drown. I tried to keep from being too much too fast, but it didn’t matter. He saw all of it.

And when I came, trembling around his hand, his eyes never left mine. He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard, and kissed me — my cheek, my temple, my brow, my lips. He looked at me as if witnessing me let go was as much a gift for him as it was for me.

When I rolled towards him after, still catching my breath, I reached for the hem of his shirt and felt him stiffen — not from discomfort, but something more fragile. Vulnerability, maybe. Or hesitation edged with want. I moved slowly, pressing a hand to his chest, and he let me, nodding.

My fingers drifted lower, across the trail of soft hair down his stomach, past the waistband of his boxers. He sucked in a breath, loud in the hush of the room, and buried his face in my neck when I wrapped my hand around him.

It wasn’t the way he groaned that undid me — it was the way he tried not to, like even now he was afraid to take up too much space in the room. I cupped his face with my free hand and whispered, “You can let go,” and he did — with a broken, quiet sound that made my chest tighten. He came with his forehead pressed to mine, whispering my name like it was the only tether he had to the present. Like he needed me more than air.

After, he collapsed into me, breath still ragged, hands trembling just slightly as they found my waist. I pressed my face into his neck and let my fingers trace over the long scar on his palm — the one I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask about yet. He let me touch it, didn’t flinch, and let out a breath that felt like surrender.

He changed into clean boxers and then came back to bed, wrapping me up in his arms with a kiss to my forehead. We stayed tangled up like that for a long time, neither of us talking, just sharing warmth, skin, silence. A kind of quiet I hadn’t known I needed until I had it. The kind that said, this is safe. This is yours.

And when we finally stilled beneath the covers, his arms tightened around me as he let his eyes close. It felt like he was holding onto more than just my body — we were carving out space for each other between fear and trust, between what he’d survived and what we were building now. And maybe he hadn’t remembered how to feel this kind of intimacy before — but here, in the hush of the dark, it felt like he was trying.

—

He picked me up at 6:30pm sharp on Thursday in a dusty old Volvo that looked like it had survived multiple timelines and maybe a few natural disasters. I loved it instantly.

I was locking my apartment door when I saw it idle at the curb through the window, a boxy relic with dull blue paint and mismatched hubcaps. Of course this was his car. Of course it smelled faintly like books and peppermint and had a crumpled copy of Scientific American wedged between the passenger seat and the center console.

“You ready?” he asked through the open window, smiling. I sucked in a sharp breath when I noticed he was wearing glasses I hadn’t seen him in before. God, did that man look good in glasses.

I nodded and climbed in. “This thing still runs?”

He scoffed, mock-offended. “Runs brilliantly. It’s a classic.”

“It’s a heap, Spence.” Spence. I’d never called him that before. It just slipped out, and it tasted good when it did.

“It’s a heap with soul,” he countered, pulling into traffic. He didn’t seem to acknowledge the nickname, but I noticed his cheeks blush a little bit. He settled his right palm against the warm skin of my thigh, filling the space above my knee but below the hem of my skirt.

The Smithsonian Planetarium was quiet by the time we got there — just a handful of couples and tourists milling around the lobby, murmuring over ticket stubs and constellation maps. Spencer whispered trivia in my ear while we waited for the doors to open, soft things like, “The light we’re seeing tonight left those stars before Shakespeare was born,” and “That one’s called the Winter Hexagon — six stars, all tied together.”

He was giddy in that understated, Spencer way — rambling facts under his breath and pushing his glasses up his nose with two fingers every time they slipped. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Once the doors opened and we settled in our seats inside, a comfortable silence fell between us. The lights dimmed so slowly I barely noticed it happening — first the dome above us went navy, then charcoal, then a black so deep it made me feel like I was floating. And then the stars came.

Thousands of them, blooming across the ceiling like a slow explosion — faint pinpricks at first, then constellations, galaxies, supernovas flaring to life as the narrator began to speak.

Soft music hummed in the background — a playlist full of Max Richter, Ólafur Arnalds, one movement of Spiegel im Spiegel sliding into a mournful cello piece that made the back of my eyes sting.

He leaned over, his breath warm against my ear. “That one,” he whispered, pointing up as a spiral galaxy rotated above us, “is Messier 51 — the Whirlpool Galaxy. It’s interacting with a smaller galaxy, which is slowly being absorbed. It’s been happening for millions of years.”

“So they’re crashing into each other?”

“Kind of. More like merging. It’s violent, but also… inevitable. They’ll become one galaxy eventually.”

“You’re making this sound romantic.”

He glanced at me, his crooked smile just barely visible in the dark. “A little destruction is romantic, sometimes.”

I swallowed hard and looked back up at the dome. The narrator was talking about stardust now — about how every element in our bodies was forged in the cores of long-dead stars, scattered by ancient explosions. “The calcium in your teeth,” she said, “the iron in your blood — all of it began in the heart of a dying star.”

“That always gets me,” Spencer whispered. “Stardust. It sounds cheesy, but it’s real. Every single atom in your body came from something ancient and violent.”

“Explains a lot about me,” I murmured.

He laughed softly. “You’re made of much better star stuff than you give yourself credit for.”

The stars kept moving. We drifted past Orion, past the Pleiades. Spencer leaned close again. “You know the story behind Andromeda?”

I shook my head.

“She was chained to a rock as a sacrifice, because her mother bragged she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. So the gods demanded a punishment. But Perseus shows up, slays the sea monster, and saves her.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “And also… kind of hot.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Slaying a monster to save someone?”

“No,” I smirked. “The part where she’s chained to a rock,” I deadpanned, joking.

He choked on his own muted laughter and quickly looked around, half-convinced someone had overheard.

“I’m kidding,” I whispered, nudging his thigh with mine.

His hand found mine again in the dark, fingers interlacing gently but with that same thread of electricity running through it. Something sparking between us that no supernova could outshine.

Afterward, we walked slowly back to his car, and he didn’t let go. Not even when we passed a group of teenagers huddled around the fountain, or when I made a joke about him being the only man alive who would get teary-eyed over a projected simulation of Saturn’s rings.

“It’s the Cassini Division,” he said, feigning indignance. “It’s iconic.”

“Your brain is iconic,” I teased, bumping his shoulder.

He blushed down to his collar.

We ended up at the diner he’d mentioned in the infirmary — the one with chipped mugs and a neon clock on the wall, the kind of place that smelled like coffee creamer and buttered toast and hadn’t changed its menu since 1977. We each ordered pie: I got cherry; he got apple.

“You’ve got some whipped cream on your lip,” I giggled after a few bites.

He licked the wrong side.

“No, other side—” I leaned forward across the table and wiped it with my thumb. “You’re a disaster.”

“A disaster with excellent taste in desserts,” he corrected.

“Debatable.”

“Please. I did research. I picked this place based on data.”

“Oh my god, you ran an analysis on pie, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he said, completely serious. “And this one scored highest in texture, balance of sweetness, and mouthfeel.”

I cringed. “You just said mouthfeel in public. I hope you know I can never un-hear that.”

He laughed, full and genuine, and I thought to myself: god, I’m so screwed. Because somewhere between the stars and the whipped cream and the hand-holding in the dark, I realized I was falling. Not crashing. Not spiraling. Not in the violent way two galaxies merge. Just… falling. Falling for every part of him, every side he’d given me the privilege of seeing.

His palm found my thigh again on the drive home. Something about the energy in his car felt charged, and at one point, I caught him staring at me when he hadn’t realized the traffic light had turned green and a BMW behind us honked.

Once we got back to his apartment, the air shifted the second the door closed behind us. I’m not sure if his hands were on me first or the other way around, but however it happened, I was grateful.

We barely made it to the couch without stumbling into something. His hands found my hips and I pulled him in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him with a low, smoldering urgency I’d been sitting on since his lips brushed my ear in the planetarium. He responded just as hungrily — no hesitation, no nerves, just Spencer, warm and wanting, mouth on mine like he was starving for it. It felt like I could see his walls crumbling before my eyes.

I straddled him, settling into his lap on the couch like I belonged there, and he moaned low in his throat like he agreed. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down harder against him, and I could feel him already through his pants — hard, insistent, twitching under me every time I rolled my hips.

“Fuck—”

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, pausing my movements.

“No” he breathed. “God, no, I don’t want you to stop.”

We kissed deeper, rougher. I untucked his crisp buttoned shirt and let my hands slide up his skin underneath it, mapping his ribs, the slope of his chest. He gasped when I pinched his nipple playfully. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Apparently,” he chuckled.

His hands weren’t idle either — one sliding up my spine under my shirt and over my bra, the other gripping my ass with real purpose. I let him touch me like that — unselfconsciously, eagerly — because I wanted to be wanted like this. By him.

I rocked against him again, slower this time, and his head fell back against the cushions. “You’re going to kill me,” he said, eyes fluttering closed.

I kissed the side of his neck. “Not yet.”

He opened his eyes again, dazed but focused, as his fingers drifted under the lace covering my breasts. “Can I?” he whispered, already thumbing lightly at the fabric.

I nodded an immediate yes, and he tugged my shirt up over my head and then the bra down just enough to bare me to the room. He looked at me for a moment — really looked, like I was the most beautiful, bewildering thing he’d ever seen. I felt that look low in my belly and behind my ribs for hours after the fact.

His hands on my breasts were warm, gentle, reverent. Then his mouth followed.

He licked, kissed, sucked — slow and focused — like he was solving a riddle, unlocking pieces of a puzzle one by one. I was panting by the time he switched sides, tugging his hair, grinding down on him because I couldn’t help it.

When I reached between us and undid his belt, unzipping him, he didn’t stop me. Just let his head fall back again and hissed through his teeth when I palmed him through his briefs.

“You’re so hard,” I whispered. “Is this all from the stars, or me?”

He looked at me with a half-smile, eyes blown wide. “You.”

“Good answer,” I giggled.

I tugged at the waistband just enough to slip my hand inside. He was warm, heavy, and twitching under my palm as I started to stroke him properly. He bucked up against my palm, one hand clutching my hip now, the other digging into the couch cushion like he was trying desperately to hold onto something real.

When he slipped a hand down the front of my panties under my skirt, I gasped — not from surprise, but from how confident he was about it. It felt like he’d been imagining this for weeks. Practicing it in his mind, going over it in his head frame by frame.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, fingers sliding between my folds.

He lifted me off his lap and laid me down on the couch, settling between my thighs as he pressed soft kisses down my body. The second his tongue touched me over my panties, I arched. He locked his fingers around the waistband and pulled the fabric down, kissing my inner thighs as he did, and once they were off, he looked up at me. I tangled a hand in his hair and took a steadying breath, offering silent permission for him to continue.

His mouth met my center without hesitation, and he licked with the kind of precision I should’ve expected from him — methodical, slow strokes that built pressure, then faster ones that made my thighs tremble. His hands gripped my hips hard, keeping me right where he wanted me.

“Fuck, Spencer,” I whined, tugging on his hair, breath catching, thighs tightening around his shoulders.

He moaned into me like he liked the way I sounded, like he wanted me loud. It only made it better — vibration deep and indulgent as he worked me harder, faster, then slowed again just to tease me. The kind of rhythm that bordered on cruelty. By the third time he worked me up, I was writhing.

“I’m close,” I warned, voice tight.

“Come for me,” he murmured against me, voice ruined. “Please.”

He wrapped is lips around my clit and I came with a cry that I couldn’t stifle, hips jerking, thighs clamped tight around his face as he worked me through it — greedy and gentle, like he didn’t want to stop, like he was still starved for my taste. One of his hands left my hip to tangle his fingers with mine as if to say I’m here, I’ve got you.

I was still catching my breath when I pulled him up to kiss me. He hesitated for a second, maybe out of courtesy, but I didn’t care. I wanted to taste myself on his lips. I needed tangible evidence that I hadn’t just imagined that entire experience.

“You’re perfect,” I murmured against his mouth. I didn’t give him a chance to answer — just shoved his boxers down the rest of the way and dropped to my knees on the carpet in front of him.

I looked up at him, asking with my eyes if I could keep going, and he took a shaky breath, nodding. He made a strangled sound the second I wrapped my hand around him, and a louder one when my mouth followed. His hands immediately gathered my hair out of my face and held it against the back of my head.

“Oh, fuck, baby—”

Baby. He’d never used any nickname or pet name for me before, let alone something as intimate as baby. I hummed around him in response.

I took him in slow at first, then deeper — flattening my tongue, hollowing my cheeks, working my hand where my mouth couldn’t reach. He was already so hard, leaking, twitching against my tongue. I moaned around him just to feel him pulse in response, and continued my ministrations with enthusiasm.

“You’re gonna make me—” One of his hands left my hair and hit the back of the couch, grasping blindly. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Good,” I whispered, pulling off just enough to meet his eyes, stroking him with my fingers. “I want to feel you.”

He grabbed my hair again, not rough — just holding on like he needed something to ground him — and I took him back into my mouth, fast and focused. I let his cock hit the back of my throat, eliciting a soft gag, and he groaned, deep and rumbly.

He came with a shudder and a broken gasp of my name, hips stuttering, fingers tightening in my hair as he spilled down my throat. I didn’t release him until he was gasping for breath, the sharp edge of his orgasm dissolving into something loose and messy and soft.

When I crawled back up to sit beside him, we didn’t talk right away. He pulled me close, kissed the side of my face, my shoulder, my temple. Eventually, I tucked my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat slow.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, still dazed.

I smiled into his skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His hand slid slowly up my spine, fingertips trailing along my neck like he never wanted to stop touching me.

We just stayed like that for a while — tangled, flushed, quiet — the air thick with everything we weren’t saying, and everything we already knew:

That this was becoming something. That the flirtation that started in the prison infirmary wasn’t just flirtation. That we fit together, both in the way my body curled into his and in the way our lives had started to intersect and weave into one.

He looked at me like I was already his, and it scared the hell out of me — not because I didn’t want to be, but because I really, really did. I just hadn’t actually voiced that desire yet, and neither had he. It felt too big, too important, too fragile. He was still trying to re-enter society without breaking, and I was still finding my footing beside him.

Eventually, we made it to his bed, and he helped me dress in yet another one of his soft, worn t-shirts. We brushed our teeth side by side, and when he pulled me into him under the covers, I could’ve sworn my heart literally skipped a beat.

I was halfway asleep when I felt his lips brush my shoulder.

“I’m really glad you came with me tonight,” he said softly.

I turned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I’m really glad you asked. Best first date I’ve ever had,” I murmured back. His hand found mine beneath the blanket.

And as we drifted off together, the stars we’d watched earlier — the ones that had burned for centuries before humans ever noticed them — somehow felt a little less far away.

ᝰ.ᐟ

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cloverrwritess · 2 days ago

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hiiii!!! I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Agnew x fem!reader fic (or gender neutral) where it’s kinda a he fell first and he fell harder scenario? Like maybe he’s had a thing for reader for so long and reader is just so oblivious. Like he stares and always wants to sit next to her while shooting and always looks over at her after he cracks a joke even when not on camera to make her laugh? And maybe one scene is where they are filming tntl and he goes extra hard on a bit for her to make her burst out laughing? And in the end they end up together ofc after fans and other smosh coworkers both clearly see the longing and help them get together? Thanks!!! (Sorry if that was a lot lol)

Title: Another Office Couple

Spencer Agnew x Fem! Reader

Request: Yes | No

note: hello! thank you so much for this ask! he is such a sweetheart and makes the most funniest jokes. we need more spencer fanfics fr

warnings: one dirty joke for tntl, swearing

________

It was another day of filming for the Smosh Games Channel, Spencer was scheduled to be part of another Gentlemen game. He was sipping on some Mountain Dew Kickstart when he heard multiple laughs to his left and turned to look.

He found her with Angela laughing together, he would thank whatever he did in his old life for being in the same job as her. He sees that she was already in her gentlemen's outfit before sitting right next to him. He felt his face heat him—not expecting her to sit beside him; he was used to her being in front of him.

He kept taking little glances at them till she noticed and smiled at him. “Hi Spencer, how was your lunch? I know you were too busy to buy and pick your lunch so I was the one that picked it for you, hope it was good”

His mind started to spin after knowing she was the one that picked his lunch for him. “Yeah, yeah It was great actually. The best food I’ve had in a while” Spencer felt himself start to jumble his words for how flustered he was. She raised her left eyebrow before smiling again and continued talking to him.

“I’ll be right back okay? I need to ask Alex something” He stood up before running towards Alex.

________

She followed him with her eyes and turned to look at Angela again. She saw how Angela was already looking at her with a certain facial expression. “What's that look for?”

“Really? "Oh the food was sooo good, It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a while, AND you still can’t even see what I’ve been telling you?” Angela was whispering but it didn’t even sound like it from how frustrated she said it.

“What? He’s busy editing videos, he probably haven’t eaten right on time”

Angela rolled her eyes at what the girl in front of her said and slammed her hand on the table “I swear to god I’m going to smack you—”

“Woahhh I left for a few seconds and now you guys are killing each other”

________

Once the cast was all seated, they started filming and making improv bits and jokes for the video.

“I have dinner with my second husband later so we have to make this quick” I put my smoking pipe on my lips and looked at the others. Shayne was already losing his mind and couldn’t stop laughing.

“Hmm yes the council did put up an announcement you were looking for a third husband? I’d like to apply for that” Spencer said, still focused on playing Mario Kart.

The others immediately started to look at each other, basically communicating with their eyes away from both Spencer and his crush.

“Oh god, not again”

________

“I sweat so much wearing that stupid tuxedo” She was muttering things to herself while fixing her hair looking at the mirror and was getting closer to look at her makeup to see any damage from laughing and touching her face during filming.

Spencer was staring at her while he was next to Alex. “Dude you look so fucking creepy in my perspective right now”

He immediately looked at Alex and made a disappointed face. “Can you not say that please? You make me sound like a creep”

“I mean you kinda are from how much you stare at her like a weirdo”

“Shut up” Spencer nudge Alex with his elbow, signaling him to stop making fun of him

“Everyone in the office knows you like her dude, we’re all making bets when you actually start making moves on her”

“Fuck off”

________

It was the next day where we were going to film a Try Not to Laugh. I was the first one to go first and had to make Shayne laugh, I did succeed while getting spit water combination on me because of him.

Finally it was my turn to sit down and patiently waited for anyone to make me laugh. Spencer came out of the divider and immediately kneeled in front of me.

He was wearing a black vest with fingerless gloves and a hat with a feather on it. He did a small bit before saying another line “I’m certified in Scuba, uh After Effects, and Cunnilingus”

That made me burst out into laughter and spit out the water from inside my mouth “Holy shit I wasn’t expecting you to say that while wearing that fucking outfit”

Spencer put his hands in the air as a winning pose for making me laugh. Others took turns before we ended the video.

“Did you like the Cunnilingus bit I did?” He rubbed the back of his neck while staring at her. “Are you kidding? That was so funny, I wasn’t expecting you to say that”

He felt flustered from her compliment.

While the two were busy talking to each other. Both Angela and Shayne were plotting on how to get Spencer to confess. They decided on the place where Winnie the dog always hides during Hide and Seek videos.

“I’ll get her and shove her there while you do the exact same thing for Spencer?” Angela whispered to Shayne, Courtney was next to him listening in. “Are you guys trapping both of them? Are you sure this will work?” They asked

“Yes 100%! We can finally rest from how much of a hopeless romantic he is for her, I’m so sick at this point”

It was finally lunch break when Spencer asked her to sit with him. Both were ready to sit down till they both felt hands on them and dragged into a room, they got shoved in together and heard the door lock. “Tell her or you’re not leaving, I am SICK seeing you guys being in love” Spencer guessed Angela was the one screaming.

“What do we do now?” He heard her say, confusion laced into her voice. He felt bad for her being dragged into this.

“Hey I’m sorry for dragging you in this situation, since we’re both stuck here and likely can’t get out unless I tell you something. I like you, and I mean like like you. I always make sure I sit next to you when we are scheduled in videos together, I always give you half of my Kickstar whenever you want a drink, and you know I never do that with anyone in the office” He bit his lips hoping he wouldn’t regret confessing his love to her.

She didn’t say anything until she took his hand and squeezed it three times, indicating she felt the same. “You know how shy I get talking about my feelings out loud but I like you too, I guess I’ve been overthinking how you don’t feel the same way as I do since we both work in the same company”

He leaned in “Can I kiss you right now? I really need to kiss you”

She nodded and there in the small space, they shared their first kiss.

They both got interrupted by a knock on the outside. “Hey are you guys done yet?? Lunch break is about to end in like 10 minutes” Angela screamed from outside.

They both sighed and she grabbed his arm before yelling for Angela to open the door.

“Thank God, Shayne was tired of gripping the handle so you guys can’t escape”

“Another office couple everyone!”

#smosh fanfiction #smosh x reader #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh fic #fanfiction

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 2 days ago

Text

+18 mdni! watch your mouth; a fic where bucky's your boss, and you're his secretary. he ends up getting himself into a lot of trouble with you.

cw: dom!m!reader, sub!bucky, blowjob, slightly rough, and mean reader, bucky confessing ab his most depraved thoughts, cumming all over bucky's face, use of 'slut'

word count: >2.7k

___________________________________________

today was the third day of training.

bucky was already aching when he saw your message pop up in his notifications.

mr. ‘schedules a lot’:

‘i want you here at 8. bring the plug.’

he was so excited, he ended up being 7 minutes early to your home. when he arrived, the door wasn’t locked. he stepped inside your house, and shut the door softly. it was quiet, and dim, there was only a single lamp in the corner of your home. he stripped his trousers off, put the plug in, and knelt on the carpet, as you always told him to.

a few minutes later,

you emerged from the hallway. the sleeves of your white linen button-up were rolled up, as you walked towards the living room.

bucky’s heart jumped.

“right on time.” you murmured, eyeing him. “you know what to do.‘

he circled once, turning around to show you the plug already in.

“good start.” you leaned down to cup his jaw. your thumb traced his lower lip, as he fought the urge to dart his tongue out to taste your finger. “you remember what i said we would do today?”

“yes, sir.”

“you’re going to confess, out loud, on your knees, one thought at a time.” you pulled away to sit on the couch, manspreading just to tease him more. “and i’ll decide how much you get to feel with each confession.”

he didn’t speak, just shivered.

“go on.”

“i.. i think about being under your desk while you work, ignoring me, using me to cockwarm you, using me like i’m just.. just a mouth.” his voice faltered at the end, and his cheeks flushed crimson as the shame hit him. he tried his best to hold eye contact with you, despite the shame.

bucky had pictured it too clearly: you towering over him in your office chair, sleeves rolled up. all your attention was on the spreadsheets, while he knelt beneath silently. there would be no eye contact, no attention, no acknowledgement, just the weight of your cock on his tongue.

“you don’t want affection, do you? just want to be used like a slut?”

buzz. the plug jolted inside him, sharp, and sudden. his hips jolted, and he gasped.

“you like being beneath me that much?”

“y-yes.” he nodded.

“say it again, louder.”

“i want you to use me, l-like i’m nothing but a toy.”

“good, keep going.”

“..think about crying.. while you hold me down, make me take it. it’s not from pain, it’s just.. just how much i want you.”

you moved, leaning forward towards him. you grabbed him by the jaw roughly, and he whimpered.

“want it.. so bad.” he whispered. “want you so bad.. it hurts.”

“you’re going to cry for me when i’m done disciplining you.”

there wasn’t a buzz this time, you just gave him a look that made him shiver.

“continue.”

“i.. i’ve dreamt about you.. about you tying me up, and leaving me there..” he murmured, breaking eye contact with you from the sheer embarrassment. “i wake up hard e-every time.”

“you want to be helpless?”

he nodded.

“you want to be mine?”

he nodded again.

buzz. it wasn’t sharp this time, instead a low hum through the plug that made his back arch, and his hands clench on his thighs. he whined, body rocking forward. his eyes rolled back slightly, as he tried to regain his composure.

“still with me?”

bucky nodded, barely, before continuing.

“sometimes.. i edge myself just by imagining your voice.. i don’t even have to touch.”

you didn’t answer, just letting the silence settle.

“tell me how many times.”

“w-what?”

“how many times have you came thinking about my voice?”

“n-none.. i’m only allowed to cum on your tongue, your hands, and cock.”

“good, you’re learning.”

buzz. this one was more cruel compared to the others, it was more drawn out, perfectly timed. his cock leaked, and drooled all over his stomach.

“you’re falling apart.”

bucky didn’t answer to that, only continued with his confessions.

“i-i want to.. fuck, i want to be so used i forget my own name. don’t have to think, don’t have to speak, j-just do as i’m told.”

“crawl to me.” you leaned back against the couch.

he scrambled to obey, crawling towards you immediately. he rested his chin against your knee, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

you gave him a nod, a signal.

he kissed your knee gently, all while maintaining eye contact with you.

“good,” you spoke. “that’s how you say ‘thank you’ from now on.”

bucky whimpered. his entire body throbbed, not just from the plug, but from the need to give up control.

“i.. i want to choke on it.” it came out hoarse, his voice cracking.

this caught you off guard, you hadn’t expected him to be down so horrendously bad for you.

“i want you to hold me there, not let me pull away. m-make me drool.. fuck, all over myself, and still not stop. just using my throat.” his cock twitched with each sinful confession that he made.

“fuck, say it again.”

he sat up straighter now, perfectly positioned in between your knees.

“i want to choke on it. i want to gag, and drool, and not be allowed to stop.”

you looked down at him for a long moment. then without a word, you unbuttoned your pants. you relished in the way his mouth immediately parted, as if he was welcoming you.

“no hands.”

bucky froze, before putting his arms behind his back. he didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. his eyes were locked onto yours.

you took your hardening cock out of your pants.

he had practically started drooling at the sight of your cock. while his eyes went glassy as he relished in the view, thoughts had started running in his head:

‘oh.’

‘oh my god.’

‘that’s what he’s been hiding? all this time?’

‘fuck, it’s big, heavy, thick.’

‘it’s not fair, he’s not touching me, and i’m already shaking.’

‘he knows what he’s doing.’

‘god, i’d beg for it. i am, but fuck-’

then, you cut his train of thought off with a tap of your cock on his lips.

that was all it took.

bucky shuddered at the mere sight of your cock. a whimper slipped past his lips, while his eyes fluttered half-lidded. it looked like his brain was melting right out of his skull. his mouth parted more, tongue flicking out automatically like a starved man.

“thought so. one tap of my cock on your lips, and you forget how to think.” you tapped your cock on his lips once more, and he whined. “you’re already gone, aren’t you?”

he moaned softly, his lips parted as he waited, as patiently as he could, for his prize, for his reward.

“words are gone, manners are gone. that ‘big boss’ brain of yours? useless now.” you spoke, before giving his lips another tap.

he was fucking drooling at this point, eyes rolling back slightly, as if he was drunk.

“good, i don’t want you to think, i want you to feel. i want you to take what i give you, and show me just how much you need it.” you held yourself just out of reach. “you wanted this, dreamed about it.”

bucky nodded furiously, breath shallow. he leaned in, tongue first, then lips, before finally taking you in his mouth. the moment he felt you against his tongue, he fucking moaned. he moaned as if he was a starved man finally being fed after weeks of starvation. he swallowed around your cock, his throat fluttering as he pushed you further down. he didn’t rush, he savoured.

“yeah, that’s it, look at you.” you kept a steady hand on the back of his head, guiding, not forcing him just yet. “breathe through your nose, i don’t want you suffocating on my cock now.” you said, even though you knew that he would probably be into it.

the longer you held him there, the more desperate he became, moaning desperately around your cock. when you finally pushed deeper, he fucking welcomed it as if it was second nature to him. he looked up at you as spit started to gather, and drip down the corners of his mouth. he didn’t care, all he wanted was to be wrecked.

you rocked your hips forward slightly, testing him. you didn’t force it, just let him settle into it, let him choose to take more. that was the whole point of your ‘training’, it wasn’t you feeding him your cock, it was you feeding him obedience, and he was devouring it.

“eyes up, i want to see you fall apart.”

he obeyed, and your breath caught, just for a second. there it was, that glassy, desperate stare of his.

“good, keep going. use your tongue, no teeth, you know better.” you watched the way your cock disappeared into his mouth, over, and over again. “all that smugness, all that teasing, now you’re reduced to just a toy? how pathetic.” you started to move, it was slow, controlled. it wasn’t about the rhythm, it was about control.

bucky moaned in response, throat flexing to accommodate your cock.

“i want you to remember this- fuck, this feeling.” you brushed the stray tear in the corner of his eye. “how full you are, how silent you go when your mouth is stuffed full of cock.”

he nodded, batting his eyelashes at you.

you began using him then, not brutally, but effectively.

his jaw was slack, while his hands trembled from restraint. he was gagging, choking, but he wanted more.

“you wanted this,” you pushed yourself deeper into his throat, and held him in place. “so take it.”

bucky’s vision blurred, as tears welled up in his eyes. he was absolutely gone now, jaw slack, lips red, and stretched, spit dribbling down the edges of his mouth. he choked around your cock like he was made for it, like it was the only thing he had ever wanted.

“you’re taking it so well, so desperate. you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?”

he moaned around you in response.

you pulled out slowly.

“tongue.”

he obeyed, sticking out his tongue as far out as he could for you.

you tapped your cock against bucky’s slick tongue, just enough for him to start getting needy.

“you’re so fucking easy, i hope you know that. look at you, absolutely ruined. i haven’t even given you what you want yet.”

he panted, his chest rising, and falling fast.

you forced yourself back inside his mouth, you were so close, and he knew it. he could feel the way your grip tightened at the back of his head, the way your hips stuttered.

“don’t move.” you pulled out of his mouth once more. then, you gripped yourself in one hand, and stroked slowly. “keep those eyes open.” you spoke, before you came, thick ropes of cum splattered across his face.

bucky shuddered, letting out a broken gasp as if he was the one cumming. he didn’t flinch, didn’t wipe it off, he knew better.

you didn’t speak right away, just looked at him, who stayed exactly where he was. you leaned forward, reaching for a clean cloth you had placed on the edge of the coffee table earlier. you brushed the damp fabric over his cheek, it was gentle, yet firm.

bucky’s breath hitched, the way your fingers lingered on his skin, the way you never broke eye contact. you didn’t need to praise him again, didn’t need to reward him.

you cleaned every drop slowly, deliberately. it wasn’t because it was hard to clean, but because you thought that he deserved to feel every second of it. when you were done, you pressed a kiss, lovingly, to his forehead.

that was the only permission he needed to finally relax.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #x male reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #bottom bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #top male reader #dom male reader #buckfics

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marauder-misprint · 3 days ago

Text

I don't mind

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

8.1k words

Inspired by Absolute Silence's "I Don't Mind" - which means reader isn't the best person. Deal with it.

cw: angst, fluff, pining, angst, Y/N, angst, reader doesn't deserve remus, reader makes poor decisions, remus is too forgiving for his own good, reader has on-and-off relationship with someone else

You could pinpoint the moment you started to become friends with Remus. Third year, first Wednesday of classes, second period. Professor Dassow assigned seats for his Arithmancy classes and he put you next to Remus. It wasn’t that you didn’t know or hadn’t spoken to Remus before then. No, that was just when you started to become friends.

You didn’t talk a lot at first, exchanging simple hellos when you arrived at class. Then he missed class a few weeks into the school year and he asked if he could copy your notes from the day he missed.

“Ignore the doodles,” you said, handing him the notes.

He smiled and got to work copying them down. He gave them back to you later in the day. He thanked you and you said he could borrow your notes any time. He made note of that and always went to you when he missed Arithmancy, which was more often than you had expected, and he sometimes asked for other classes’ notes as well.

“Your Arithmancy notes are amazing. I assumed the rest of your notes would be too. Better than James and Sirius, at least.”

From there, you started talking more both in and outside of class. Your growing friendship was strictly for Remus. You could sit and talk or do homework or whatever with him, but the moment James, Sirius or Peter showed up, you excused yourself. You didn’t know them all that well and you didn’t plan on changing that. You also knew that you weren’t the only person who was fine with being friends with Remus and not the others. Lily, for example.

Sometime in the spring of third year, it was James who asked you for notes. He said Remus asked him if he could grab him. Remus was apparently going to be out longer than he usually was.

“With his rubbish immune system, you know how it is,” James said with a shrug. “So can I get those from you?”

You sighed but handed the notes over. “Tell him I hope he feels better soon.”

“Will do.”

And then Remus was back in classes a few days later. He looked paler than usual, but that would be what getting extremely ill does to you. You didn’t think anything of it. He told you he was extremely grateful when he gave you your notes back.

“I did say any time, Lupin,” you said, giving him a smile. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Hate missing class.”

Over the summer, you didn’t write to each other. You didn’t expect anything from him. You weren’t that close of friends for you to think otherwise. When you got back in the fall, he gave you a smile and a wave, which you returned. And then when Professor Dassow didn’t assign seats in Arithmancy, Remus still sat next to you. He sat near you in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts well, but he shared his desk with James and Sirius, respectively.

One weekend, you ended up in a game of Truth or Dare in the Gryffindor Common Room. Disgustingly personal questions were being asked and you weren’t sure if you wanted to answer those, so when your turn came around, you picked dare. Sirius grinned mischievously before dishing out your task.

“I dare you to kiss Remus.”

“What?” Remus asked, voice sounding thin.

“Only if you don’t mind,” you said.

“Al-alright.”

Having been sitting on the floor, you crawled over to Remus and quickly pecked him on the lips. It was barely a brushing of lips that lasted less than a second, but it counted for the dare and for your first kiss. You had always imagined it would be something more romantic. At least the pressure of your first was out of the way. If you were being honest, you didn’t think much of it.

Later that night, Sirius clapped Remus on the shoulder up in their dorm.

“You’re welcome, mate.”

“What for?” Remus asked.

“Got you a kiss from your girl,” he answered with a smirk.

“She-she’s not my girl.”

“Not yet. Or have you changed your mind? No longer fancy her?”

“I, uh, erm. Don’t meddle. I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, falling onto his bed dramatically. “I’ll stop being the perfect wingman.”

While Sirius didn’t continue his direct attempts to help Remus catch your eye, he did try to at least get you to spend more time with Remus. He did so with the help of James and Peter. Their mission? Befriend you so you’d hang out with them, and therefore, also hang out with Remus.

Peter made the first move in befriending you. Sirius, James and Remus all ended up in detention while he got off scot-free. He walked up to where you were working on homework in the common room and sat down across from you. You looked up briefly before going back to work. He had his own homework with him. You assumed he was just going to also use the table.

“Y/N, can you help me with this Defense worksheet?” he asked once he had gotten set up.

“The one that’s due tomorrow?”

“That’s the one.”

“Right, well, I’m kind of busy? Arithmancy doesn’t exactly do itself.”

“Please? Remus says you’re brilliant. He’s in detention right now. Otherwise I’d be buggin’ him ‘bout it.”

“Potter or Black available?”

“Detention with him, I’m afraid.” He gave a faux-sniffle, like he was missing his friends. “It’s absolutely dreadful without them.”

You sighed. “You lot are dreadfully co-dependent. But what part is confusing you?”

By the time the other three got back from detention, you and Peter were laughing with his Divination dream journal in front of you. He was talking you through what some of his recent dreams apparently meant.

“I really don’t think ‘death by toastie’ is a thing, Peter. I think you’re safe,” you assured him through laughs.

“I could choke!”

“Chew thoroughly then!”

“And if someone makes me laugh while I’m swallowing?”

“Hope your friends know the heimlich.”

“Heard of it, don’t know how,” James said, walking up behind Peter and leaning on his chair. “Did you say ‘death by toastie’?”

“It’s what his dreams say apparently. So you best learn to ensure your quartette doesn’t become a trio.”

You smiled at Remus before packing up your stuff and leaving, barely giving the boys a brief good night. Peter remarked that you’re even more helpful than your notes were.

“Because she’s smart. I’ve told you this,” Remus said.

“Didn’t believe you,” Peter replied casually. “Now I do.”

“Because I’m so untrustworthy?”

“No, just think your brain’s a little screwy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Anyways… did you finish the Transfiguration assignment? I still need to do that,” James said.

Peter slid his finished assignment toward James. As James copied down the work you helped Peter with, James came to the same conclusion. You were smart.

And so, the three continued their mission to fully befriend you. It was a slow process. Getting you to linger around them without being one-on-one was a struggle. The closest they got was when you were working on an assignment for Arithmancy with Remus during lunch, and once you were finished working with him, you left the table.

But where the three struggled, Remus actually seemed to be making progress. Your conversations with him were becoming more frequent and you’d approach him if you heard something that you thought he’d find amusing. You didn’t seem to have any issue with asking him questions. You even hand delivered your notes to him in the Hospital Wing one evening after he wasn’t in class and you with him to go over them. The boys had a field day with that when Remus told them about it.

“There’s no way she’s not smitten with you. Come on, mate – all the signs are there!” Sirius said.

“I think you’re mistaking friendship for ‘signs.’ She’s just nice. You guys would go over the notes if I needed you to.”

“But you don’t need us to. She should know you don’t need her to. And yet,” James said, agreeing with Sirius that you had to like him.

“It’s the bloody Hospital Wing. No one likes being there more than they have to,” Sirius added.

Remus shook his head. “And she knows I miss a lot of class. She was probably just making sure I was up to speed.”

“You’re more up to speed than I am,” Peter said. “And I’m in class.”

“She’s just-”

“Smitten with you. Trust me,” Sirius said, but Remus just rolled his eyes.

“If she was, which she’s not, wouldn’t you think she’d try warming up to you more?”

That shut the boys up for the evening. They could’ve suggested that you were shy, but that didn’t fit you. You weren’t the loudest, but you held your place. They could’ve said that you didn’t like big groups of people and maybe four people was your limit, but they’ve seen you talk to groups of like ten people. Every excuse they could come up with was easily disputed. So they dropped the topic of you.

You wouldn’t say that you were smitten with Remus. He was cute, smart and nice. He was a good friend. And that’s all you were looking for at the moment. You let the friendship grow. You slowly found it in you to tolerate his friends more, mainly in brief stints. It actually hit a point where you knew when the other boys would be elsewhere so you could hang out with Remus alone.

One of such evenings, you were content to sit next to Remus on the couch in front of the common room’s fireplace. James was at quidditch practice, Sirius in detention and Peter at chess club. Remus was recounting his latest run-in with Peeves. It hadn’t gone well. Your laughter filled the common room and Remus swelled with pride that he was the one making you laugh. Ever so slowly, he inched his hand closer to yours. You didn’t notice, or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

You leaned your head on the couch at an angle so you could look at Remus. “I swear I only run into Peeves when I’m late for Potions. It’s always Potions.”

He moved his hand closer.

“I think he smells lateness.”

“And what does lateness smell like?” you laughed.

Closer.

“Not sure. I’m not Peeves. But I’ll ask next time I see him.”

Closer.

“Could you also ask him to not loiter near the Potions classroom? Slughorn hates lateness. I could get away with McGonagall or Dassow or Binns.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile and then with a burst of courage, he let his hand touch yours.

You didn’t pull away as he allows his hand to completely cover yours on the couch cushion. His heart was practically beating out of his chest; yours did a little flutter at the affectionate action.

“Come to think of it, as long as you don’t make a big show, you could probably walk into History halfway through class and Binns wouldn’t care.”

“He’s more concerned with history than the present,” Remus said.

“You’d think that’d make him a better professor.”

“But alas.”

You both burst out laughing. Peter was the first one to return from his evening activity. Remus saw him enter the common room, but he just smiled at Remus and went up to their dorm. You and Remus kept talking. When James and Sirius came back, they had similar reactions to Peter. Smiles and disappearing. It looked like Remus was getting the girl and who would they be to disturb that?

When you called it a night, Remus went to bed smiling. You, also smiling, found yourself considering if maybe you’d like Remus as more than a friend. You weren’t actively looking, but if it happened, you didn’t think you’d be against it. It felt nice for him to hold your hand. It felt nice to sit and talk and laugh with him. Everything about him was nice, even if you didn’t quite like his friends. Maybe you’d grow to like them.

You didn’t have to like them right away. Not for the rest of fourth year, at least. Remus held your hand a few more times after that night, but that’s all. He didn’t ask you to the last two Hogsmeade weekends. He didn’t ask you to go on a walk with him or to sit with him by the Black Lake. And then you both went home after finals.

You were still friends and more so than you’d been after third year. That summer, you did write to each other. They weren’t long letters, nor were they extremely frequent, nor were they love letters. Based on what you read, they were full of platonic feelings. It was the same feelings you got from Lily’s or Mary’s letters. That didn’t stop you from hiding those letters from your parents though; you weren’t sure what reaction they’d have if they found out you were writing to a boy and you didn’t want to find out.

When you arrived at King’s Cross in the fall, it was surprisingly easy to spot Remus through the crowd. He had grown at least a head taller. You said bye to your parents and started to make your way through the crowd toward the train, and coincidently, Remus.

“Hey, Lupin,” you said with an easy smile as you passed him and boarded the train.

Simple. Easy. Casual.

He boarded the train right after you, not wanting to lose sight of you. He may have gotten taller, but you got prettier. He watched you until you disappeared into a compartment with Lily, Mary and Marlene. He kept walking until he found the boys. He would’ve loved to have talked to you more, but he supposed there would be plenty of time for that back at Hogwarts.

“Moony’s smiling,” Sirius teased the moment Remus entered the compartment. “He’s seen Y/N.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, but that’s all he could say. Sirius was right after all.

“Why do you think he waited on the platform?” Peter laughed.

Remus blushed as Sirius and James joined in Peter’s laughter. But they were right. Completely right. Remus waited on the platform while the other three boarded the train. He wanted to catch a glimpse of you before the ride to school, and he did and it left him feeling unusually giddy. If it was simply because you said hi to him, he was in for a long year, or a really good year since you didn’t pull away your hand in the spring.

“Did you see Remus on the platform?” Mary asked you. “He’s a freaking giant now!”

“He’s a good few inches taller,” you said with a nod.

“And to think, I stopped growing during third year,” she sighed.

“You know he’s probably not done growing, right?” you asked.

She groaned. “It’s not fair!”

“It’s not but that’s life. Marls, you barely wrote this summer. What’d you get up to?” you asked, turning the conversation away from Remus.

The girls knew about the handholding and how you wouldn’t say no if Remus asked. You didn’t want to talk about it right now. There was simply nothing to say. The girls wouldn’t accept that and you decided that was a war for another time.

The year started off as ordinary as you expected. It was normal sitting next to Remus during Arithmancy and near him during other classes. It didn’t take long for you to be working on assignments together and to be sitting on the couch by the fire late into night together. The first few times, it wasn’t anything romantic. Just hanging out and relaxing. Then he held your hand again and you rested your head on his shoulder. That felt a little romantic. A little, but not much.

One thing you didn’t expect to happen was Remus asking you to come watch a few of James and Sirius’ quidditch practices with him. He told you he usually did homework and it would be nice to have someone else there besides Peter and a handful of girls who stalked James and Sirius’ every movement.

“Ah, just say you like my company,” you laughed before agreeing to go with him.

And then it wasn’t an odd sight to see you pressed into Remus’ side during the matches, whether Gryffindor was playing or not. It was an increasingly common sight, you and him together. But you assured the girls that it wasn’t anything real yet, just two friends hanging out.

Two friends. Platonic. You kept repeating that in your head as he held your hand and you used his shoulder as a pillow. Friends can hold hands. Friends can lean on each other. Friends get squished into each other’s sides when the stands are packed.

There were times, however, when the line between friends and something more blurred. You and Remus were in the library, sharing the same book for your Arithmancy essays. Your chairs were mere centimeters apart, allowing your arms to bump every once in a while. You weren’t doing it on purpose, but you also weren’t actively avoiding it. You liked how Remus turned slightly red when it happened and you looked at him with a small smile. He looked cute.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Your essay was nearly finished and your arms bumped yet again. You looked at him and he blushed and you leaned in. Similar to that truth or dare game last year, it was a brief kiss. It lasted slightly longer and was barely more than a brushing of lips. When you pulled away, Remus was even more red. You just smiled and turned back to your essay. He stared at you for a few more seconds before following suit.

“I kissed him,” you said as soon as the door to your dorm closed behind you.

“Remus?” Lily asked, looking up from her desk.

“Who else?” Mary answered for you, but you still nodded.

“Wait, you kissed him or he kissed you?” Marlene asked.

“I kissed him.”

“What’s it matter?” Mary asked.

“It means she’s initiated twice,” Marlene explained. “And as far as we’re aware, he has yet to.”

“He initiated hand holding,” Lily said.

“Not the same,” Marlene said with a shake of her head.

“Why did you kiss him?” Mary asked.

You shrugged. “We kept bumping arms and he blushed every time I looked at him. Was kinda cute.” You looked to Marlene. “Where do you think this leaves me ‘n’ him?”

“Where you were before, I’d say. A little too friendly for friends, but one kiss in the library does not make you his girlfriend.”

“Right. Okay.”

So, essentially, you were still friends. You wondered if Remus wanted more. The blushing had to mean something, you thought. You didn’t blush around boys you didn’t fancy; although you’d rather punch some of those boys.

Remus was all smiles when he returned to his dorm.

“Did you make love to your essay, Moony?” Sirius asked as Remus placed his school bag on his desk.

He rolled his eyes. “Got it off several times.”

“Sure it was the essay you got off and not, perhaps, Y/N?” Peter asked with a smirk.

James and Sirius jeered when Remus turned pink. He stopped looking at them. They just laughed more.

“Well, mate? Tell us what happened,” Sirius said.

“She kissed me.”

Sirius cheered. “Love a girl with balls!”

“And in Moony’s favor, there was no dare this time,” James added.

That was it for a month. The occasional hand holding and head resting, but that was it. You didn’t talk about the kiss, nor did another one happen. Classes came and went. Assignments started and finished. You figured you spent about equal time with your friends and Remus.

Once again, you were pressed against Remus’ side during a quidditch match. Gryffindor was flying circles around Hufflepuff. The match was moving by quickly. Cheers from Gryffindor’s fans were obnoxiously loud and their volume only increased with each goal they scored. After Gryffindor’s seeker caught the snitch, you were ushered onto the pitch with everyone around you, and then back to the common room. No time was wasted in getting a celebration party set up.

You and Remus were sitting next together, as to be expected. Everyone around you had butterbeer in their hands or something stronger. The energy in the room was pulsing. You could feel the beat of the music in your bones; some seventh year had gone overboard with their amplifying charm.

When your favorite song started to play, you placed a firm hand on his arm.

“I love this song. Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t move right away when you stood up, but you smiled at him and then he was up, letting you drag him over to where other people were dancing. Remus didn’t think of himself as a dancer. He was too unsure of his extremities and how they moved, but with you in front of him, it was slightly easier to let his body be loose. His awkward dancing made you smile. One wave of confidence surged through him and he took your hand to spin you. Your laughter filled his ears as you turned round and round. His smile matched yours. He loved hearing your laugh sound so genuine and pure; even better was that he had been the cause.

Remus danced with you for one more song before bailing. At that point, however, Marlene had joined you and you didn’t have to dance alone. From where he sat, Remus watched you dance for the rest of the evening as he sipped on his butterbeer.

“Didn’t think you were the dancing type,” James said with a smirk, leaning toward him.

“Only when she’s asking.”

James laughed. He knew how true that was. It was only reinforced by Remus not dancing for the rest of the night.

---

Marcus Dumond stopped you after Transfiguration. You weren’t close, but you were friends. More of friends of friends if anything, but him stopping you didn’t throw you off all that much.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, adjusting his bag strap on his shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Would you be able to help me finish the essay? I’ve reread the chapter like six times and I’m getting nowhere.”

“I’m no tutor but I can try.”

“Sweet. Library around seven?”

You nodded and smiled at him. He walked away and you thought nothing of it. You didn’t think the essay was all that difficult so maybe you would be able to actually help him. After dinner, he was waiting for you in the library. You saw Remus as you made your way towards Marcus, so you waved at him. His face lit up with a smile, but it quickly dimmed when you kept walking past him and sat down next to Marcus.

You immediately got to work, discussing the theory that McGonagall had assigned the essay on. If you were being honest, it didn’t seem like Marcus was really struggling with it. He talked about it as if he had a firm grip on the subject, and his questions only furthered that assumption, picking apart small details that were probably more on par with N.E.W.T. levels than O.W.L.

As the evening went on, your chairs got closer until your shoulders were touching. Marcus looked at you with kind eyes every time you spoke. He listened to every answer you gave him. You continued to talk about Transfiguration long after he finished the essay. Eventually the conversation shifted to you and him, your personal lives, friends and such. He was incredibly interested in your answers, leaning closer as you talked. When you realized how late it had gotten, he insisted on walking you back to Gryffindor Tower.

“We should study together more often,” he said as you stood a few steps away from the Fat Lady.

You shifted your weight and tucked some hair behind your ear. “You think we were productive?”

“More than.”

“Then I think we can arrange for that.”

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You watched Marcus walk away and disappear around the corner before giving the Fat Lady the password. Your face felt warm. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself as you went to your dorm and put your stuff away. It was a forward move by Marcus, but you didn’t mind. The girls thought your smile was because something more happened with Remus. Boy, were they wrong.

It didn’t take long for them to catch on that something other than Remus was going on in your life. Marcus followed up on studying with you more often. He made a point to walk with you to classes you shared and he offered to carry your bag. He started making his presence by your side something to be expected. He became more consistently in your atmosphere than Remus was. Marcus asked you out and started to take you on dates.

You were happy. It was that easy. School was going good, there was no drama within your friend group, and Marcus treated you well. The rest of fall went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were back in school for the spring term. Things were still good.

For a while.

“Don’t be stupid. We’ve covered this hundreds of times. You know this,” he said one evening as you studied together.

“We’ve never covered this! I know we haven’t,” you insisted. “And don’t call me stupid.”

“I’ll call you stupid if you’re being stupid. We covered this two days ago!”

“I wasn’t studying with you two days ago. Who were you studying with?”

“You!”

“No, you most certainly weren’t. Who were you studying with?”

“I swear it was you.”

“Marcus, tell me the truth!”

“You’re being ridiculous! I am telling you the truth.”

“You aren’t. And you’re calling me ridiculous and stupid… Marcus, be honest.”

“I am!”

You frustratedly shoved your things into your bag and stood up from the table. “You can find me when your memory comes back and you feel like telling the truth.”

Then you left in a huff. Marcus didn’t chase after you. He just watched you go with a deep frown on his face. It wasn’t until you were long gone that he realized he had been studying with one of his friends. You were going through a plethora of emotions as you stormed back to Gryffindor Tower. You were too deep in your thoughts to feel the tears streaming down your face.

A gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you from going to your dorm.

“Y/N, you alright?” Remus asked in a soft voice.

You sniffled loudly. You rubbed at your eyes before looking at Remus, but he saw the hurt in your eyes. He pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“I got you… Come on,” he whispered and started to move you in the direction of the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.

You let him guide you up the stairs into his empty dorm. You let him sit you down on his bed. He made you a cup of tea and just sat with you. He didn’t ask you any questions about what had happened. He knew that you were dating Marcus and he probably missed his chance with you, but seeing you sad made his heart clench and if he could help fix it, he would. Like always, Remus’ presence next to you felt welcomed. He was warm and kind and what you needed in the moment. After you finished your cup of tea, Remus held you again and you buried your head in his chest. He rubbed your back.

“You’re going to be alright,” he mumbled into the top of your head. “Whatever happened, you’ll be alright.”

You sniffled and nodded. You couldn’t deny that you had distanced yourself from Remus since getting together with Marcus. Being next to him again was nice. And he just held you and comforted you until you appeared to be a little better. He didn’t force any conversation out of you.

“Thank you, Remus,” you said once you felt okay enough to go back to your dorm.

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before disappearing out of his dorm’s door. He watched you leave and then stayed in the same position until the other three boys came back into the dorm.

“Someone put a full-body bind on Moony before we left?” James asked, poking his shoulder.

Remus didn’t move or respond, just staring ahead.

“Oh! He blinked, that’s a no,” Peter said. “So what’s got you frozen?”

“Y/N,” Remus breathed.

The three boys’ heads snapped toward Remus. You hadn’t been around for a while, since before Christmas.

“Care to explain?” James asked.

“She…” Remus cleared his throat. “Was here. She was crying.”

The boys didn’t say anything. They didn’t know what to say. Frankly, they didn’t think that you crying was enough to have this effect on Remus.

“She kissed me.”

Sirius sputtered out some kind of noise. “She did what?”

“On the cheek.”

“Isn’t she still with that Ravenclaw bloke?” James asked.

Remus shrugged. You had been crying. Maybe you had just broken up with him. He hadn’t asked why you were crying and you didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood.

“Huh…”

You spent maybe a day away from Marcus before he found the courage to admit that he was wrong. It was like nothing had happened. Remus was kept at arms’ length and you were at Marcus’ side. James, Peter and Sirius tried to keep a close eye on Remus to make sure that he was okay. He didn’t give them much to go off of. He knew it was stupid to get his hopes up ever so slightly from the cheek kiss, but that didn’t stop them from rising.

It’s good again for a time. Marcus was somehow treating you better than before. And again, you were happy. But something about Remus kept drawing your eye. You think it was something about that night you fought with Marcus. Remus didn’t think about helping you calm down. He just did.

But you’re with Marcus and being with him was good. He made moves on you; Remus never did, not romantically.

You were more than content with your relationship with Marcus. Then you got into a fight. You weren’t sure what set it off, but what started off as a picnic by the Black Lake ended up as a screaming match and you threw your cup of pumpkin juice into the lake. You stormed away. You didn’t let yourself cry, but you knew your emotions were evident on your face.

You didn’t make it back to Gryffindor Tower before Remus found you. Part of you wondered if he somehow heard you yelling at Marcus. If he had, he played it off. He physically ran into you as you rounded a corner. His hands grabbed your waist to steady you so neither of you fell and when he saw your face, he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m here,” he said softly.

And you let him guide you into the nearest classroom. You sat on the floor next to him, resting your head on his shoulder like you used to do on the couch. He didn’t reach for your hand. He sat with you in silence for a minute before speaking up.

“It’s okay to cry.”

“I shouldn’t need to.”

“Everyone needs to cry from time to time.”

“And when was the last time you cried?” Your voice cracked as you asked that. The image of him crying wasn’t something you wanted to linger on.

“Two weeks ago,” he said without sparing a second to think.

He knew exactly when he cried last. The full moon had been that evening and he caught a glimpse of you making out with Marcus in the Transfiguration Courtyard. He was tired, stiff, achey, already feeling every effect the moon had on him and that sight sent him over the edge. He had retreated to his dorm and didn’t move from his bed until it was time for his transformation.

Silence filled the room again. You didn’t cry. You didn’t feel the need to. Being next to Remus helped quell any urge you had to cry. You didn’t understand how he calmed you so easily. You could hear his heartbeat and you had to fight the urge to fully latch onto his arm and nestle yourself into him. Sitting next to him would have to suffice.

You sighed, “I don’t need to cry.”

“Alright.”

You stood up and Remus took a second but mimicked you. Before you could leave the classroom, he pulled you into another hug and kissed your forehead. His lips lingered on your skin longer than he knew he should have let them. Even under the guise of comforting you, it was clearly more than a platonic kiss from him.

“I’m here whenever you need,” he whispered.

“Thank you.”

Then you walked away like nothing happened. Like you didn’t fight with Marcus and didn’t find comfort in Remus. The next day supported as much; you were at Marcus’ side like you had been the day before and the day before that. That was your last fight with Marcus for the spring and the last time you spoke to Remus one-on-one. Finals came and went and then everyone went home.

Remus wrote to you once at the beginning of summer with the intent of checking in on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to open his letter. You pretended that you never got it. You wrote back and forth to Marcus and went to visit him a few times. You successfully planned to get your school supplies from Diagon Alley together in August and your parents liked him when you introduced them.

For the first time since third year, you didn’t sit next to Remus during the first day of Arithmancy. You didn’t gravitate toward him and the Marauders during your classes with them. Your excuse was that they could be distracting with how much they talked during class. It wasn’t the strongest of excuses, but it wasn’t necessarily weak.

You really thought you’d be starting the school year off strong. Academically, you were. With Marcus, not so much. You were fighting more and more. You knew it showed on your face and it affected how you slept. You weren’t sure what you were doing wrong with him, but he was constantly nitpicking everything you did.

A particularly nasty fight had your crying in the common room late into the night. It felt like you ended things with Marcus. Remus came down from his dorm and saw you. You were his weak point. Within a few seconds, he was sitting next to you and pulling you into his side. You didn’t fight him. He was a comfort to you. He didn’t ask questions you didn’t want to, or know how to, answer.

After that fight, you didn’t talk to Marcus for a few days, but you went back to him, patching things up. He apologized to you, albeit a half-hearted one. Remus was sent back to watching from the sidelines as you went back to Marcus every time he made you cry. It was becoming more frequent. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be up in the common room, staring into the fire with a blank expression, when he got back from Prefect rounds. You never turned him away if he asked if you wanted company.

What Remus wasn’t really expecting was you coming to him. You accepted his comfort when you were upset, but it was always offered. When you knocked on his dorm door in tears, Remus was speechless. The boys were in the dorm as well, and they shared Remus’ shock. Their confusion increased when Remus walked out of the dorm and closed the door behind him. They could hear the hum of low conversation before it faded; Remus took you back down to the common room.

Did you end up snogging Remus that night after the common room cleared out? Yes. But after a few days away from Marcus, you were back with him. It left Remus confused and hurt. For two weeks, he watched you laugh and kiss and hug Marcus. For two weeks, he wondered what was going on. And then you were back at his dorm door, crying in a way that shook your entire body. This time the boys weren’t in the dorm so he brought you in.

Did you end up snogging? Yes. Did Sirius walk in on you? Yes. Were you even more flustered? Yes.

You awkwardly stood up and said, “Thanks, Remus.”

Then you walked out, avoiding eye contact with Sirius. Sirius tried to not give Remus a judgemental look, but it happened anyway.

“Moony…” he said slowly.

“Don’t.”

“As long as you’re aware…”

“Yeah. I know.”

Sirius told James and Peter what he walked in on the next when Remus wasn’t around. They had similar reactions. You and Remus shouldn’t be snogging. Not in their dorm. Not in the common room.

Especially when you went back to Marcus the next day.

This happened two more times before the boys tried to talk to Remus about it.

“She’s with Marcus, Moony,” Peter said.

“Not when she comes to me.”

“She’s with him now. Literally right now. They are probably necking in the courtyard,” Sirius said.

“Y/N only comes to you when she’s crying,” James added.

“Because she trusts me!”

“She comes to you for a snog before going back to Marcus,” Sirius said.

“But she keeps coming back. To me.”

“Mate, we hear you, but this…” James shook his head. “This isn’t right. You deserve better.”

“There’s nothing better than Y/N.”

Remus walked away from the boys, not wanting to discuss this with them. Sirius pursed his lips.

“Fine. If he won’t listen, maybe she will.”

Then he walked away with the mission of finding you. It didn’t take long for him to find you. You were leaving the library.

“Oi, Y/N!” he called, getting you attention. “We need to have a chat.”

You said bye to your friends and turned toward Sirius with your arms crossed. “Yeah, Black?”

“You need to stay away from Remus.”

You crunched your face in confusion.

“Whatever you’ve got going on with him. It needs to end. It’s not good for him.”

“It’s none of your business,” you said snippily.

“It’s going to hurt him in the long run, which means it’s my business. You got to stop. You can’t be playing with his heart like that.”

“I’m not-”

“You are! I don’t know how you don’t see it, but you are. It hurts him every time you come running to him and then you leave… For that fucking Ravenclaw? Don’t bounce between the two. Pick one. It’s not good for Remus.”

“Whatever, Sirius.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away from him. You didn’t like what Sirius said, but what could you say? You didn’t want to hurt Remus; that was never your intention. He just happened to be around when you were hurting and he offered comfort. He had been around enough times that you went to him automatically.

The next few days, Remus was never left alone by Sirius, James and Peter. He was only alone when he was in Arithmancy, and that was when he was alone with you. Not ideal for the boys, but you seemed to listen to Sirius. You didn’t look his way during class. You sat as far from him as you could. You didn’t want to hurt Remus any more than you apparently already had.

When you got into fights with Marcus, you went straight to your dorm. You didn't let anyone stop you. You knew Remus saw you but you kept walking, even if he said your name or reached out for you. You wouldn’t let him comfort you anymore.

A few weeks later, you were crying in the Astronomy Tower. You called it off with Marcus. Again. But this time it felt permanent. You knew it should be permanent. You shouldn’t go back to him. And you ended it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You had half a mind to go to Remus like you always did, but you kept thinking about what Sirius had said. So, you stayed in the tower and let out your feelings alone. You’d be okay. You always were.

The door creaked as it opened and you rubbed at your eyes. If someone was going to give you detention for being out after curfew, they weren’t going to do it with you crying.

“Y/N?” Remus asked softly.

You stiffened. Second to last person you wanted to see right now.

“Are… are you okay?”

You rubbed your eyes harder, but your sniffle gave you away. He was at your side within a second.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he whispered, but you pulled away.

He blinked in surprise. You never did that before. You had always leaned into him when you were crying.

“I don’t need you,” you said.

It sounded hollow. It felt hollow. But it hit Remus like a Stupify to the chest. Somewhere deep inside of him he knew that it was true. He had been clinging to the fact that you kept coming back to him, like it meant something. He had been ignoring his friends and their attempts to get him to see reason, but he really, really likes you. Even when you were walking away from him and towards Marcus, he liked you.

“I know.”

“Then go away, Remus.”

It was still hollow, and that made Remus want to stay even more.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. Just… go away.”

“Oh… Okay,” he said softly, standing up and turning towards the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder and added, “Don’t stay out too late. You’ll need sleep.”

Even when you were shoving him away, he cared for you more than he should have. Remus couldn’t let go of you. And you didn’t understand how he could do that. Somewhere inside of you, Sirius’ words echoed and reverberated. By going to Remus whenever things went south with you and Marcus was hurting him, and that mattered more than however much it helped you. You would survive without Remus’ arms around you. You didn’t know how much it was hurting Remus to kiss you and then watch you leave time after time.

The next day, you didn’t go back to Marcus. Nor the next nor the day after. Time kept passing and you stayed away from him. He tried to talk to you once, but you told him no and walked away. You owed it to yourself to keep things ended, even if it hurt, even if you missed being held and loved. You needed to clear your head and that meant staying away from Marcus and Remus. You avoided him as much as you could, filling your time with your friends or just being alone. You could walk the castle or grounds and be with your thoughts. Maybe that’d help you see what you needed to do.

You were up late in the common room alone. It wasn’t a rare occurrence. Usually, you were working on an assignment you had put off or wanted to do really well on. This time you were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, hugging your knees to your chest. You had never felt so empty. You knew what was missing: Remus. But you can’t go back to him. Even if you want to treat him right this time, Sirius and James and Peter… They’d find a way to convince Remus to shut you out, as they should. It was right of them to be protective of him.

Then the portrait opened. Remus walked in. You looked up and your heart stopped beating. You hadn’t realized he was out on prefect patrols.

“Hey,” he said from the other side of the common room. There’s an awkwardness in the air between you.

Remus had stopped walking when he made eye contact with you. He wasn’t sure where he stood with you anymore. He wasn’t sure if you were even friends anymore. He tried to be what you needed and somehow that drove you alone. Remus wasn’t aware of what Sirius said to you, nor that you took it to heart.

“Hi.” Your voice was as hollow as it was when you really ended things with Marcus.

“Do…” He shouldn’t ask and he knows it. He should go to bed. “Do you need someone?”

“No. Not someone.” You wet your lips before pressing them together. “I need you.”

Remus hated how he was at your side with a few strides, how he sat down on the floor next to you and put his arms around you. But then, like you used to, you leaned into his side. You weren’t crying and curling in on yourself like you had in the past. This time you wrapped your arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. You inhaled deeply, relishing in his smell. Merlin, you had missed it.

“‘M mry,” you mumbled into his chest.

Remus rubbed your back and peered down at you. “Hmm?”

You pulled your face back just enough to repeat, “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

You nodded and hugged Remus tighter. If you relinquished your grip on him, you were certain he’d go to bed and you’d lose this moment forever.

“That’s an awful lot to be sorry for, darling.”

You mumbled something into his chest again, but Remus let it be. You were in his arms again, and it wasn’t because you were running from Marcus. He hadn’t seen you with him for over a month. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but it felt so good to have you burying yourself into his chest. He just rubbed your back.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered after a while.

Remus hummed in confusion again, a simple urge to keep talking.

“You… you deserve better than me. Someone who sees how amazing you are. All the time. Not just when I’m hurting.”

You felt Remus shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“You should.”

“I’d rather have you at your worst moments than not at all. I don’t really care what that says about me.”

You hugged Remus tighter. You truly did not deserve to have this boy in your life.

“Would you have me all the time if I asked?” you asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“Can I ask something?”

He hummed.

“How come you never asked?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be mine in the way that I’m yours.”

“I… I want to be yours, Remus.” You adjusted in his arms so you could look at him fully. “I want to be the one who’s next to you. I want to be the one kissing you and holding you. I want to always be coming to you. Not just when I feel like crying. But when I’ve had a good day or a mediocre day or when I’ve just heard a stupid joke or finished a book. I want to dance with you at parties and sit next to you in class. I want to give you my notes so that you can not-so-secretly give them to your friends. I want to sit with you in the hospital wing whenever you miss class to make sure you aren’t falling behind in any way.” You paused for a breath. “I want to be yours, if you’d have it in you to have me.”

“I have it in me,” Remus said before using his arms around you to bring you close enough to kiss.

It felt different than the times you snogged him. It was better. It was better because this time it matter who you were kissing. Not only was this Remus, but this was Remus who had been yours before you’d asked and now you were his. You had just been too blind to see before that he was truly yours, but he always had been. You don’t want to think what might’ve been if you had seen it. That would make you too sad.

Now wasn’t a sad moment. Now the beginning of you and Remus in the fullness of your feelings. You weren’t going to let go of him anytime soon. This was your Remus. And your Remus didn’t mind your flaws and mistakes.

tags: @navs-bhat, @faceache111

#marauders #marauder-misprint #marauders fic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader

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lila-lou · 23 hours ago

Text

✨Played - 4/5✨

Summary: You’re an aspiring actress stuck in dead-end roles, desperate for a break. Then you meet Jensen. Kind, connected and smitten Jensen. You don’t love him, but you pretend to. Until pretending turns real.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, IMMORAL ffs

Word Count: 6111

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

The first date wasn’t bad.

In fact, it was nice. Jensen picked a quiet little Italian place with low lighting and real candles on the tables. No press, no crowds, just the two of you and a bottle of red wine he insisted on choosing because “you can’t trust a place that serves pasta and bad cab”.

He made you laugh. A lot. That slow, steady charm wasn’t something he turned on and off, it was just him. And you liked that. You liked him. It wasn’t hard to enjoy his company, to listen to his stories or how he still didn’t know how to properly use TikTok.

But still.

You didn’t feel that spark. That all-consuming, edge-of-your-seat kind of pull. You were relaxed, not electric. Drawn, but not lit up.

And yet… there was a second date. Then a third.

He kissed you goodnight each time like he meant it. Held your hand when he walked you to your door. Texted just enough to let you know he was thinking about you, but never in a way that felt overbearing.

By the end of the third date, it was just… kind of understood. You were his.

And damn, he was into you. Really into you. The way he looked at you now was different. There was trust in it. Affection. Something softer and deeper that you didn’t know how to hold.

And that’s when the guilt started. Because you felt it since day one, that pit in your stomach, the weight you’d carried even during that first thing in the truck. You were playing a part. Not because you hated being with him. Not because it wasn’t fun, or sweet, or safe. But you wanted a job. You wanted in. You were tired of auditioning for crumbs while watching people with connections leapfrog their way through the industry.

And Jensen? He was a door. A very kind, very handsome, very real door. And the worst part? He didn’t deserve that. And you knew it.

You were curled up on the couch, half-watching some old movie with the volume low, nursing a cup of tea that had gone cold twenty minutes ago. You hadn’t moved. Your thoughts had been circling all day, guilt mostly, wrapped in flashes of Jensen’s smile, the way he said your name like it meant something.

You’d almost forgotten he was coming over tonight. Almost.

You remembered only when the knock came and before you could even get up, Lila was already halfway to the door, calling over her shoulder, “Probably Alex. I told him I’d—”. She opened it. And there stood Jensen. Tall. Broad. In a black hoodie. His hands were in his pockets, smile already forming, until he realized it wasn’t you who answered the door.

Lila blinked. Jensen blinked.

“Uh… hey”, he said, polite but visibly confused.

“Hi”, Lila replied slowly, eyes narrowing slightly, piecing things together fast. “You’re… not Alex”.

You shot up from the couch like someone had yanked a cord. “Lila”, you called out, voice tighter than you wanted, “it’s okay. He’s—uh—he’s here for me”.

Lila turned halfway to glance at you, brows raised, then back to Jensen. He gave her a small, awkward smile. “Sorry—didn’t mean to crash anything”.

“No”, Lila said, stepping aside. “It’s fine. I was just heading out”. But the tone in her voice said this is not fine. She gave you a look—pointed, curious, maybe even a little hurt. You hadn’t told her. Not a word. And she knew it now. “You two have fun”, she added, grabbing her keys from the hook. “Don’t wait up”.

The moment the door clicked shut behind Lila, the silence settled thick between you. Jensen stood there, still in the hoodie, still wearing that quiet, patient look that somehow made everything worse. He wasn’t angry. That would’ve been easier to handle. He just looked… disappointed.

“You didn’t tell her we’re a thing?”, he asked, voice low, careful. It wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t bitter. But it hit you like a punch anyway.

Your fingers tightened around the cold tea mug still in your hand. You looked down at it, then back at him, trying to find something to say that didn’t sound like a lie. “I was going to”, you said, too fast. “I just— I didn’t know how”.

Jensen nodded slowly, jaw tightening for a second like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to let out. “She your best friend, right?”.

You nodded.

“And we’ve been… together for a while now”.

Another nod. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“So what’s that mean?”, he asked, and though his tone was still soft, there was something fragile about it now. Something tired. “Are we a secret? Or just not something you want to explain?”.

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Because what could you say? That you were using him? That this whole thing started because of a moment you thought would get you further in a world where you felt like you were drowning?

But now he was looking at you like you were worth something. And that made it worse. Because maybe, in some messed-up way, you liked being seen that way.

“I didn’t mean to hide you”, you finally said, voice thin. “I just didn’t want questions”.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, not with judgment, but with something like realization. “What kind of questions?”.

The ones you couldn’t answer without unraveling everything.

You forced a small smile, the kind that hurt your cheeks more than it should’ve. “Do we really have to talk about this right now?”.

Jensen looked at you for a long moment, searching. Then he walked past you slowly and sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees. “Yeah”, he said softly. “I think we do”.

You hated this part. The questions. The quiet expectations in his voice. The way he looked at you like he already knew something was off but didn’t want to believe it.

So, you did what you’d been doing since the beginning. You crossed the room, slowly. You sat on his lap, straddling him just like you had the first time.

You kissed him, soft and lingering, and you felt him hesitate, just a second, before kissing you back. His hands found your waist out of instinct, not urgency, and his mouth moved against yours with more gentleness than you deserved.

Because he knew what you were doing. Maybe he didn’t know why yet, but he knew enough to recognize the pattern. When things got too real, too close to the truth, you leaned into his body. Not his heart. And every time, he let you.

You kissed down his jaw and whispered something soft, something meaningless. You guided his hands to your hips and tilted your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

And he let you. Again.

An hour later, the room was quiet again. Your cheek rested on his bare chest, your hand tracing the edge of the sheet absently, like you were trying to stay somewhere between here and not. Jensen lay beneath you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lightly across your back. He hadn’t said much since. Not during. Not after.

And that silence? It was starting to press in.

You felt it in the way his fingers tapped absently against your spine. Not rhythmic. Not gentle. Just… distracted. Restless. And then, finally, his voice broke through the stillnes, quiet, hesitant. “Do you really want this?”.

Your hand stilled. He didn’t look down at you, but you felt the weight of his words anyway. You stayed quiet. So he went on.

“I just…”, he exhaled, like this had been living in his chest for weeks, maybe longer. “You’re always kind of far away. Except when we’re… like that”.

He paused. Waited. Still, you said nothing.

“You barely talk about how you feel”, he continued, voice steady, but softer now. “You don’t let me in. And when I ask, you kiss me. When I push, you take off your clothes”.

That one stung a little. You tried not to flinch.

“So I need to know”, he said, finally glancing down at you. “Do you actually want this? Or are you just trying not to be alone?”.

You felt your throat tighten. You pulled back a bit, still resting against him, but now your eyes met his. You tried to defuse it with a smirk, with that same charm you always used when you needed to dodge something real.

“Well”, you said, half-laughing, “it´s hard to speak with.. a full mouth”.

But he didn’t laugh. Not even a twitch of his mouth. His eyes just searched yours, steady, sad, and too clear.

You felt the ache rising in your throat like it might choke you. And still, you didn’t let it show. You were too good at this by now, at performing tenderness, at dressing up guilt in something softer. Something that could pass for love if he didn’t look too closely.

So you shifted, slowly, like every move was natural. Like it hadn’t been rehearsed in your head a hundred times before. You brought your hand up, fingers light against the rough edge of his jaw. His stubble scraped your palm in that way you’d grown used to, comforting even when everything else inside you was a storm.

You leaned in. Eyes locked on his. And in the gentlest voice you could manage, you whispered, “I want this”.

Then you kissed him. Softly. Sweetly. The kind of kiss that said you matter even if you weren’t ready to mean it.

And he kissed you back. Because of course he did. Because Jensen believed you. Or maybe he just wanted to.

And as his hand slid up your back, pulling you closer again, you let yourself pretend, just for a second, that you weren’t lying. That you weren’t still keeping score in your head, tracking callbacks, open roles, who he might know, and how long it would take before that part of you finally caught up with the rest.

“If you’re really sure”, Jensen started, voice barely above a murmur, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles across your lower back, “then there’s something I should probably tell you”.

You stilled against him, just a beat. Just long enough to register what was coming. But not long enough to show it.

He sat up a little, shifting so you were still tucked against him, but could see his face. There was something nervous in his eyes, nervous and serious, like he’d been holding this in for a while. “I didn’t want to say anything at first”, he said. “I liked that you didn’t know. That you weren’t with me for… that”.

You furrowed your brow just enough to sell it. “For what?”.

He hesitated, then gave a half-laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m… kind of in the industry. Like, acting. Been doing it a long time”.

Your eyes widened, just the right amount. “Wait, what?”.

Jensen chuckled softly, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I’ve been on a few shows. The one I’m mostly known for is Supernatural. I played a character named Dean for, uh… fifteen years”.

You blinked, tilted your head, giving him a slow, faux-intrigued smile. “Wait. That’s why you looked familiar”.

His smile grew, just a little. “You’ve seen it?”.

You gave him a look like you were putting it together for the first time. “Yeah. Not all of it, but… yeah. I didn’t realize that was you”.

It wasn’t your proudest moment, but your performance was flawless. Soft awe in your voice. Curious, not overly impressed. Not too starstruck. Just enough to make him feel like he’d told you something meaningful.

He relaxed. Like a weight had come off his chest.

You leaned in again, brushing your lips across his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”.

Jensen let out a quiet breath. “Because I wanted you to see me. Not Dean. Not the name. Just… me”.

You smiled and rested your head back against his chest. And once again, you let him believe it. Even as your stomach twisted a little tighter. Because the more he opened up… the worse it was going to hurt when he found out the truth.

Jensen’s chest rose slowly beneath your cheek, and for a few moments, he didn’t say anything. You could feel his fingers tracing the curve of your spine—gentle, absent-minded—and then they stilled, like the thought forming in his head had finally caught up to his mouth. “I’ve been thinking”, he murmured, almost like he wasn’t sure he should be saying it out loud. “About… making this official”.

You didn’t move. Your heart picked up, but your face stayed calm. Controlled. “Official?”, you echoed, playing innocent.

He shifted slightly, angling himself so he could see you better, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Like… public. The whole deal. But if we do that, there’ll be attention. Press. Cameras, probably. People asking questions about you. Us”.

You blinked up at him, letting the hesitation flicker in your expression, not real, but practiced.

He gave you a soft, lopsided smile. “I just wanna make sure you’re good with that. I don’t wanna throw you into the spotlight if that’s not what you want”.

But it was. Fuck, it was everything you wanted. Attention. Access. Recognition.

Not just because of him, but through him. The idea of being seen, really seen, as more than just another name on a casting list? It sent a bolt of electricity through your chest. You could already imagine it: the headlines, the tagged photos, the curiosity. Jensen Ackles’ new girlfriend—an actress on the rise.

Doors would open. People would look twice. Finally.

You looked at him, eyes soft, smile slow. “I think I could handle it”.

He studied you for a second, the smallest flicker of something wary in his expression, but then he nodded, exhaled, and kissed your forehead. “I’m glad”, he said, and meant it.

And just like that, another line blurred.

The next morning was quiet, the way mornings are when everything still feels like it’s pretending to be okay.

Jensen was in the shower, steam billowing under the bathroom door, the muffled sound of water running steady and comforting, like it belonged in a normal life. In a real relationship. You were standing barefoot in the kitchen, hair messy, his hoodie hanging off your shoulder as you stirred a spoon around a cup of coffee you weren’t drinking.

The front door creaked open. Keys hit the bowl by the entrance. And then—“Seriously?”. Lila’s voice.

You didn’t turn around right away. But she was already there, standing in the kitchen doorway, arms folded across her chest like she’d been holding this in for a while.

She looked you up and down, your bare legs, your borrowed hoodie, the look in your eyes that didn’t match the cozy scene. “What the hell is going on?”, she asked. “You told me months ago you weren’t into him. You said—and I quote—‘he’s too old, too polite, too not it’. And now what? He’s your boyfriend?”.

You forced a tired smile, blowing on the coffee you weren’t going to drink. “I guess I changed my mind”.

Lila’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit”.

You let out a soft laugh. “Wow. Good morning to you, too”.

“Don’t do that”, she snapped. “Don’t deflect. I know you, and this?”. She gestured to you—to the hoodie, the coffee, the silence. “This isn’t you. It’s a performance”.

You finally looked at her. And for a split second, your mask slipped, just enough to make your throat tighten. But you recovered quickly. “Maybe I just like him more than I expected to”, you said, calm and even. “Is that really so hard to believe?”.

Lila didn’t blink. “Yeah. Actually, it is. Because I know the difference between you being happy and you being strategic”.

The water shut off in the bathroom. You both went silent.

Lila shook her head slowly. “He has no idea, does he?”.

You didn’t answer. And that, in itself, was an answer.

“What happened to you?”, Lila’s voice dropped low, barely above a whisper, but each word was sharp, cutting not with anger, but disappointment. And somehow that stung worse.

You stared down at your mug, the coffee inside rippling slightly in your hands. You didn’t answer. She stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm, like she was trying to protect both of you, from being overheard, and maybe from the truth.

“He’s such a good guy”, she said. “Really fucking good. And you know that. You see it. He doesn’t deserve this—whatever this is. You pretending. Playing games”.

You felt your jaw tighten. “I’m not”, you said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m not playing anything”.

Lila didn’t move. “Then tell me what this is”.

You looked up at her, and for a second, you wanted to lie. To say it was love, or something close. That it just happened, that you caught feelings, that maybe this was real. But the words stuck in your throat.

Because it wasn’t love. It was safety. Access. Comfort. Still, you forced the words out. “I like him”, you said, softer. “A lot. I do”.

Lila stared at you for a long moment. Her expression didn’t change. “But not even close to enough”, she said.

You didn’t deny it. Not this time. The bathroom door creaked open behind you.

Jensen’s voice called out, cheerful, unsuspecting. “Babe, you got a towel?”.

You turned toward the sound, calling back with a small, practiced smile. “Coming“.

And just like that, you stepped back into the role. But Lila? She watched you go, eyes full of something that wasn’t anger. It was sadness. Because she knew what you were losing. Even if you didn’t yet.

A few weeks later, it came.

The email sat in your inbox for a full hour before you opened it. Not because you forgot—not this time. You knew it was there. You saw the subject line, saw the sender. And for the first time, your heart didn’t race with dread.

It buzzed with something else. You read the first few lines. Then again. We’d love to offer you the role.

A named character. Recurring. Not just some one-liner, not “Waitress #2” or “Girl Who Screams and Dies”. A real role. The kind of break you’d been chasing since your first audition. The kind of role people could build on.

And then you saw the line at the end of the message: “We’d be glad to have Jensen Ackles’ girlfriend on our show”.

There it was. The truth. Staring at you in black and white. You sat back in your chair, phone still in your hand, the weight of those words pressing hard against your chest.

Because you got what you wanted. It worked. All of it. The smiling. The nodding. The lying. You played your part so well they cast you in real life. But instead of joy, there was something else creeping in. An echo of Lila’s voice. “He doesn’t deserve this”.

Jensen walked into the room a few minutes later, hair still damp from a shower, tugging on a clean t-shirt as he smiled at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. “Hey”, he said. “You okay?”.

You looked up at him, phone still glowing in your hand, and managed a smile. “I got it”, you said. “The role”.

His face lit up, pride blooming instantly across his features. “What? Are you serious?”. He crossed the room in two strides, arms around you, kissing your forehead like he’d just watched your dream come true. “You deserve it”, he whispered.

And maybe that was the moment it broke you a little. Because you knew—deep down—you didn’t.

“Let’s celebrate”, Jensen said, voice warm, sure, happy. “You and me. Dinner. Tonight”. His thumb brushed your cheek so gently, it made your throat tighten.

You nodded before you could think better of it, before the guilt could fully crawl up your spine. His eyes were sparkling, lit up with something that felt big and pure and earned, as if he’d landed the role, not you. As if your win was his, too.

You didn’t deserve the way he looked at you. Not with that kind of pride. Not with that kind of love.

You leaned into his hand anyway, smiled anyway. “I’d like that”, you said, voice soft and careful. “Just us”.

He kissed you then, gentle, slow, grounding. His hands stayed at your jaw, steady, and it was like he didn’t just want to celebrate with you, he wanted to celebrate you. And you let him.

The days blurred in golden tones—champagne toasts, industry parties you never would’ve been invited to before, and cameras that followed you now not because of you, but because of him.

Filming wouldn’t start for another four weeks. Four more weeks of pretending. Four more weeks of kissing Jensen like it meant more than it did, of posting soft photos and heart emojis and making sure you always looked just the right amount of lucky.

And you were. Lucky.

At least, that’s what the internet said. Thousands of new followers. Blue checkmark. Brand DMs sliding into your inbox. People called you “an inspiration”, “a rising star”, “Jensen’s stunning girlfriend”.

He bought you gifts—things you’d never even dare to touch before. A bag you saw in a glass case once. A pair of heels with red bottoms. Jewelry in velvet boxes with names that echoed through Fifth Avenue.

And through it all, he kept looking at you like he couldn’t believe you were his.

And you? You kept playing your part. Until the night it all snapped.

It was just supposed to be a quiet evening. Pizza, wine, something brainless on TV. But Lila was already on edge when she came home. She barely looked at you. Didn’t say much. Just moved through the apartment with that sharp, clipped energy you recognized too well.

It started over something small. A jacket that smelled like Jensen’s cologne draped over the kitchen chair.

Then the words started. Quick, sharp, escalating fast. “I don’t even know who you are anymore”.

You rolled your eyes, already defensive. “You’re being dramatic”.

“No”, she shot back, “you’re being a bitch!”.

That stopped you cold.

“You lie to him every day”, she said, voice trembling now, “and you lie to yourself even worse”.

“Don’t you dare—”.

“You use him. You sleep next to him nearly every night and pretend, and the worst part? He loves you”.

That one landed hard. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I know!”, you snapped, eyes burning. “Don’t you think I know that?”.

The silence that followed was crushing. Lila’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then why are you still here? I don´t want someone like you in my life”.

You didn’t have an answer.

And when she pointed to the door, you didn’t argue. You packed a small bag. Shaking fingers, blurry eyes. No plan. Just out.

And then you were standing there, outside Jensen’s apartment. The hallway was quiet. Your knuckles hovered for a second before they rapped against the door, quick and desperate.

You didn’t know where else to go. Tears were already spilling, your breath catching in uneven gasps as you stood there, hoodie pulled over your head like that could hide how broken you felt.

And then the door opened. Jensen stood there, his face going soft the moment he saw you. He didn’t ask what happened. He just opened his arms. And you stepped into them.

Jensen didn’t ask questions. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers you weren’t ready to give. He just pulled you in, quiet, steady, and wrapped his arms around you like he was shielding you from something the rest of the world didn’t know was chasing you.

You didn’t say anything, not really. Just a broken, whispered, “Lila…”, and his hand moved up to the back of your head, pressing you to his chest. “I got you”, he murmured. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.

He gave you his bed, his hoodie, his silence. And when you curled into him hours later, limbs tangled under soft sheets, eyes too tired to cry anymore, you let go.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the emotional wreckage still settling in your bones. Or maybe it was the fact that this man, who you’d been lying to for weeks, still looked at you like you were worth everything.

So when his lips brushed yours, soft, slow, reverent, you didn’t control it. You didn’t perform. You just let yourself feel.

He kissed you like you were glass, and maybe you were—cracked and thin and dangerously close to shattering—but he didn’t try to fix you. He just held you. Kissed you again. And again. Like he could remind you who you were without saying a word.

And when he moved above you, guided you with patience, with care, with that same steady kindness you’d tried to ignore, you didn’t lead this time. You let him.

He was slow.

Everything about him, his hands, his breath, the way his body moved with yours, was deliberate. Not in hesitation, but in intention. Like he wasn’t just touching your skin; he was memorizing it. Like he wasn’t just making love to you, he was choosing you.

And for once, you let him. You didn’t try to stay ahead of it. You didn’t guide his hands, or redirect the moment into something easier, safer, more performative. You didn’t make it about control or seduction.

You let him set the pace. And it was achingly gentle.

He kissed you like there was no rush. Like you were a little broken, but not too broken to be wanted.

His fingers moved over you with reverence, trailing slow over your ribs, your waist, like he was grounding you there with him. As if to say: You’re here. You’re real. And I want all of it.

No one had ever touched you like that. Not like they were grateful. No one had ever made you feel safe in the softness.

And with every breath he gave you, with every whisper of your name against your collarbone, every time he paused just to look at you, you felt something unravel that you didn’t even know you were holding in.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing warm and steady, and his voice, low and impossibly gentle, cut through the quiet like a secret. “Wanna relax for me?”. The words were a whisper, more intimate than anything he could’ve done with his hands. And it wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a request, really. It was an invitation.

One you didn’t expect. One you weren’t sure you deserved. But you nodded. Barely. Just enough for him to feel it.

You could feel him waiting, holding back even then, like he didn’t want to move until you were ready. Until you were fully there with him.

So you took a breath. You let it out. And you let go. Not completely. Not all at once. But enough.

You felt him enter you with care, so slow, so steady it almost didn’t feel real at first. His breath caught in his throat, a low exhale brushing past your cheek, and you realized he was holding back everything for you.

Every motion Jensen made was intentional, respectful, almost reverent. Like he wasn’t just making love to you, he was trying to tell you something without saying it. Something he was afraid you weren’t ready to hear.

You weren’t sure what changed. Maybe it was the tears earlier. Maybe it was finally letting him hold you. Maybe it was the way he didn’t question your mess, didn’t ask you to be fixed, didn’t expect you to give more than you could.

Whatever it was, it cracked something open inside you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Not just physically, but emotionally. You weren’t holding on for control. You were holding on because it felt safe. He kissed your shoulder, your jaw, the edge of your mouth. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just present.

He moved inside you with that same deliberate care. Slow, unhurried, like he didn’t want to just take pleasure from your body, but give something back to it. To you.

Jensen didn’t speak. No dirty talk, no teasing words. Just breath, soft, uneven, like even he was overwhelmed by how close this felt. How raw.

But he knew your body. Knew how to move. Knew just how deep to go, just how to shift his hips so that every stroke lit something inside you without pushing too far, too fast. He touched places you didn’t even know ached, places that had been waiting to be seen, to be treated like they mattered.

He didn’t need to say anything. His body spoke for him. Every motion said: I’m here. I’m not rushing. You’re safe.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets beside you, a quiet gasp catching in your throat, not from pain, not from heat, but from the weight of how gentle it all was. How full you felt. How careful he was with you.

And for once, you didn’t feel like you had to perform.

You didn’t have to impress him, or manipulate the moment, or be anything other than exactly what you were. Wanted. Held. Known.

And something in you—something hard and sharp and long-protected—melted.

It was the way he kissed your temple like it was sacred. The way his thumb brushed your cheekbone. The way he breathed your name like a vow. You realized then… This wasn’t a transaction. This wasn’t strategy. This was him, giving all of himself, whether you asked for it or not. And for the first time, you were starting to wonder… If maybe you wanted to give something real in return.

One moment, you were lost in the rhythm of him, the slow, deep roll of his body against yours, the warmth of his skin, the grounding press of his hands. And the next, your breath hitched, your fingers dug into his back, and you came, quietly, fully, undone.

It wasn’t loud or wild or performative. It was real. And maybe that’s what made it hit so hard.

He held you through it, his movements steady, like he was chasing the same edge but waiting for you to finish first. Like your pleasure mattered more than his own. And then he followed.

With one final thrust, one deep, shaking breath, he came, pressed flush against you, his body curling around yours like he could shield you from the world.

And just as the air left his lungs, he whispered it, so low you almost missed it: "I love you".

The words sank into your ear like they’d been waiting. Not rushed. Not planned. Just true. You froze. Not in fear. Not in panic. But in the sharp, sudden ache of realization. He’d meant it. He’d been meaning it.

He eased out of you gently, shifting beside you with care, like he didn’t want to break whatever delicate thread still held the moment together. His arm remained loosely draped across your waist, breath still uneven, skin warm and flushed.

He didn’t seem to realize what he’d said, not fully.

You watched him through the corner of your eye, the way he lay there in a daze, chest rising and falling like he was still coming down from something bigger than either of you could name.

“Wow”, he breathed, voice rough with disbelief, eyes still half-lidded as he looked at the ceiling. “That was… something else”.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You laid there, stiff and quiet, the sound of your own heartbeat thudding somewhere in your ears. There was this tightness rising in your chest, something unfamiliar and terrifying. It started in your throat and moved upward, until your eyes stung.

You blinked hard. Tried to breathe through it. But it was no use. Because you heard him. And no matter how softly it was said, no matter how casually he’d moved past it, you felt it. Those words sat heavy between your ribs now, echoing louder than anything else.

I love you.

And for someone like you, someone who had been pretending for so long, who’d wrapped herself in calculated smiles and half-truths, those words didn’t feel like a gift.

They felt like a mirror.

One that showed you everything you’d been doing, and how deep you’d gone.

You turned your face away from him slightly, blinking again as a tear slipped out and disappeared into the pillow.

He didn’t see it. Didn’t notice the way your fingers curled tightly into the sheet, like they were the only thing keeping you anchored.

The silence stretched.

Jensen’s breath had begun to steady, but yours hadn’t. Not really. You lay there, unmoving, blinking slow against the damp edge of your lashes, trying to will the ache in your chest into something quieter. Something manageable.

But you didn’t answer him. And that was what gave you away.

He shifted beside you, slowly, gently, like approaching something delicate. You felt the way his gaze dropped, felt the moment his hand, still resting at your waist, stilled completely. “…Hey”, he said softly.

You didn’t look at him. But you could feel it.. the way his body changed. His warmth leaned in closer, his hand sliding up from your waist to your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Did I… did I hurt you?”.

The question was barely a whisper, full of concern and a quiet fear you hadn’t heard in his voice before. That broke something loose.

Your chin wobbled before you could stop it, a single breath catching in your throat as you finally blinked, letting another tear roll slowly into the pillow. You shook your head. “No”, you whispered. “You didn’t hurt me”.

But that didn’t ease his worry. “Then what is it?”, he asked gently, shifting so he could see your face. “Talk to me”.

You wanted to. God, you wanted to say something—anything that would make this moment less excruciating. Less real. But your mouth stayed shut. Your lips pressed together like they could keep all the truths locked inside a little longer. Because what were you supposed to say? I’m scared because I think I’m falling for you, and I never meant to? Because I’ve been lying and I don’t know how to stop? Because you said you loved me and I might actually love you too but I don’t think I deserve it?

You couldn’t say any of that.

So instead, you did the one thing you always knew how to do: you curled into him, tucked your face into his chest, and let him hold you like he always did, gentle, patient, steady. And for now, he didn’t ask again. But you both knew that silence couldn’t last forever.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles the boys #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen fucking ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #spn cast

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dearsnow · 1 day ago

Text

JUST BARELY

- you knew your husband’s job was the highest level of dangerous, but you getting dragged into it was an unexpected consequence. (nanami kento x fem!reader, established relationship, ANGST ANGST and a little fluff, talks of divorce. ⚠️ descriptions of extreme violence against reader (decapitation?), depressing thoughts, hospitals, anxiety)

word count: 3,469

a/n - my quick return to writing (once again)! i have no clue if i’m going to continue, but i do have something planned for toji. also, this is my first anime fic on this blog (i had lots in the past…), so enjoy, i guess 😭 i <3 angst

The day was quietly unassuming.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds to your right, the soft, banded warmth drowning you in a barely-earlier-than-sunset glow. There were still birds outside, settling in after their last search for the dry twigs of mid autumn, and dust motes floated through the air like lazy dancers. Your hands were working hard scrubbing dishes, the soapy water cascading through your pruning fingers, while your mind drifted to here and there and far away.

It was silent, just barely, save for a slight hum from your lips, the gurgling of the sink, and muffled chirps. Perfect, serene, lovely. The kind of day where you finish your chores with a satisfied smile and damp brow. Where you turn on the shower, just cold enough to wash away the feeling of sweat, and rub products into your skin until it shines beneath your towel. You’d finish just in time to slip into an old oversized t-shirt and shorts before you hear your husband’s key in the lock and rush to greet him at the door.

Instead of the lock, or the almost unnoticeable sound of his car pulling into the driveway, a phone call breaks the silence. You let out a small puff of air.

Your phone rings and rings as you turn off the sink, wipe your hands on a dish towel, and pick it up. It’s a number you don’t recognize, but you answer it on the last ring anyway.

“Mrs. Nanami, yes?” The voice speaks, streaked with the crackles of a terrible phone signal. There’s chaos in the background.

You feel your stomach drop to your feet. A shout plays out next to your ear, a crash, what sounds like the thumping of feet, the crunch of what you can only hope is an inanimate object. “Yes,” your voice is shaky, soft, but still holding on to some impossible hope.

“I will send your husband’s current location. Best come quickly.”

The call ended without another word, the beeps indicating its disconnection bouncing like funeral shots in your head. The world fell away without any noise.

Your hands gripped the wheel. You couldn’t even feel them over the pounding in your body; your heart was beating so fast it was more like a dull hum, your stomach was twisted in noose-like knots, and your eyes were already blurred with tears. What made the whole situation worse is that the number wasn’t Ijichi’s, and the voice wasn’t his either. Something big had happened, big enough to occupy your husband’s mission contact and force a third party to call you. You were surprised you hadn’t taken a wrong turn yet, but the navigation’s choppy female voice cut into your head like a knife.

Everything was top-secret, always, always. You were never in the know. You had no clue if your husband would come home covered in his own blood or even at all. You didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing—just that he was fighting curses, curses you could see but couldn’t do anything about. You weren’t a fighter, who were you kidding?

If it came down to it, though, you’d fight them all to have him in your arms again.

When you arrived, you weren’t at a hospital. You weren’t at a battleground. You were standing in an alley, chest heaving with the weight of your pounding steps. God, you thought, please don’t let him be in a puddle of blood.

From around the corner, you could hear voices. Two separate phone calls at the same time.

“Your wife-“

“Yes, I know. I know. The bounty. We’ll get hi-“

“Come quick, th-“

“Disoriented, cramped, trying to save her-“

“Badly hurt-“

“I KNOW. We will kill him, god willing.” The second phone call clicked off.

“I’ll send you the location.” The first ended soon after.

You stood, knees weak. What was that? What were they talking about? Was Kento… was he safe? You were too confused, too disoriented to process a single word.

Before you could hide, before you could investigate, the two voices rounded the corner.

Two men, tall and hulking. One’s face was obscured by a hoodie, the other a mask. Cursed energy ran boundlessly in the air. A phone was dropped with a clatter.

“Well fuck, she’s here early.”

You were speeding. You left as soon as the call ended, no preparation. You didn’t even grab your purse. You were early.

“Change of plans, man. We can get him in his emotions another way, huh?” His voice dripped with spite, nasally and thick. He pulled the other man’s mask down further. “Just kill her, he’ll be too overcome with grief to fight back.”

The masked one sighed. You blinked. Your feet were glued to the ground, but it didn’t matter anyway. He was faster.

Gleaming metal, a sharp “thwack”, your vision going dark. You crumpled on the dirty alley ground, gushing blood ruining your pajamas.

“You’re such an idiot, you didn’t even cut all the way through. Her head’s still on, fucker.” He sneered. Your ears rang louder.

The other voice, deeper, more hardened, just scoffed. “Just barely. You see that blood? She’s dead. There’s an inch connecting her head to her goddamn neck. Just wait, dipshit.” The arguing faded in and out of your ears.

In your haze, you noticed something. You could move. Barely, slowly, but you could. They wouldn’t notice with their heated conversation, you hoped. Your hand reached up and landed in a pile of wetness and severed hair. There wasn’t a head where you used to have one. You moved to the left, feeling. You couldn’t feel anything but the skin of your palm. It was a miracle, maybe, that you weren’t in excruciating pain.

You could feel flesh, jagged and nasty. Your fingers clumsily gripped the edges and pulled down and down and down until you could feel the connection between head and neck become whole again, the canyon between your parts replaced by a terrible line. Unsure if it would even do anything, you descended into hopelessness. Trap. Please, Kento, know it’s a trap. Don’t die.

For the second time that day, you faded into black.

Nanami paced. He paced back and forth in the hospital, steps echoing through the cold, white hallway. Shoko stood next to him, saying as little as possible.

“The call. I should’ve known, should’ve warned her. It was too suspicious. She wouldn’t know that. She isn’t a sorcerer, Shoko. She didn’t know what was real.”

Shoko sighed, the bags under her eyes growing darker by the second. “There was nothing you could do. Nothing I could do with something like that, so fuck the usefulness of reversed cursed techniques. Just… hope. Hope the surgeons can do their jobs, because I know you’ll be in prison for killing them if they don’t.” Nanami just stopped, so close to the wall she thought he would slam his head on it and join his just-barely-alive wife. Instead, he turned, back against the panel, and slid down it. His face was buried in his hands. His shoulders shook. If Shoko listened closely, she could just barely hear his quiet sobs.

“I’m an idiot. A bad husband.” His voice was choked, and Shoko could feel herself slipping into a state of grief as well. You were good. You made people happy. You greeted her with a small wave and a sincere attitude. If the world lost you, it would be a damned shame.

“You’re human, Nanamin. That’s all you can be.”

There were eight hours of silence, eight hours of crying. Eight hours of even Gojo having nothing to say. Eight hours of that stupid “in progress” light being lit above the operating room, and eight eternities of torture. Nanami was spiraling.

“Why would those fuckers target my wife? Why not me? What happened? Please, don’t let her die. If a god exists, don’t let her die,” he muttered incoherently over and over. No one could get through to him—it was like breaking an iron wall with a wet noodle and a dream. They just hoped that when it was all over, you would be there, sparkling-eyed and smiling.

When the surgeons finally came out, they were grim. The first one, who spoke to Nanami, had shaky hands. Not during surgery, he assured him. Simply because the amount of violence you endured was almost unsalvageable. But you survived, just barely.

You wouldn’t be awake for a while. It was best, they said, to keep you away from that pain for as long as they could. They had mended you to the best of their ability, but some things would never be the same. There was even a chance that you wouldn’t make it through the night, but Nanami didn’t want to think about that. A life without his reason for living, his reason for working, his reason for joy would be torture. So, for then, you rested.

There were twelve days in between your attack and the moment you opened your eyes. The light flooded in, thin and white. If you were being honest, you thought you died and went to heaven. You reached out, tried to call for someone, but all that escaped your lips was breath. You strained for a faint hum, just a whisper of voice. It hurt. You closed your eyes again.

When you came to more fully, there was a doctor beside you. She had a pad of paper and a pen, eyes soft. “Don’t try to talk right now, ma’am. Your vocal cords took some damage. We’ll put you in all sorts of therapy soon, but for now… we’re trying to focus on your survival.” You nodded. There was only one thing you wanted to write before closing your eyes—you couldn’t even turn your head, for obvious reasons.

I’m sorry.

Nanami nearly rips your very thick hospital room door off its hinges when he hears you’re lucid. His pace, which was never more than a brisk walk, picks up into a dead sprint. There are nurses urging him to walk, lest he knock over a patient, but he doesn’t stop. He needs to see you, to feel you, to run his hands gently over your neck like he’s scared your head will pop off at any moment. He needs to tell you he loves you.

He’s standing at your bedside before anyone can tell him to give you a gentle entrance. You look… unwell. And not just because you were gravely injured.

Your eyes have lost their fire, your hands trembling in their neat little place atop your thin blankets. Your head is secured in a stabilized wrap like it really might pop off. And you don’t even offer him a smile when you see his heaving chest and red face.

You feel like a monster. You can’t see yourself. You can’t bring yourself to look in a mirror, at your phone, anything, but you feel it. Like an old ghost story, one where a murdered woman haunts the ghost-busters until they put her to rest. And you feel like a bad wife; a wife that puts her husband in danger because she can’t even stop to think for a damn second, can’t fight back against people infinitely more powerful. You feel like a failure, like you just broke yourself beyond repair. Every second that goes by, a small, roaring part of you wonders if it would’ve been better for your head to still be in that alley, your body all dressed up for a funeral. It’s irrational, and you know it, but if you were a rational person, you would’ve called your husband before rushing to his “rescue”.

He speaks first (because you can’t). “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve been there sooner.” He sounds like he’s being strangled by invisible hands as tears work their way out of his eyes. In all the years you’ve loved him, you’ve never once seen him cry.

Not ur fault, you write. Were u hurt?

As you push your words towards him, he sniffles. Your body twitches up to wipe his face or caress his cheeks or do anything, but the pain even that gives you is enough to set you back down, defeated. “I wasn’t hurt,” he says, kneeling down. He’s eye level with you now. “The goddamn bastards are dead, and that’s that. I… I didn’t even think before I killed those men. I couldn’t. I was so worried, my love. My heart died seeing you on the floor. There was so much blood. Every bone in my body was screaming for you, to hold you, to prop you back up until your skin fused back together and you stopped hurting, but they would’ve finished the job. They didn’t get the chance to lay a finger on me, but I wish they hadn’t gotten the chance to lay a finger on you, instead.”

His words come out in a ramble, unstoppable, his tone slightly incoherent. He’s mumbling. Your strong, composed husband is mumbling so fast that it makes your head spin. I’m sorry. I was stupid and didn’t think. Could’ve hurt you bad, Ken. They wanted to.

“Stop it,” he cursed. “None of that was your fault. I never should’ve gone on that mission. I thought it would be normal, as in no one would try to kill my dearest love while I was killing curses across the city. You’re beautiful, and you’re alive.”

I love you.

“I love you too. So much. Never forget that.”

I won’t. Promise.

You’re recovering, little by little. Your wheezes have upgraded to whispers, the whispers to gurgles and small words, and eventually, breathy sentences and paragraphs. You’re getting your smile back.

Gojo brought all the nice drinks you could ever want, and when solids were approved, you felt like you were going to gain ten pounds from the amount of sweets he ushered in. He still brings things as often as possible. Shoko comes by frequently with small bouts of healing. “Don’t tell the doctors,” she teases, “but I think you’re recovering spectacularly quickly.”

Even the students visit. Itadori and Fushiguro are so careful around your bed they almost seem scared to breathe, but Kugisaki plops herself down on the edge of it like she’s meant to be there. You’re endlessly grateful.

Your husband, on the other hand, has gotten worse. Inexplicably worse. Emotionally worse.

The guilt, wrapped tightly around his own neck, is killing him slow and somber. Piece by piece, his facade shatters, his compartmentalization breaking like a mirror on a tile floor. He’s sure you’re an angel, and every single thing he does drags him further into the fire. Every tight-lipped smile, every look of painful love. He has almost looked up the formatting of divorce papers twice now, his mind flooding with screams of “wrong, wrong, wrong” every time his fingers hover over the “D” key. He doesn’t want to. He’d never want to live a single day without you in it, without the world reflecting in your eyes like it’s something to be happy about. When he comes home every day, he comes home to hope and the soft comfort of open arms. He doesn’t think he ever deserved it.

He knew, when he got back into jujutsu sorcery, that him not coming home one day was likely. He knew it would hurt you, that you’d water the earth that once held him with tears. He knew that you being in his life would take you down with him, one way or another. He knew, and he continued, and you almost died. He had gotten there in time, but just barely. He realizes, now, that if he can’t quit his line of work, quitting you is best for you. He can’t sit by and watch you die, he just can’t.

He kisses your forehead, never your lips. He holds your hand, but doesn’t run his hands over your fingers like he knows you love. He speaks low and quiet. He’s detached, and you know it.

“Ken, what’s wrong?” He hates this. He hates your voice, all wind and barely any of the sweet hum that made it music to his ears. “Please. Talk to me.”

He’s sitting on the chair in the corner of your room, glasses on, eyes scanning you like he’s picking your stitches apart. “Nothing is wrong, sweetheart. Focus on yourself.”

“I know you. You’re hiding something, and if I find out it’s something bad, I’m taking off my head again.” The hum. Dreadful humor. A twinge of anger. Kento almost cries.

There’s nothing less than loving in the way he stares at you, eyes like anchors in the sea. He stands like he’s afraid of something and trudges over to your bedside, head hung low. He can feel nothing but the empty ache of guilt and the searing heat of love twisting his mind like the writhing of a snake. “I want you to get better first.”

“And I want my husband to act like himself again. You’re the best thing in my life, Ken. You got me through this. Let me help you through what you’re feeling.” Your hand grips his, strong, as though you’re not going anywhere. You flinched with the slightest movement just months ago.

“I don’t want you to hurt anymore. Your attack was my fault. You’re not safe around me, darling, so we need to get a divorce.”

You feel your stomach hurtling down a well, tumbling until it splashes in the cold water at the bottom. “No.”

His brows are drawn together, pinky tapping anxiously on the side of your hand. He hadn’t expected you to agree, but you spoke so quickly and loudly it made him doubt his words. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean we’re not getting a divorce.” You spit, voice hard as broken stone. “I know your job is dangerous. I know I have no place in it. I chose to marry you anyway, Kento, not because I thought I would be free from hurt, but because I love you. When you’re here, I’m the happiest person in the world. You make our home loving, peaceful, everything.”

“I-“

You cut him off. “I’ll learn to fit and adapt and make sure I’m never victim to otherworldly ignorance again. If you left, and I had a normal life, one where no one is ever attacked by curses or machetes or brutal techniques, it wouldn’t be a life at all. I’d always know something is missing, and that something would be you.” You take a staggering breath, and he quickly grabs your water and holds it to your lips.

“Don’t exert yourself, love.”

“I’m not done,” you whisper, after taking a sip. “Your life is not a burden. I know you don’t like hearing this, but I’d take a thousand happy injuries and one happy death with you rather than a miserable one without the love of my life. Without the feeling of your rough palms against mine, your hair tickling my cheek, your body next to me during movie night. I love you more than anything, and I could only ever feel secure with you beside me. You are my safety.”

You hear a shaky sigh from above you. You hadn’t even realized it, but you’re crying into your bandages, and he’s crying into your hair. His hand is still holding the water cup, so you drink the rest from his iron grip.

“I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to,” come his wavering cries. “I’ll keep you safe, I hope. I pray. I swear on my life, my love, I’ll never let you be hurt again.”

You grab his face with an unprecedented grip. He leans down, breath careening over your nose, your chin, your bandages, the warmth filling your lungs. He looks down at you, hesitance present in every little twitch backwards. You don’t hesitate; you press your lips to his, and he adjusts quick as lightning so you don’t have to tilt your head up. “I love you too. I’m glad you’re strong enough to save me, and I’m glad you’re strong enough to believe me when I tell you that leaving me would just kill me faster. That’s more than enough to me.”

Kento laughs, watery and soft. It’s the first happy sound you’ve pulled from his lips in weeks. “Through sickness and in health, hm? Even when I cause the sickness?” You tap him lightly on the chest with a look that says ‘don’t ever say that again’.

“Of course, I said the vows. Oh, and I’m also glad that I just saved our marriage, I think.”

“Just barely, my love, just barely,” he smiles.

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siawritez · 2 days ago

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Hii, anon who asked if u wrote for njz. How would u feel abt g!p Dani fic 🤨 there's literally a shortage for her and it's criminal cuz she's awesome 😼 thanks

Title: Only You Make Me Feel Safe

Pairing: NJZ Danielle (g!p) × fem!reader

Warnings:Graphic smut (oral sex, blowjob),g!p Danielle (no penetration),Shy x shy dynamic,Insecurity, gentle emotional vulnerability,Reassurance, soft aftercare,Lots of fluff, kissing, cuddling,Tender and affirming intimacy

Summary: Danielle’s been avoiding sex for days, quietly struggling with insecurity about her body. You notice—of course you do—but you wait, giving her space, until one night she finally asks the questions she’s been too afraid to say aloud. You don’t just answer her. You show her—sweetly, gently, completely—how much you love every part of her.

─━━━━━━⊱༻༺⊰━━━━━━─

Danielle’s bedroom was quiet—soft jazz humming from her speaker, the kind she always put on when she wasn’t sure what to say. You’d just gotten home from a casual dinner date, the kind filled with cute smiles, shared bites, and your fingers brushing hers under the table. It should’ve ended like the others—kisses that lingered, hands exploring, bodies pressed together until you made each other forget the world.

But this time, Danielle was quiet. Not just soft-spoken, but… avoiding. She curled up beside you on the bed, legs tucked under herself, hoodie sleeves swallowed by her hands. She didn’t reach for you the way she usually did. Her face was flushed in that way that wasn’t from excitement, but from nerves. And though you didn’t want to pressure her, you’d noticed it had been days—longer—since she touched you like that. Since she let you touch her.

You tucked your legs under the blanket beside her, glancing over.

“You okay, baby?”

Danielle glanced up with a tiny smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Mhm. Just tired.”

That was her third “just tired” this week.

You didn’t push. You reached for her hand instead, interlacing fingers. Her skin was warm and clammy, her grip light like she didn’t know if she deserved to hold yours. You squeezed it tighter, thumb brushing her knuckle.

She didn’t speak. Just let out a breath and leaned her head onto your shoulder.

Silence fell again, except for the quiet brushing of her thumb over your palm, the shuffle of blankets, and the low hum of the music.

You glanced at her. Her lips were slightly parted. Her lashes trembled like she was thinking too hard.

“Dani…” you said softly.

She blinked at you, a little startled. “Hm?”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I know.”

But she didn’t.

Not yet.

---

The next night, it was the same. You lay in her bed in an oversized shirt, bare legs curled beside hers, and her touches barely drifted past your hip. She kissed you goodnight with her lips tight, her breathing uneven. And then she turned away.

You knew Danielle. The way she kept everything locked behind her sweet smiles. The way she shrank into herself when she felt unworthy. And though she had never said it out loud, you had a feeling.

It wasn’t you she was avoiding.

It was herself.

---

It finally broke on a Friday night.

You were lying on her bed again, your head resting in her lap as she carded her fingers through your hair. It was peaceful, and her touch had more purpose tonight, like she was trying to gather courage with every stroke.

She was quiet for a long time.

Then, barely louder than a whisper, she said:

“Do you think I’m weird?”

You blinked, sitting up. “What?”

Danielle bit her lip hard, eyes darting away.

“Because of, y’know… me. What I have.”

Her voice cracked near the end, shame thick in her throat.

Your heart broke a little. “Baby…”

She curled into herself, arms wrapping around her knees. “It’s stupid. I know. I just… I haven’t wanted to do anything lately. Because every time, I get scared you’ll change your mind. That you’ll see me and just—” She stopped, breathing shaky. “That you’ll wish I was normal.”

You moved closer, touching her thigh.

“Danielle. Look at me.”

She hesitated, then did.

Her eyes were glassy, wide with vulnerability.

“Nothing about you is weird,” you said, voice firm but soft. “You’re perfect. Everything about you. I love you.”

“But—my cock, it’s…” she trailed off again. “It doesn’t make sense. Girls aren’t supposed to—” Her voice cracked. “I just feel like I’m not enough. Or too much.”

You moved in and cupped her cheek, brushing your thumb along her jaw.

“You’re just right,” you whispered.

She looked at you like she didn’t believe it.

“Do you hate it?” she asked suddenly. “Be honest. Do you hate that I have it?”

“No,” you said, breath caught. “God, Danielle, I don’t. I don’t hate any part of you.”

Another pause.

Her voice was even smaller now. “Are you gonna leave me?”

You nearly cried right then.

Instead, you leaned forward, pressed your lips to hers—tender, slow, deep.

“I would never,” you breathed.

Then you moved down. Pressed another kiss to her jaw. Her collarbone. The top of her chest.

She froze.

“Wait—what are you…”

You pulled the blankets down, revealing the softness of her stomach, the way her hoodie bunched at her hips.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” you said. “All of you.”

She hesitated, breath trembling. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you whispered. “Let me?”

She nodded, barely, her eyes wide.

You kissed your way down, over her stomach, as your hands gently pushed her sweatpants lower. You felt the tension in her thighs, the way she held her breath, afraid.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, meeting her eyes again. “You’re okay.”

When her cock was finally freed, laying against her stomach, flushed and stiff but twitching nervously, you saw the fear flash in her eyes. You moved slowly. Gently. Like she was something precious. Because she was.

You leaned down and kissed the tip—light, reverent.

Danielle whimpered, her hands clutching the sheets.

You kissed it again. Then slowly opened your mouth and took her in.

She gasped—sharp, high-pitched, disbelieving.

“W-wait—oh, baby—”

You didn’t rush. You licked and suckled gently, your hands stroking her thighs, never once looking away from her face. Every time her brows furrowed or her breath hitched, you squeezed her hand, grounding her.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured between kisses. “You’re so perfect, Dani.”

Her head tipped back, chest rising in shudders.

You took her deeper this time, slow and warm and wet, and her hips jolted.

“Ah—fuck, I—” She bit her knuckle, thighs trembling. “No one’s ever…”

You pulled off for a moment, spit slicking your lips. “You deserve this. All of it.”

She moaned again when you went back down, her hand tangling in your hair.

You could feel her relax, slowly, inch by inch, as you worshiped her—suckled her gently, traced your tongue under the shaft, kissed the base. You didn’t just want to make her feel good. You wanted to erase the doubt. You wanted her to know she was loved.

And when you looked up and saw her flushed cheeks, her glassy eyes and parted lips whispering your name—you knew she felt it.

“I’m gonna…” she warned, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, mouth full of her, and let her go.

She came with a trembling cry, one hand fisting the sheets, the other clutching your hand like she was afraid to disappear. Her cock twitched in your mouth, warmth filling you, and you swallowed with a hum.

When she was done, you pulled off and crawled back up, kissing her softly.

She stared at you, stunned, tears shining in her eyes.

“Why… why are you so good to me?”

You cupped her face, kissed her again.

“Because you’re mine,” you said simply. “And I love you.”

She pulled you into her arms like she never wanted to let go.

---

You lay together after, bodies tangled under the covers. Her cock soft now, resting between your stomachs, her cheek buried in your neck.

She kissed your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I got so scared.”

You kissed the top of her head.

“It’s okay. I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes soft.

“You really don’t mind?”

You took her hand and brought it to your chest, where your heart beat fast beneath her fingers.

“Every part of you is precious to me,” you whispered. “Even the parts you’re scared of.”

Danielle’s eyes welled again, but she didn’t cry. She just smiled and kissed you, full of something fragile and deep.

“Stay the night?” she asked softly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

---

Later, she whispered into your hair:

“No one’s ever made me feel safe like this.”

You kissed her collarbone and nuzzled closer.

“That’s because no one else loves you the way I do.”

And in that quiet, with her heartbeat in your ear and her arms around your waist, you felt her finally believe it.

------

#newjeans #njz x fem reader #njz #njz x reader #njz danielle #danielle #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #danielle x fem reader #njz minji #njz imagines #new jeans x reader #new jeans danielle #new jeans danielle x fem reader

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charliegyrth · 2 days ago

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Hey, Chubs! - Part 1 of 2

The Pool Party

Hey, people! Charlie here! I just did the math, and this is officially my 100th story on Tumblr (if I count each chapter as a separate story, which I do)! Feeling very proud of myself right now.

Anyway, hope you like this one.

***

You’re at Sammy’s pool party. You’re the only one in a speedo, so you feel a bit self-conscious. You have a nice bulge, especially for someone so tiny, but you hate how much of your body is on display.

Everyone else here is ripped and tan. You feel like a Q-tip standing next to them.

You’ve always been embarrassingly thin, and guys used to give you crap about it in high school. You’ve overcome those insecurities (or at least you thought you did), but now that you’re surrounded by fitness models like Sammy and his friends, all that teenage anxiety has come back.

You get out of the pool and immediately wrap a towel around your waist to hide how stalk-thin your legs are.

Sammy walks over. “Hey, chubs!” he says. “Looks like you’re finally filling out.” He squeezes your sides, acting like you have love handles.

“Not funny, man,” you tell him. You’re surprised by the cruelty behind Sammy’s words. He’s never talked to you like that before.

“What?” he asks. “I think you look great with a little chub.”

You want to shout at him, but his face looks genuine. He’s being sarcastic, but he doesn’t sound sarcastic.

You sit with the other guys. They’re already eating hot dogs.

“Hey, big guy,” Rudy greets you. “About time you joined us.” He gives you a plate with three hot dogs already loaded up with mustard and ketchup. How could he possibly think that you’d eat so much?

You eat one of the hot dogs while the guys gossip about your friends who aren’t in earshot. When you finish your hot dog, you push the plate away. It doesn’t take a lot to fill you up.

Sammy sits across from you. “What’s wrong, chubs?”

You don’t know what to say.

“Yeah!” Lance chimes in. “Don’t be self-conscious about your appetite. We all know how much it takes to fill up this tank.” He slaps you on your flat stomach, acting like you have a gut.

Like Sammy, he doesn’t sound sarcastic.

“It’s my fault,” Sammy says. “I mentioned that he was filling out, and I think that got him a little self-conscious.” Then he turns to you. “It’s okay, chubs. Every friend group needs a fat guy. Just go for it.”

The others stare at you, waiting for you to keep eating.

This feels really weird. Why is everyone treating you like this? Can’t they see what you look like?

The pressure is too much for you, so you start eating the second hot dog. You already feel full, but it goes down easy.

Everyone watches. They’re all smiling.

“Here, try some of this,” Rudy says as he scoops a massive glob of potato salad on your plate.

This is already more food than you’d eat in a day, but you keep going. You finish the third hot dog and start on the potatoes.

The conversation continues, but you notice everyone glancing at you, just to make sure you keep eating. Somehow, those glances give you the motivation to fight past your fullness. Soon, your plate is empty and your stomach is throbbing.

You’re still confused, but you feel much more comfortable with your friends. You’re not fat, but you kind of like how they treat you like a fat guy.

Someone hands you a beer (you don’t know who) and you start drinking. It tastes great. You never drink beers, but you think you might start. They’re a lot more refreshing than you realize, and the bitterness helps settle your stomach.

You start to head back to the pool, but Sammy stops you. He wants to ask you something.

He gives you a bag of potato chips to go with your second beer. Sammy smiles and says, “You know, I just gotta say… I like this new side of you. And I think you look amazing.”

You reminisce about old times, but some of his memories are strange. He mentions meeting you at college, and working with you on some architecture projects, and going to movies together. You remember all of that. But then he mentions buffets, and wine-tasting, and filming your Chinese food mukbangs at his house.

He has all these memories of you eating, but you honestly have no idea what he’s talking about.

But you don’t correct him. You like hearing him talk. You like the attention he’s giving you.

As you finish the chips, he slides next to you and starts rubbing your thigh. Sammy has never shown any interest in you before, but now he can’t keep his hands off you. And he keeps calling you chubs.

At first, you think the nickname is weird, but the more he says it, the more you like it.

Once the bag of chips is empty, he takes you into his house. You can hear the guys giggling as the two of you leave. They know what you’re going to do.

He takes you into his bedroom and strips off your speedo. Then he steps back and takes a long look at you.

You catch your reflection in the mirror. You’re still stick-thin, but your stomach is rounded from all that food. But that’s not what Sammy sees.

He sees a fat guy. He touches your flat chest as if he’s playing with your moobs. “Damn, chubs. These are coming in nicely.” Then he grabs your bloated stomach and jiggles it even though there’s nothing to jiggle. “How much do you weigh now?”

You’re 130. You’ve always been 130. But you can’t say that. You want Sammy so badly, and you fear that if you say the truth, then whatever spell he’s under will end. “160,” you say.

He scoffs, as if you’ve just lowballed him. “Right, chubs.”

He guides you to his bed and throws you down. Then he strips off his swim trunks.

God, he’s huge. And he’s already rock hard.

He climbs on top of you and gives you the best sex of your life. You don’t object when he digs into his dresser and grabs a donut. Rams it into your mouth as he rams you from behind. You don’t object to the second donut, either. Or the fifth. Or the tenth.

You wanted this. You wanted Sammy to take you, and he is. Over and over.

He worships your body, feeling every inch of you as he claims you for himself. Then, when you’re both finished, he lies next to rub and rubs your stomach.

“You’re the first fat guy I’ve ever been with,” he admits.

You don’t know what to say, so you snuggle against him and fall asleep.

***

The next day, you’re at work when Sammy texts you. “I’d like to see you again.”

Your heart races. “Tonight?”

“Your place. I’ll bring dinner.”

You want to ask your coworkers if you look any different. Does everyone see you as fat now?

You’re too embarrassed to ask, though. And too afraid that if you say the words out loud, this spell will be over and you’ll lose Sammy’s interest.

You go about your day like normal, though you allow yourself to eat an extra slice of your coworker’s birthday cake in the break room. It tastes really good.

That evening, Sammy comes over with a huge bag of take-out from Lascari’s. He greets you with a kiss and then lays all the food on your table.

Your eyes widen. This is enough for at least five people. You don’t plan to overeat, but Sammy keeps complimenting your appetite and watching you with such lust, that you keep going. He barely eats anything while you gorge yourself for him.

Again, he asks you how much you weigh. “And be honest with me this time.”

“180,” you lie.

That still makes him scoff.

You’re painfully full when he takes you to the bedroom. Before he pulls off your clothes, he rubs your aching stomach. You don’t have a gut, but it still feels good. Really good. His hands help relieve the pressure.

And then he takes you. He doesn’t feed you this time. In a way, you’re grateful. You couldn’t possibly fit any more food into your stomach. But at the same time, you miss it.

When you both finish, he wraps you in his arms and whispers, “You’re beautiful, chubs.”

***

You don’t hear from Sammy for a week. You’re constantly thinking about him, but you’re too afraid to call.

In the privacy of your own home, you imagine Sammy’s hands on your body as you jerk off. It feels okay, but there’s something missing. The next time you do it, you use one hand to stuff yourself with donuts.

Okay, now it feels right. You’re full and satisfied.

After a few days, all the snacks in your house are gone and you have to go grocery shopping. You buy more snacks than you could possibly finish on your own. The unhealthiest ones, too. Lots of donuts and cupcakes.

You’re surprised by how fast those are gone. Even when you’re not touching yourself, the snacks still give you a sexual thrill. They remind you of Sammy.

On Saturday, you run into Rudy at the mall. You’re in the food court, eating an extra-large rice bowl from Panda Express. He’s surprised to see you there.

“Hey, man.” (You’re disappointed that he doesn’t call you chubs.) “What’s going on?”

You say that everything’s good. You mention how fun the pool party was.

“Yeah. Fun times.” He looks down at your food. It seems he wants to tell you something, but he stops himself. He just says, “Take care of yourself, man.” Then he hurries off.

You get a weird feeling from that exchange, but whatever.

Then, before you finish all your food, you snap a photo and send it to Sammy. “Eating lunch and thinking of you.”

He responds right away: “Can I come over tonight?”

Read Part 2 here. You can find all my stories here. And check out my gainer ebooks here.

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a99jazzybean · 1 day ago

Text

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 12: More and More

Ch.1/ Ch2./ Ch.3/ Ch.4/ Ch.5/ Ch.6/ Ch.7/ Ch.8/ Ch.9/ Ch.10/ Ch.11

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 5.1K

includes: jayvik, jaycexfem!reader, jayvikxfem!reader, dom!jayce, smut, overstimulation, thigh fucking, fingering, oral, squirting, explicit content

a/n: So much smut, so much. 18+ readers only!

“Mind if I have a turn with you?” Viktor whispered into your ear, hot breath against your neck making you shiver.

Turning your head to face him, you nodded. Sparks of pleasure shooting through you at the thought of Viktor touching you.

“Mmm, good. Why don’t we give Jayce a good show?” He teased, looking down at the man kneeling before you.

Viktor moved you to sit between his legs. A prominent bulge in his pants pressed against your backside. You grinded yourself against him, earning you a hiss of pleasure. One of his hands gripped your waist to keep you in place as he tsked at your teasing.

Long fingers trailed down your body, sending shivers down your spine. When they reached your wetness you gasped. Your clit now overly sensitive. Just a light tap against it had you whimpering.

Below you, Jayce watched, mouth agape. His eyes fixed to Viktor’s fingers playing with your pussy.

Squirming in Viktor’s embrace you softly moaned. It was clear he had remembered exactly what you liked. Nimble fingers stroking over you with the perfect amount of pressure. His actions granting him a louder moan. He plunged two fingers into your heat, making your body arch back.

“So sensitive.” He breathed against you, slowly moving his fingers. “You make the sweetest sounds.”

You cried out as he curled his fingers in you. Echoing your voice was a low groan coming from Jayce. It was as if you and Viktor’s actions had him hypnotized. He couldn’t look away, not that he wanted to.

The way Viktor had you on display made you look ethereal. Jayce would gladly stare at you all day if he could get a glimpse at this view. So pliable and vulnerable, allowing Viktor to use you as he pleased.

In no time it seemed like Viktor was already getting you near the edge again. Whimpering you turned your face into the man’s chest. Your sensitive folds were taking a lot in less than an hour, you had no idea how you would manage to walk after this.

“Let go, darling. I’ve got you.” Viktor’s free hand squeezed your hip, reminding you of his stable presence.

Brain foggy, you followed his command. Letting go and allowing the pleasure of your third orgasm of the day pulse through you. Your thighs were shaking, and uncontrollable moans were tumbling from your lips. Hips thrusted against Viktor’s hand as you chased that high. You drenched his palm as the walls of your pussy squeezed against his fingers. A low groan came from Viktor as he felt you tighten around him. If only it wasn’t his fingers.

“Ah…Viktor.” Your hand reached down to push his away. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” His movements stopped, making you whine.

However, you were truly spent. Having another orgasm would likely take you out of commision fully, and you did not want Jayce to be forced to carry you home.

Wide pleading eyes met Viktor’s lustful gaze. Quickly, you nodded, needing him to stop.

“Very well.” He complied with your unspoken request, bringing his fingers in front of your face.

“Look at that.” He mused to himself before sucking your slick off of his fingers. He groaned with satisfaction. “Just as good as I remembered.” His words made you shiver.

“Glad I meet your expectations.” You hummed with content.

Viktor reached for your cheek, turning your head to face him. Adoration glimmered in those golden irises.

“Darling, you surpassed them.” He pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

Shuffling beneath you returned your attention to the man still kneeling. He gazed up at the two of you expectantly. Puppy-dog eyes glimmering with hope that he too would receive your affections.

“Come here, Jayce.” Viktor motioned for him to rise.

Slowly, Jayce stood up. He stretched up his arms and cracked his back before leaning down to face Viktor. Large palms cupped the man’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. Then Jayce turned to you and provided you with a passionate kiss as well.

“So that’s one more orgasm down.” You chuckled softly as he pulled away.

“Oh no. You’ve still got nine more, sweetheart.” Jayce gave you a cheeky smirk.

“W-what? But I-” Jayce cut you off.

“The bet was for ME to make you cum, not Viktor. He was just being a bit greedy, weren’t you?” Jayce eyed Viktor.

He shrugged.

“I was feeling a bit left out. What can I say?”

Whining in frustration, you shook your head.

“Can’t this one count, please?” You pouted trying to give Jayce puppy-dog eyes of your own.

Chuckling lowly, he planted another kiss on you.

“No can-do, sweetheart. Nine more to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I appreciate it when you wear dresses.” Jayce’s lips were against your neck. “Gives me such easy access.”

This time you found yourself in a storage closet in the physics hall. As TAs you had more access to the building than others, meaning you got keys to areas off-limits to most students. Thus, you found yourself pressed up with the man in the cramped closet. He snagged you away after your morning class, and was now making good on his bet.

Thick warm fingers were pressed into your overly sensitive pussy. Despite the repeated orgasms in the short period, it seemed like your body was eagerly raring to go. Already drenched when the man placed hot sloppy kisses down your throat. Forcing strangled moans to leave your lips. Moans that you desperately tried to cover with a hand clasped over your mouth.

He watched as your face contorted in pleasure while his fingers curled within you. The action had you arching and gasping. It had barely been two minutes since he had started on you, and you were already falling apart in his arms.

Catching his content smirk sent heat straight to your core. Bracing yourself on his shoulders, you allowed yourself to fall into bliss.

“I-I’m close.” You breathed out harshly, feeling the knot in your belly grow tighter.

“Cum for me.” He pressed his lips to yours, capturing your moans as the wave of pleasure hit you.

He held you as your legs shook, lips still pressed to yours. Swallowing every sound you made, and memorizing them.

“You sound so pretty like this.” He whispered against your mouth.

All you could respond with was a whimper.

The man helped you straighten yourself out after you came back down. Warm hands smoothing down your hair and wrinkled up shirt. There was no getting rid of the ruddiness on your cheeks though, but he didn’t mind. He loved seeing you like this.

Looking down, you noticed the prominent bulge in the man’s pants. Biting your lip, guilt filled you. With the rush of pleasure you had been receiving, you had forgotten that Jayce had been left without release.

Placing a hand on his chest, you softly dragged it down. His eyes widened, then softened before stopping your hand with his own.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” That had his eyes widening again. “You’ve been giving this entire time, and haven’t gotten anything in return.”

“That’s not necessarily true…” He trailed, remembering his night with Viktor.

“What do you mean?”

“Viktor might have helped me.”

“I see.” Ah, so that’s how the other man got involved. “Regardless, I would like to help you. It’s only fair.”

“I don’t see this as a quid pro quo situation.”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” You were taken aback at his resistance, and a bit hurt by it.

Jayce noticed the brief flash of disappointment in your eyes, realizing you were seeing this as a rejection. He grabbed your hand again, holding it to his chest.

“I want you to, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Jayce, I just told you I wanted to.”

“Right.” He swallowed thickly.

This is happening, THIS is happening! Jayce’s heart sped up at the thought. He had been waiting for this moment for a while. Though he imagined it in less tight of a space, it didn’t make his excitement waver.

“So, can I? Help you, I mean.”

He nodded fast.

With his consent, you trailed your hand down his torso till you reached his belt. This part was the hardest. After a failed attempt at taking it off smoothly, you huffed out a laugh of amused frustration then used both hands instead. The man chuckled at your struggle.

Looking back up, you slotted your lips with his. A heated kiss that left his head dizzy when you pulled away.

Slowly, you kneeled in front of him. Watching his face as you began to pull his pants down. Teasingly, you pressed hot kisses up his bulging length through the fabric of his boxers. Your kisses eliciting a whimper from the man. You pulled down his boxers, releasing his hard cock. It had been awhile since you had seen it, and you had forgotten how large he was.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you glanced up at the man again. Hazel eyes sparkled with anticipation, the man licking his own lips as he watched you move toward him. Heat from your breath against his length had him shivering. He clenched his hands, doing his best not to just reach for your head.

Using your tongue, you teased from the base of his cock to the head. You kept eye contact with him, smirking as you watched his breathing became labored.

“Please don’t,” he gasped out, “don’t tease.” His eyes pleaded with you.

So be it. You took him fully into your mouth, making him moan loudly. He had to clasp a hand over his mouth. Fuck you felt good around him. So wet and warm, with your tongue trailing along as you bobbed your head.

A warm hand curled into your hair. Not so much to control the pace, but to use it as something to ground him in the moment. Oh, there was no way he could ever go back to using his hand. Not with the way you were using your mouth on him.

Humming with content, you quickened your pace. Jayce gasped again as you sped up. Balls tightening as he felt his release nearing faster than expected. Though he shouldn’t be surprised, he had been waiting for this for so long. It only made sense that you would easily make him finish. Especially with the way that your mouth was playing with him.

Your hands joined in, cupping and caressing his balls. Muffled moans spilled out of the man, his hips slightly moving to meet your motions. He was so close, so fucking close.

Without warning, his hips stuttered. The warm saltiness of his cum hit your tongue unexpectedly. Thankfully, his taste was fairly pleasant. You made a bit of a show of swallowing, humming with satisfaction. Shuddering above you, Jayce still had a hand over his mouth. You could hear small whimpers leaving him. You gave a kiss to his now softening cock, then rose up.

Your knees ached a little, but it was worth it seeing how fucked out the man looked. His cheeks bright red, breathing labored, and eyelids drooped low. Truly, your mouth did quite the number on him.

“Eight more, right?” You murmured against his lips.

“Eight more.” He kissed you softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Could you two clean the board before you leave? I have a meeting I need to get to shortly.” Heimerdinger asked as he packed up after class.

“Of course, Professor.” You nodded with a sweet smile, waving him off for the day.

As the door shut, you turned to clean the board. As you began swiping off the chalk with the eraser, you felt a large presence looming behind you. Warm hands landed on your waist making your breath hitch.

“Jayce…?” You craned your neck to look at him.

His eyes were dark, hungry. Looking down at you he licked his lips. He was plotting.

“Can I try something?” He asked.

The room was empty, but the door was unlocked. You and Jayce did not have access to lock it, meaning anyone could come in if they so choose. Gulping, you shook your head side to side.

“C’mon, the next class in here isn’t for another-” he glanced at the nearest clock, “twenty minutes.” He gave you pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Huffing out, you contemplated his request. His fingers now tracing circles on your hips. His body pressing closer, heat radiating off of him. Shivering, you looked back at him. He waited for your response expectantly.

“We can try… but what do you want to do?”

You swear the man had a wagging tail with how quickly he brightened at your words. He pressed you up against the wall, then trailed a hand down your backside. Slowly he lifted up your skirt, whistling lowly as he looked at the panties you were wearing. A simple black pair with a lacy trim.

“Mind if I pull these down?”

“Okay…” You braced yourself on the wall, looking over your shoulder at him. “But you still haven’t told me what you want to do?”

Sliding down your panties, he hummed to himself. When he pulled them away from your core, your slick stuck to them. The sight made the man’s pants tighten.

“Fuck, you don’t even know what I want to do. Yet, you’re so fucking wet.” He practically growled at the sight of your sopping core.

“Jayce…” You warned through your teeth.

He swiped his fingers between your folds, making you jump. Clasping your hand on your mouth, you gave the man an over-the-shoulder glare.

Looking into your eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth. Through your hand you moaned at the sight, remembering how his mouth felt on you.

His hands returned to your hips, pressing you against the board again. Leaning down, his hot breath hit your neck. You shivered as he told you what he wished for.

“I want to fuck your thighs.” He ground the bulge in his pants against your ass.

The action combined with his statement had you dripping with anticipation. This would be the furthest you had gone with each other. There was nothing that would be stopping him from just fucking you, but that was the fun of it. Knowing he could, but he wouldn’t. Only teasing you with the thought of his cock fucking you. Using your body, but not in the way that you truly wished for.

Zipping from behind you indicated the man was preparing himself to begin. He pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Squeeze your thighs together.” He commanded lowly.

The heat of his cock pushed through the plush of your thighs. He slid just between your pussy lips. The thick head of his cock bumping against your clit, making you jolt and moan.

Oh, he was planning on making you cum like this.

He groaned as your thighs flexed tighter around him. Picturing himself fucking into your heat with each press and pull. Through your dripping folds, his hard length continued to stroke your swollen bud. Your slick coated his cock.

By now you were having a tough time staying quiet. Knuckles going white on the hand clenched over your mouth as Jayce’s thick dick was bringing you to your peak. Your oversensitive body could only handle so much, and it was becoming easier to bring you to completion quickly.

“J-jayce…” Your hand dropped, leaving you whimpering.

“I know.” He groaned as he continued to pump himself between your thighs. “Go on, cum for me again.” His hot lips pressed against the sweet spot on your neck.

Before you could cry out, Jayce placed his hand over your mouth to quiet you. The intensity of your orgasm had your thighs clenching and shaking around his length. As you squeezed around him, he reached his own peak. Hot spurts of cum splattering over your thighs as he groaned in ecstasy.

Turning around, you grabbed Jayce’s shirt. Pulling him in for a heated, wet kiss. Your tongue searching for his desperately. He grabbed you as well, and groaned at your taste.

Pulling back, you looked into his eyes. Eyelids drooping, as his face was fucked out.

“So, you like my thighs?” You giggled lightly.

His hands reached for the muscle, cringing at the amount of cum that had manage to spill on them. Though he had to admit, seeing you like this was hot. After taking a mental image, he grabbed some nearby tissues to clean you up.

When he was done, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Just seven more to go, sweetheart.”

Groaning you bat at his chest, unsure you could go on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“D-don’t stop!” You cried out.

Between your thighs, Jayce hummed with content. Clearly, he wasn’t planning on ending his ministrations any time soon. Trailing thick, hot laps of his tongue over your soaking folds. Soaking in the way your thighs quivered around him. Memorizing every sweet whimper leaving your lips.

This whole bet had made him a very proud man. Every time he had begun, he had managed to make you cum. He wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

After your office hours, Jayce pinned you against the table. Begging to have another taste of you. Of course, you obliged in his request. Now finding yourself edging closer to climax once more. How the man continued to have stamina to please you like this, you had no idea. Though, you weren’t one to complain.

However, this whole ordeal had affected you physically. The smallest of touches had you shivering. Jayce could never keep his paws off of you, especially now. Watching you shake as he lightly touched you had him feeling giddy inside. A wide smile plastered on his face as he managed to make you moan by placing a soft kiss to your cheek. You weren’t even halfway there yet, but already oh so overstimulated. Your poor pussy was going to need a loooong break in order to recover from Jayce’s onslaught of orgasms.

Without warning, the tightening knot within you snapped. Thighs clenched tightly around Jayce’s head as your release gushed onto the man's face. Thrusting your hips against his tongue, you chased the high. Eyes rolled back, you had no care in the world. Loud moans escaping your throat as your orgasm continued.

Finally, your hold on the man’s head released. Shaking thighs softening and falling onto the table under you with a thud. Jayce rose from his spot on the floor, drinking in your shivering form. God, he could get used to this. By now, he was. He could always use more of you though.

“You should come over to my place tomorrow.” He said after helping you get dressed.

“Will Viktor be joining us again?” You raised a brow, you wouldn’t put it against him. Not that you’d mind the extra attention.

Jayce shook his head with a pout, obviously disappointed his partner would be gone.

“Sadly, no. He’s got special physical therapy back home. So he’s getting a train back and spending the weekend.”

“Oh, well I should be free.”

“Good. Cause we're finishing the bet.”

Eyes widening, you shook your head in disbelief. Still extremely sensitive from cumming earlier.

“All of it?” You squeaked.

“All of it.” He chuckled darkly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuffling uncomfortably, you contemplated turning around. Calling off the bet and returning home sounded somewhat pleasant. However, that would be admitting defeat. Something you could never do.

Stealing your resolve, you straightened out. With a shaky hand you knocked on the apartment door before you.

It appeared that Jayce had been waiting for you. He responded immediately. The lock unlatching and door swinging open quickly. You were met with the man’s classic grin, and you couldn’t help but return your own.

“Welcome!” He said, opening his arm to let you inside.

Gazing around, you walked into the apartment. It was fairly plain, though you didn’t expect too much from the men. They seemed like the type that preferred function over form. In the living room sat an L-shaped sofa with random throw pillows tucked in the corners. Beside it sat a stack of blankets, something you assumed was more for Viktor than Jayce the human space heater.

Slipping off your shoes, you continued to scan the space. Jayce had hung up a few picture frames. One featuring him and his mother when he was younger, another with Viktor after they won a science contest earlier in their undergraduate. The sight sent a sour taste to your mouth, but you choked it back down.

Now is not the time to return to those thoughts. You admonished yourself.

On a different wall you spotted a picture with Jayce, Mel, Viktor, and… you? Walking closer, you tried to remember when it could have been taken. Based on your outfit, it was likely your sophomore year when you decided to experiment with your personal style. At that point you had already grown to resent Jayce though, how did you end up with him? In the picture, Jayce’s arm was looped around Mel’s center, Viktor had his arm around your shoulders. What confused you was the fact that you were smiling. You couldn’t recall any event that Jayce had attended with you where you were happy. In the photo you were genuinely smiling.

Jayce watched as you looked over the photo. Wondering what had your brow furrowing in thought.

Turning to him, you asked, “When was this taken?”

“Sophomore year, I think.”

“No I mean, like what event was this?”

That had taken him aback. It was one of the very few times he had been able to be near you and talk with you. An event he cherished. While he really couldn’t hold it against you, the fact that you had forgotten stung.

“It was after the Distinguished Innovators Competition. You, me, and Viktor managed to place in it.”

Now you remembered. The reason for your smile was that you had just received a major scholarship that put you through the rest of school. Jayce wasn’t the reason why you had forgotten the event. It was how your father had responded.

“Third place?” He huffed in irritation, plucking the white ribbon from your hands in disgust.

“But I placed!” You tried to keep a smile on your face, afraid of your quivering lips giving away.

“Not high enough.” He shook his head. “Your brother always got first.”

“But I got the scholarship money, that’s what matters.”

He sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Sweetheart, your brother got his job from the connections he made here. No one is going to go for the girl in third place.” He pointed over to where Jayce and Viktor stood. They were speaking with an older gentleman enthusiastically. “See! And who’s over here speaking with you?”

“Nobody.”

“Correct. Do better next time.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I love you.”

Back in Jayce’s apartment you felt tears prick at your eyes at the memory. Shit, this was not how you wanted the night to go.

Concerned, Jayce sidled up to you. His fingers interlaced with yours, giving your hand a soft squeeze. The action returning you fully to the present. Grimacing, you shook your head.

“Is everything okay?” Jayce asked, worry in his voice.

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I just remembered something,” you paused for a breath, “unpleasant.”

Giving your hand another squeeze he hoped to bring you some comfort.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to just forget about it.”

Biting his lip, Jayce contemplated pressing you further. Instead he went against that, not wanting to make you feel worse. For now, he could help you forget.

“I could think of an activity that could help with that.” He said suggestively, eyes hooded.

The mood suddenly shifted, your body remembering why you had come to the apartment in the first place. Was it healthy to distract yourself from painful memories? Probably not, but it certainly was enticing. Why not indulge and forget?

So you did, grabbing Jayce’s shirt collar. His eyes widened in surprise at your abrupt action. You pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. However, tonight you were not in control. With strong hands, Jayce gripped your face. Pulling away, as you chased his lips with a whine.

“Why don’t we go to my room?” He crooned.

Nodding, you had the man lead the way. As you made your way down the hall behind him, you wrung your hands nervously. You had almost forgotten the full extent of the bet.

Six more times…

Thighs already shaking at the thought. The number was intimidating. At least the other orgasms were somewhat spread out during the week. Tonight the man planned to see how much you could take, and even if you couldn’t take it, you knew you would force yourself to.

Before entering his room, Jayce paused. Turning to you with a serious expression, he grabbed your hands.

“This might get intense.” He said.

“As if it hasn’t already?” You questioned.

“True…” He paused in thought. “But I want to make sure that we’re going about this safely.”

“Okay?”

“You know the stoplight system?” Nodding you recalled that Viktor had introduced it to you, due to his more extreme proclivities.

“Good. If it’s too much, what do you say?”

“Red.”

“Good.”

You didn’t have time to take in his space as Jayce pressed you onto his bed. His large frame caged you in. Gazing up, you took in the look of adoration in his honeyed eyes. Heart fluttering as you gasped. He pressed his lips down onto yours, groaning as your hands moved up to curl into his hair. His hands trailed along your body, teasing at the hem of your shirt. Shuffling from beneath him, you aided as he pulled the article off of you. Soon you were left only in your panties.

Deep red bloomed on your face as you realized you had never actually been naked in front of Jayce before. Every time the two of you were at least partially clothed. The new position had you feeling significantly more self conscious, and vulnerable. This would be a form of intimacy you hadn’t experienced for quite some time.

He took no time removing the final piece of clothing, groaning at the sight of your naked form. Eyes raking over every inch of your body. Leaning down, he pressed hot kisses down your throat. A soft sigh escaping you at the tender action.

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed against you, then sucked at your sweet spot.

Your body arched up into him, hard nipples brushing against his chest.

He pulled his shirt off, revealing his very toned body. Now it was your turn to admire the man. Your hand reached up to trace down his torso. As you reached his pants, you cupped the growing bulge beneath the fabric. Squeezing, you smirked as he moaned.

“Fuck.” He gasped.

His hand reached for yours, making you stop.

“You keep that up and I’ll come in my pants.”

“Is that a promise?” You teased with a smirk.

“Ha, nice try. You’re mine tonight, sweetheart.”

“Yours?”

“Mine.” The way he said it had your thighs clenching.

Keeping his pants on, he kneeled at the edge of the bed. Looping his arms around your thighs, he pulled you to the edge. Spreading your legs he got a good look at your sopping pussy. Glistening and ready for him to taste. And taste he did.

He forced you to his lips, making you cry out. Your abused pussy so sensitive after a week of orgasms. He ate you out like a starved man, as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste. Which was the case. Groaning, he sucked and lapped at you. Drinking in as much of you as he could, begging internally that you would give him more and more.

With the addition of his fingers you were done for. Thick digits curled inside you, hitting that spongy spot that had your head reeling. Closer, and closer, and closer. Your climax was building up. The pumping of his fingers mixed with the flicking of his tongue on your clit had your whole body spasming. He was going to make you cum again, and he wasn’t going to stop. A sharp lick to your clit had you writhing and moaning. A mess on the man’s bed as you came on his face. However, he wasn’t done with you. His mouth continued moving, making you sob with overstimulation.

Five more…

It seemed like such a small number, but still way too much for your body to handle. As his mouth brought you to another climax, you didn’t know if you could last.

“J-jayce… its.” You cried out. “It’s too much.”

Groaning with frustration, he pulled back. Lips smacking as his tongue licked off your slick from his face.

“You can take it. Four more.” His hazel eyes were dark.

He gave you no time to recover, returning to lapping at your folds. The man found he enjoyed sucking at your clit, loving the way your pussy would gush.

His eyes stayed open, watching your quivering body as he licked you to completion. Sweat glistened on your skin and your breathing had become hard. Your breasts jiggling with each harsh breath. Back arching, you pushed against the man’s mouth. Another climax blooming in your center. Ready to snap at a moment's notice.

This time you screamed. Seeing white as your release sprayed on his face once more.

Three more..

Again, he did not give you a break. Instead, flipping you around. He pressed his bare chest against your back. Thick fingers trailed down your stomach till they reached the sticky mess between your thighs. He plunged his fingers back into your soft pussy. Holding you against him, he ground his clothed bulge against your ass. Your pussy tightened around his fingers with his thrust against you.

“Too much!” You squeaked out.

“No.” Jayce growled in your ear, teeth nipping at your neck. “You’ll take it.”

His fingers curled in you while his thumb traced circles around your clit. Your hips jolted with each thrust. Ass pressing against his bulge making the man moan.

“C’mon, cum for me again. Please.” He begged, hot breath against your throat.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Pussy clenching around his fingers, the tightness made him groan.

“Jayce!” You screamed, not caring if any of his neighbors heard.

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned.

He pushed you down onto your stomach. From behind you heard him remove his belt and unzip his pants. Pulling out his cock, he pressed it against your heat. Your eyes widened as you gasped.

Was he going to-

No. Slipping between your legs, Jayce squeezed your thighs around his length. Leaning over you, he pressed you deeper into the mattress. Chuckling lowly, he nipped at your earlobe. Loving the way you were shivering beneath him.

“Did you think I was going to fuck you?” He pushed between your thighs, the head of his cock catching your sensitive clit.

“N-no…” You lied.

Tutting, he pushed against you at an agonizingly slow pace. Slick coating his thick cock as he pressed against your puffy folds.

“Liar. I heard you.”

“I…” You moaned as he pressed harder against your clit. “I didn’t think you were.” You lied again.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He didn’t know where this part of him was coming from, but boy did he love the way you were responding to it.

“No, not-” You clamped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late.

“Not what? Not yet?” He quickened his pace, making you cry out with each bump against your swollen nub. “You do want me to fuck you then? Just not now is it?”

“J-jayce please…” You cried out.

“Please what?”

“Stop teasing.” You could feel tears of oversensitivity prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I don’t think I will. After all, I’m finally getting what I want.” While you were hiding away, Jayce was fully baring himself to you at this point. Honesty spilling out as waves of pleasure hit him. Fucking away at your thighs, making sure he hit your clit with every stroke.

One particularly hard slide had you crying out loudly. He groaned as he felt more slick pool out of you onto his cock.

“Just one more, sweetheart. Think you can handle that?” He moaned, feeling himself getting close.

He couldn’t cum yet. Not until you fell apart as he fucked your thighs. Showing you how easy it is to make you come undone. He didn’t even need to fuck you to have you in pure bliss.

“N-no, I can’t do it.” You squirmed in his hold.

His grip on you tightened, you weren’t getting out of this that easily.

“Yes you can, I need you to.”

You didn’t respond, only whimpered and moaned as his cock continued to abuse the outside of your pussy. Each push against your clit had you jolting and crying out.

With the way you were shaking in his arms, he knew you were close. The final orgasm, he better make it a good one.

His thrusts grew faster, rubbing perfectly against your sensitive clit. Each movement had you sobbing and shaking. Hot tears slid down your face as he continued to fuck your thighs.

“Mine.” He growled.

With each push against you, his cock threatened to burst, but he would hold back. All he needed-

Hot cum spurted out of him in thick ropes as your thighs clenched. Your scream of pleasure muffled with your face pressed into the bed. You had squirted for the last time, coating the man’s cock in your release. He moaned with you, cock twitching between your thighs. Your pussy pulsing against his length after the continual abuse of your sensitive parts.

After a moment, you managed to catch your breaths. Jayce slid out from between your legs, helping you lay on your back. A sheen of sweat coated your shivering body. Aftershocks from your orgasms made your thighs shake. Little moans still escaping your lips.

As you laid in the messed up sheets, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing.

You wanted to fuck Jayce Talis, desperately.

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