#I was having strong Cross feels when I started writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sev-on-kamino · 11 months

Note

Hello friend! I couldn't find any rules for requests on your blog, so hopefully this one's okay, and if not feel free to ignore it!

Would you be okay with doing a little something based on the idea that all five of the bad batch boys realize that they're all in love with their medic reader? Like maybe they all just KNOW that their other brothers feel the same way about the reader and what they do about it? Do they all talk it over in private? do they just silently start trying to one up each other as a secret competition for her heart? Do they maybe go to the reader themselves instead? Or maybe they decide sharing is caring?? I'd love to hear your take on this concept, headcanons or a fic or whatever you're inspired to do with this idea it's all fine by me!

Please and thank you and also I hope you have a good weekend 💗

I have had the BEST time with this ask, and I hope you love it. This is deffo one I could write about from different angles all day long. I love the boys, but they provide more inspiration than I know what to do with, so this is only part 1 😬 if you had something else in mind, don’t hesitate to let me know. you know I’m always down to write about the boys 🥰

The Bad Batch x afab!Reader

warnings: mention of injury, nothing graphic, poly no clonc*st, Crosshair pining 👀

Part 2

word count: 3721 (*self control left the chat*)

The Havoc Marauder was never quiet, and now was no exception. Wrecker’s snores, Tech’s tinkering, Echo’s quiet muttering in his sleep, the barely audible sounds of Hunter fiddling with his knife. But there was a hole of silence in the quilt of sound, and it was shaped like you. It’s been 15 rotations, not that Crosshair’s counting, without your laugh ringing out, without your back popping loudly as you stretched when you woke up, without your voice whispering his name, as you sleepily let him know it was his turn on watch.

The five of them had been together, and they’d never needed or wanted anyone else in their space, on their team. Crosshair hadn’t even wanted you around at first. Wrecker had warmed to you quickly, but of course a pretty thing like you would never need the hard sell with Wrecker. Hunter had been wary of you, but in an effort to keep Wrecker from getting too attached, he’d inadvertently formed his own attachment to your presence. As for Tech and Echo, they’d kept their distance well enough, but your quiet intelligence, and curiosity had drawn them in.

Crosshair had been the holdout. Incensed by every breath you drew in his presence. The way you checked in with him after every mission, as if he needed you poking and prodding him. But when he needed stitches, you’d asked for permission to help him. If he didn’t want you to touch him, you wouldn’t.

“I’d never do anything without your consent. You’re in control here,” you’d said, holding your kit in steady hands, as you waited for his decision. He’d watched you with rapt attention through the mirror, your fingers resting gently against his skin, as you carefully cleaned, stitched up, and bandaged the wound on his shoulder.

After that, he would silently request your assistance when he needed it, and over time even when he didn’t need it. He would never say it out loud, but bacta patches placed by your gentle hands worked better. Your stitches were nearly painless. And the way you’d hum while you worked…well, that was just adorable.

When Commander Cody had requested you for a short stint, Wrecker had grumbled endlessly, and Crosshair had been the first to tell him to suck it up because you’d be back in their hair soon enough. He needed the space to clear his head, and he hoped the others would come to their senses without you in their presence.

Wrecker admitted to missing you within 12 hours. Tech kept finding excuses to talk about you. Meanwhile Hunter and Echo kept pointing out things you would like, and setting them aside for you. They had also placed bets on when Crosshair would snap and march onto the Negotiator to steal you back. Not that they would be upset if he did.

When it became clear that Crosshair would rather eat his armor than admit to being the least bit interested in you, the four of them had dragged him into the cockpit to decide what they would do when you returned. The feelings were there, and they weren’t going anywhere, but how to proceed.

“We should just come out and say it!” Wrecker said, feeling like the matter was concluded.

“It needs to be a tad more romantic than that,” Echo said shaking his head.

“According to my observations of her, she would appreciate a romantic gesture,” Tech said.

“Flowers?” Wrecker offered.

“She deserves more than flowers for putting up with us,” Echo said laughing.

“We could make a stop on her home world. It’s not too far out of the way,” Hunter added. “I think she’d like that.”

“This is a waste of time,” Crosshair said rolling his eyes. “You’re fooling yourselves.”

“When have Hunter’s senses ever been wrong?” Tech asked not even bothering to look up. “According to what he’s told me, she’s at the very least physically attracted to us. Based on her behavior that extends to an emotional bond as well.”

“What happened to not getting attached?” Crosshair challenged, and his brothers all looked at each other before looking back at him.

“You know you’re not as subtle as you think, Crosshair,” Echo said.

“And if I can tell how anyone’s feeling, it’s the four of you,” Hunter added.

“You’re all delusional,” Crosshair said shaking his head.

“You had her put a bacta patch on your arm last mission, and you coulda done it yourself,” Wrecker said giving the sniper a playful shove.

“She is our medic, she should at least pretend to do a job around here,” Crosshair said defensively. It was a losing battle, and he knew it. The others were blissfully under your spell, but he was not about to let you hurt him. Not about to let you reject him. No matter how badly he wanted you.

But as the clock rolled into the 16th rotation without you, it was Crosshair who hated your absence more than anyone. The others were open about it in their own ways, but he held it close. It was one of the few secrets he’d kept from his brothers. The realization annoyed him, as he swung his long legs over the side of his bunk to take over on watch for Hunter.

Sensing the tension rolling off of his younger brother, Hunter cleared his throat.

“She’ll be back in 2 rotations, and you’ll get to sleep longer again.” He knew it wasn’t sleep Crosshair was after, but it was the best way to let him know you were on your way back without suggesting the sniper actually missed you lest they wind up in another argument.

“Oh good, the little doctor will be back to baby Wrecker again, and you can all confess your love, and live happily ever after,” Crosshair sneered, but Hunter knew him well. There was no bite in his tone, and his face was more relaxed than Hunter had seen it since you waved goodbye and disappeared into the Negotiator.

“She just commed to see if we could pick her up before our next mission, and I almost said no,” Hunter said absently, as Crosshair dropped into the co-pilot’s seat. It wasn’t true, but he could hear Crosshair’s heart racing, his teeth grinding in frustration.

“I thought you were dying to have her back,” Crosshair bit out.

“Well, Cody’s really wanting to keep her, and it would be a great opportunity for her,” This part was true, but he knew he shouldn’t tease his brother this way even though he was sure whatever doubt your absence hadn’t wiped out, would be obliterated by jealousy.

“Commander Cody has a squad of medics. He doesn’t need her,” Crosshair replied, scoffing. The thought of Cody trying to tempt you away from them with a Star Destroyer and a Jedi annoyed Crosshair down to his bones. You wouldn’t be swayed by a big ship, and fancy toys. Would you?

“You’ve got a point,” Hunter began before putting the last nail in the coffin. “He doesn’t need her…maybe he just wants her.”

He could hear Crosshair’s heart thumping wildly, as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Doubt it,” Crosshair grumbled after several moments spent working to unclench his jaw.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Hunter said, rising from the pilot’s chair. “The call’s recorded, so you can watch it, and see for yourself.”

“I’m sure she’ll never shut up about it when she’s back,” Crosshair said dismissively.

Humming softly with a shrug, Hunter said good night, and left Crosshair alone. The sharpshooter waited until he was sure Hunter was asleep before playing your conversation.

As your form appeared, bathed in blue, a smile tugged at Crosshair’s lips. Had you always been this beautiful?

“Hi, Sarge! It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you boys like crazy,” you nearly moaned.

He’d never heard you make a sound like that. He immediately thought of you making that sound just for him, which annoyed him, but he couldn’t stop listening.

“We miss you too, cyar’ika. I’m sure you’re having fun though,” Hunter replied.

“It’s been nice to stretch my legs a bit and put some of the things I’ve learned to use. Commander Cody’s amazing…he’s uh, asked me if I want to stay on,” You look shy, nervous.

“Oh, is that uh, something you’re interested in?”

“Don’t get me wrong the Negotiator is spectacular, and I’ve enjoyed my time with the 212th,” you bite your lip, shifting your weight. You seem unsure if you should continue. After a moment, you pressed on, “but they’re missing a few things I can’t live without, so I’d like to come home, back to the Marauder I mean.”

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Hunter replied.

“Good,” You look so relieved. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you boys since I left. Are you getting enough quiet time? Are Tech and Echo sleeping? Is Wreck staying out of trouble? Is Cross eating properly?”

Crosshair barely hears the rest of conversation because he can’t get past the part where you miss them, where you were worried about him.

“I’ll be all packed up and ready to go in two rotations. Do you mind coming to get me?” Your needy tone shakes Crosshair out of his thoughts. “I could get a shuttle, but it would take another rotation or two, and I don’t think I can wait that long.”

Crosshair realized he couldn’t either. He needed you back immediately. Sooner, really.

“Of course, doll,” Hunter says soothingly. “Two rotations, and we’ll be there.”

Reassured, your shoulders relax, “Wonderful! I can’t wait to see all of you! I’m sure Crosshair has enjoyed the break from me, but I’ve missed him so much. I miss all of you, Hunter.” Your voice is so tender, it makes his heart clench.

He had not enjoyed the break at all though. Between his brothers giving him a hard time, and wanting you back, he was miserable.

Two rotations. It wouldn’t be long now.

***

Crosshair’s leg was bouncing, as the Marauder docked with the Negotiator. You were so close, almost home.

The five of them boarded the Star Destroyer, and Crosshair’s eyes began searching for you immediately. Cody was there to greet them, grasping Hunter’s arm in welcome.

“Good to see you, Commander,” Hunter said warmly.

“Good to see you too, Sergeant,” Cody began, “I’m not going to lie, I tried to keep your medic. She’s brilliant, and the men adore her.”

“Of course they do,” Wrecker’s pride in you is evident.

“She said the Negotiator was missing a few necessities,” Cody quirked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“She’s quite mistaken. The Havoc Marauder is not equipped with even 10% of what a Republic Venator has,” Tech says, brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t have Gonky,” Wrecker said as though it were obvious.

“It doesn’t have the five of you either!” you quipped, appearing at Cody’s elbow.

“Cyar’ika!” Wrecker bellowed, scooping you up and spinning you around.

“Wrecker!” you squealed as you returned his hug as tightly as you could

Crosshair’s heart was pounding again. He waited at the back of the group, watching his brothers welcome you back. Pressing their foreheads to yours, ghosting their fingers over your jaw, holding the back of your head gently. Then you were standing in front of him. Arms clasped behind your back, not reaching for him as you had the others. Respecting his space as always.

“I’m happy to see you too, Cross. Ready to deal with me every day again?”

“Are you ready to deal with me? All of us, again?”

“Ready and looking forward to it!” Your smile is bright and he nearly reached for you then, but he stopped himself.

“Well, Commander, you know where to find us, if you need us…or our medic again,” Hunter said with a grin.

“It was an honor serving alongside the 212th, Commander. I appreciate the opportunity,” You saluted Cody, and the others followed suit.

“The pleasure was all ours,” Cody returned the salute, and watched as the six of you returned to the Marauder.

***

You’re getting settled back into your space on the Marauder, answering questions from Wrecker, curious about the armory and ordnance, and Tech pestering you for every detail about the Negotiator, as Echo and Hunter wait to get a word in edgewise.

“Come on, boys. Give her some breathing room,” Hunter says, scooting them towards the cockpit, ignoring their protests.

“It’s good to have you back, saraad,” Echo said with a soft smile, that made your heart skip a beat.

You smile fondly at them as they go, going back to unpacking your things, and changing.

Crosshair is in his bunk, pretending he’s not watching you, but he can’t focus on anything else. Every inch of skin you reveal is making his body react. His heart thumping, breath growing shallow, as he drinks you in. This isn’t even the first time he’s seen you naked or changing, but it feels different now. He frowns as he notices a bandage on your hip peaking out of your panties, wrapping around your hip. It’s covered swiftly by the bottom half of a fresh set of blacks.

He slid out of his bunk, and you turned to face him, as you pulled the top half down covering your stomach, hiding your skin from his gaze. Naturally, you stepped back to give him space, and you were pleasantly surprised when he deliberately stepped closer. You looked up at him expectantly, eyes searching his for any hint of what he’s up to.

Crosshair was sure he should say something, but his mind was only offering sardonic quips that would convey the truth, but not like he wanted. He lifted a hand, and tapped your hip softly, fingertips resting against you. This was the first time Crosshair had ever touched you without necessity. Your heart sped up, and you swallowed hard.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice low and even.

“Rooftop sniper,” you shook your head, folding your arms. “One of the other medics wasn’t as lucky. He was still in the med bay when you came to pick me up. No one could have clocked him to be fair.”

“I could have,” Crosshair said, anger simmering under his even tone.

“Well, there’s only one Crosshair in the galaxy. Next time I leave, I’ll take you with me.” You smiled up at him, but his face held the frown.

“Hey, I’m ok. Still good to do my job,” you added, brow furrowing.

“Fucking regs,” He swore, as he shifted his hand to hold your hip gently like you were a fragile thing. A fragile thing that belonged to him.

You hesitated before resting your hand against his chest, tapping your fingertips against the plastoid.

“Cross, I’m home, and in one piece. How can I show you?”

An eyebrow raised at that, sharp eyes taking you in, lingering on your lips, as they parted, a silent invitation for him. He leaned down, bringing his lips close to yours, begging you to close the distance. You wrapped your arms around his trim waist, as you pressed your lips to his softly.

The ache that had been simmering in his chest since you left is morphing into arousal, moving to settle down in his belly. His lips moved tentatively against yours, teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip.

“Hey,” Wrecker protested loudly. “We agreed we’d all talk to her together, Crosshair!”

The two of you break apart, and you clear your throat, your eyes trained on Crosshair.

“Talk to me about what?” You asked, breathlessly.

“Sorry, doll,” Crosshair said before Wrecker tugged him away in a headlock.

“What are you gonna talk to me about?” you asked again.

“When we get home, cyar’ika,” Wrecker said before turning to Crosshair. “Knew you were full of it, Cross!”

You touch your lips, as you watch the pair of them playfully fighting down the corridor. Did that happen? You pinched your arm as hard as you could, grimacing when it hurt, confirming you were awake, Crosshair had just kissed you. What the hell happened while you were gone? And what did they need to talk to you about?

***

In the cockpit on watch, you relaxed in the copilot’s chair, Tech snoozed gently in the pilot’s chair. It was so good to be home despite the fact that there was clearly something going on with your boys. Your alarm beeped, and you rose from the chair, yawning and stretching ready to trade out with Crosshair, and pass out for a little while.

Hunter intercepted you in the hallway with a grin. “I can’t sleep, so I’ll cover for Crosshair. Go get some rest.” He kissed your forehead, and added, “Good to have you home, Doc.”

“Good to be home, Sarge,” you replied before bidding him goodnight, and heading towards your bunk.

“Hunter?” You turn towards him.

“Hmm?” Hunter asks turning to you.

“What happened while I was gone? Why’s everyone acting weird?”

“We’ll talk when we get back to Kamino. Get some rest,” He says with a mysterious grin that makes you bite your lip.

You pout but follow his orders and head to your bunk. You’re about to climb in when you look towards Crosshair’s bunk. He was the least likely to spill the beans, but he had kissed you earlier. Was that the big secret?

You moved to stand near Crosshair’s bunk. Pushing back the privacy curtain, you whispered his name like you normally would to wake him up for his shift.

“My turn already?” he replied sleepily.

“No, Hunter’s there. I was hoping we could talk about earlier, or we could just sleep,” Even after your encounter earlier, he still made you nervous, and you worried you’d made a mistake until he lifted the blankets, and silently invited you into his bed.

You crawled in, and he lowered the blanket over your body before snaking his arm around your waist and pushing his leg between yours. His muscular thigh pressed up against you, sending a wave of heat through your body. He tucked your head beneath his chin, and it became clear he was not saying a word, so you listened to his heartbeat until you were lulled to sleep.

When you woke up a few hours later, you realized that you hadn’t slept well at all while you were gone. You needed to be crammed into the Marauder with your squad to relax. It helped that Crosshair had held you the entire time, and as you stretched and arched your back you realized he was looking at you.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked quietly not wanting to disturb the others. He simply nodded, his eyes roaming your face, as his hand rested on your waist.

“Good. We should be home soon, yeah?” you asked, rolling onto your back before sitting up.

“Something like that,” Crosshair replied cryptically.

You didn’t bother asking what he meant before sliding out of the bunk, and tossing him a smile.

“I’m going to see where we are. Go back to sleep.”

Once again he nodded, but he knew there was no chance of going back to sleep. Not when he knew what they had planned for the day.

You wandered into the cockpit, taking the co-pilot’s seat next to Echo.

“How was your first night back?” Echo asked smiling as you got comfortable in the chair.

“Cozy. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you guys until I was gone.”

“I don’t think we did either,” he confesses.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, trying not to seem too happy about it.

He nodded, and the two of you were quiet for a moment. As always silence was never awkward with Echo, and while this was no exception, you could feel a tension in the air. It was reminiscent of the one you’d felt the night before when Crosshair had kissed you.

“I don’t suppose I can get you to tell me what’s going on?” You asked, turning the chair towards him and leaning forward.

“Always so impatient, saraad,” Echo says shaking his head.

“I can’t help it. Something’s up. Crosshair has been sweet to me,” you add in a conspiratorial whisper.

Echo huffs out a short laugh.

“Oh has he now?”

“Yeah, and,” you hesistate. You want to keep going, to spill every thought in your head to Echo, but something’s got your tongue. “It’s nothing.” You turn your chair back into place, and ask, “Where are we? How far from home?”

Reluctantly, Echo tears his gaze away from you. He looks over the navicomputer.

“Not far.”

“You wanna get some sleep? I can get us to Kamino safely.”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“Ok, I can get us there. No promises on the condition,” you concede.

“You’re meant to be resting. Crosshair told us what happened,” Echo trails off.

“I told you he was being sweet to me, but I guess a kiss is a little more than sweet…”

“Kiss?! I meant you getting shot!” Echo hisses trying not to wake the others, as he spins towards you.

“He told you about that?!” You hiss back, spinning towards him.

“Of course he did. Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wanna worry you guys. Cross was not happy when he saw the bandage, and…”

“Of course he wasn’t. And I’m not happy you didn’t tell us. We could have lost you,” Echo’s eyes are worried, his brow knit together, as he reaches for your face.

His fingertips have just brushed your jaw when the cockpit opens, and the pair of you sit back and look towards the door.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Hunter says, gesturing for you to follow him.

“I was,” you pout. “I just wanted to see if we were close to home.”

“That’s funny because it sounded like you were arguing about keeping your injury a secret,” Hunter says. Out of everyone on the ship, you never thought Crosshair would be the one to tell on you.

“No, I was just…trying to…ya know?”

“No, I don’t know, senaar’ika. Now get in your bunk and rest your eyes. I’ll wake you the moment we land.”

“Fine,” you relent, and climb into your bunk, and even your racing brain can’t keep you awake.

taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit (not sure if you wanted to be tagged in everything or not, so just let me know 🥰)

#I was having strong Cross feels when I started writing #all the boys get more attention in part 2 #the bad batch x reader #tbb fanfiction #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #seven writes #seven answers

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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake.

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night.

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his.

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim.

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly.

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first.

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening.

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up.

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing.

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him.

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy.

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat.

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release.

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths.

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?”

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck.

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #e.m. thots from lu #drabble #smut #mdni

5K notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 5 months

Text

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact.

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring.

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did.

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect.

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out.

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure.

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm.

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat.

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you.

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said.

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation.

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience.

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face.

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping?

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily.

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put.

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them.

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning.

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed.

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit.

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow.

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now.

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened.

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly.

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene.

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point.

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine.

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days.

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame.

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again.

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair.

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed.

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did.

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second.

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close.

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom.

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day.

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself.

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #request #cormac mclaggen #fem reader

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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months

Text

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?”

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.”

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space.

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp.

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.”

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised.

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment.

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!”

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture.

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again.

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle.

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip.

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.”

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…”

“Osita…”

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.”

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed.

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened.

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi.

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker.

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner.

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see.

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways.

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front.

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them.

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box.

And holy fuck did he look hot.

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground.

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it.

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box.

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view.

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up.

“Hermosa, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind.

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade.

“What’s going on, baby?”

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you.

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.”

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you.

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-”

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.”

Oh, fuck me.

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?”

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it.

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body.

“Like, right now?”

“Like, right now.”

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest.

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat.

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room.

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal.

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming.

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…”

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function.

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further.

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?”

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth.

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal.

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic.

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin.

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came.

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly.

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor.

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace.

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible.

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-” You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him.

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure.

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.”

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear.

“You still okay, Osita?”

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again.

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response.

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again.

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt.

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser.

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.”

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core.

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him.

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came.

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high.

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath.

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point.

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.”

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.”

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-”

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics.

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.”

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.”

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.”

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feninina · 8 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

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hs-is-loml · 5 months

Text

You Know This. (cl16)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x best friend!Reader

Summary: moments of charles and reader throughout the years that show they are so obviously meant for each other so carlos gives them a small push. (they are basically together but without the title...)

Warnings: mentions of Jules and Hervé so little angst but the majority is fluff! one kiss? lando swears. cute couple moments of two idiots UNEDITED

a/n: almost forgot how to write compared to the social media AUs i've been doing... hope you enjoy :)

all translations of french below

Chérie = darling

masterlist

19 years old

You stared out the window overlooking the streets of Baku until you heard a sigh from across the room.

“I’m so tired. Is it even worth going through this weekend?” Charles admitted as you looked over to him running his hands over his face while he took a seat on the edge of the hotel bed. “I don’t know if I’ll make it through.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t,” you said walking over to stand in front of him.

“That’s what they all expect isn’t it?”

“You’re doing more than enough just being here,” you brought your hands to his face and gently rubbed your thumb along his jaw.

“I miss him, Y/n. How am I supposed to continue without him?” he whispered while he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to lean his head against your stomach.

You could tell that he had finally reached a breaking point from holding out on his own emotions as he helped everyone in the family with theirs. You knew that he was staying strong for Pascale and Arthur while Lorenzo was handling everything for Hervé’s funeral. When he asked you to accompany him for this race, you said yes without any doubts crossing your mind.

You soon feel his shoulders shake as he lets out soft sobs. “You continue for him. Just like you have done for Jules, they’re going to watch your legacy grow together. One day you’ll be driving in that red car placing poles and winning races. You will make it through this,” you played with the hair at the nape of his neck as you reassured him.

You were aware that he had told Hervé a few weeks ago that he had signed with Ferrari already. In the past few years, it had always been the goal. Everyone understood how crucial it was for him to make that come true.

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I know, but I believe in you. We all do. It’s only a matter of time.”

“What would I do without you?” he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I never plan on leaving you,” you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

"I'll never let you go."

20 years old

You were talking with Andrea and Lorenzo near the Alfa Romeo motorhome while you all waited for Charles to finish with media day. “How do you think he’s doing with the news?” you anxiously looked around in the hope of seeing him heading your way. “The media has gone wild when the contact got out that he signed with Ferrari.”

“Probably basking in the attention,” Lorenzo laughed. “You know how long he’s waited for this.”

“That boy never fails to catch the camera either,” Andrea added while you covered your mouth with your hand trying to stifle your laugh when you realized that Charles was finally done for the day.

Charles came to your side snaking an arm around your waist and teasingly poked you, “What are you three laughing about you?”

“You,” all of you replied, causing him to gasp in fake annoyance.

“I know ma chérie would never do such a thing,” he shook his head at the two men. “Enzo, look how bad of an influence you are.” Which was Andrea’s queue to quietly leave before he was targeted by the young driver too. He took Lorenzo along with him as the older brother gaped at the accusation.

You both started to head to his driver’s room to gather his things before driving back to the hotel. “How was it?” you asked him while you took out his phone from your purse.

“A lot. It feels like it’s never ending and everyone keeps congratulating,” he smiled and reached out for the phone.

“I’ve only heard of all the good things so far,” you tell him and hand the phone back to him.

You had begun to look for your jacket, and it was almost as if he had read your mind, “It’s right here, I’ve got it.”

As you two walked out of the paddock, there were still crowds of fans and photographers lingering around the area hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the drivers. People started to whisper and squeal when they saw Charles place his hat on your head allowing you to shield your face from the now flashing cameras.

“Who is she?”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“They must be dating.”

“Charles! Over here!”

“Can you sign this for me please!”

You listened to all the hollers from the crowd as you got into the car, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Charles softly asked and glanced at you before starting to drive back to the hotel.

“Were they always like that while you were in F2 and I’ve never noticed?” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’m not sure,” he chuckled at your reaction.

21 years old

“He has one more corner!” you held onto Andrea’s arm anxiously looking at the screen.

“MERCEDES THREW EVERYTHING AT HIM TODAY… CHARLES LECLERC HAS COPED BRILLIANTLY!” you heard from the speakers.

“HE’S GOT IT!” one of the crew members screamed when they saw Charles shoot down to the line.

“HE WINS IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA! CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2019 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!” David Croft announced as Charles crossed the finish line. He had just won in Monza in front of the infamous Tifosi.

You felt yourself get pushed to the front of the barrier as people started rushing to see the winner. The momentous scene couldn’t have been better. He had just ended the nine-year winless streak in Monza and scored his second consecutive race win. All you could hear in the hectic moment was the Ferrari crew chanting out in Italian for Charles. The crowds of fans roared out in cheers and the stands filled with raised Ferrari and Italian flags.

You will never forget the moment he jumped down from on top of his car and made his way over to you. His hands found your sides as you held the sides of his helmet. “You did it,” your smile wide and eyes filled with tears as you focused on him.

“For them,” he told you tenderly.

“For them,” you repeated and placed a kiss right where you thought the corner of his mouth would have been. The crew reached over to congratulate him, and the cameras were pointed directly at him wanting to capture the moment.

The podium ceremony was scintillating. The crew, media, and Tifosi all packed in to see their winner. Andrea knew to keep you close to the front knowing that Charles would want to see you more than anyone else. It wasn’t only you looking up at him in admiration though it seemed like the world stopped for a moment when he blew a kiss back down to you from the podium.

Your cheeks flushed from the action and beamed as you met his eyes, “I love you,” you mouthed to him hoping he could read your lips from the stand.

“I love you,” he replied back.

22 years old

With COVID delaying the F1 season and everyone having to quarantine. You and Charles had decided to move in together into his apartment to keep each other company. It wasn’t hard to fall into a routine for you two.

“Y/n! Can you bring me water please?” you heard a yell from Charles’ gaming room.

You got up from the couch and set aside your book heading into the kitchen. Decided to bring him a small pack of crackers as well along with the water since he had been on stream for a while. You brought the plate to him which he thanked you for and gave your hand three small squeezes.

The simple interaction caused the chat to make tons of new comments flow through regarding you. Over the past few years, you found yourself more comfortable with your life in front of the camera because of his career, and it makes you look back to the times of Charles’ first year in F1. You could now give a small wave to the camera before you planned to head back out to the door.

“That’s not fair,” you heard Lando complain from the screen, causing you to halt in your footsteps to listen closely. “You have Y/n to bring you stuff, and you don’t even need to stop the game.”

“Lando’s just jealous he doesn’t have anybody,” George snickered.

“Damn right, I am,” Lando huffed out. “I want a Y/n.”

Charles noticed you silently laughing and he motioned for you to come back over wanting to tease Lando a bit more. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to be in the frame, “Too bad there’s only one of her.”

Lando started muttering about how it was not his fault that he was alone during these times all while you shook your head at their antics. Alex and George continued the jokes creating a newfound argument that moved the topic away from you and Charles. “What do you want for dinner?” you questioned him softly not wanting to disrupt the chaotic banter from the others.

“Will you make carbonara?”

“DID YOU HEAR THAT??” Lando pointed to the screen baffled. “SHE EVEN COOKS DINNER FOR HIM! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN? Y/N, WILL YOU COOK FOR ME NEXT TIME?”

“Sure, Lando. Once quarantine ends we can plan something out,” you replied with a sweet smile towards the camera.

“YES!” he cheered out at your response.

“Once we get back to racing, will you bring your cookies again?” George asked excitedly.

“Or the muffins!” Alex added on.

“I’ll go and bring them if you bring Lily, Alex!” you answered them.

24 years old

You told Charles earlier in the week telling him that you couldn’t make it to the Bahrain Grand Prix due to work. Really you just wanted to surprise him, and you had been in contact with Carlos planning it out.

“I think he is getting suspicious of me,” Carlos told you over the phone as you got your bags together waiting for Carlos’ cousin to come and get you from the airport.

“Well, I’ve only sent him short messages for the past few days and maybe ignored a couple of his calls because I can’t keep lying to him…” you explained which caused the man on the other side of the phone to snicker at your dispense.

“I swear you want him to kill me, Y/n. Once he finds out.”

“Find out what? Who are you talking to all the time, mate?” you listened to Charles continuously question Carlos.

"No one!" Carlos quipped.

"Is that Y/n?" Charles asked him.

"No, it's my sister..."

“Good luck!” you hung up the call quickly and got into the car with Carlos Oñoro.

“Charles found out?” he started heading to the hotel that the Ferrari team was staying at.

“Hopefully not yet, but Carlos was talking about how he’s on to him already.”

A notification went off on your phone and you saw it was a text message from Carlos.

You opened your messages with Charles and came up with something quick to text him about.

at the circuit

“Hermosa! You made it!” Carlos exclaimed when he saw you walking towards the group of the drivers that just got out of the media pen. "I swear he was going to choke me earlier."

You laughed at his remark and went over to his side to whisper to him, “He doesn’t know I’m here yet, right?”

He tugged you a bit closer and kept his hand on your upper back. He spoke into your ear in a hushed tone while carefully looking around, “Not a clue, but you remember what I said over text? You say he’s not your boyfriend yet, so let’s mess with him just a little. It’ll prove something to you.”

“Prove what-”

You were cut off by Lando as he finally took notice of your presence, “Y/n! Tell me you brought them!”

“Yes, Lando,” you smiled, taking a small packaged bag of cookies out of your bag before you could even hand them to him. He had snatched it and already begun opening the bag. “Yours are back at the hotel,” you told Carlos who was trying to take one from Lando.

“GIVE ME ONE!” George yelled at Lando who took his chance and ran off with his cookies.

“NO!” causing George to chase after the Mclaren driver.

Another group of drivers came over as they had just finished with their interviews. You saw Charles talking with Sebastian but he didn’t see you yet. “Sweetheart! A pleasant surprise, Charles was just talking about how you couldn’t make it,” Sebastian said with a smile as he walked past you with Fernando.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you smiled back and felt a breath near your ear.

“How long do you think it will take him to drag you away?” Carlos said in a low voice.

“He wouldn’t,” you mutter back.

“Oh, yes he would. Good luck with him,” Carlos grinned as Charles had stormed over to you two and grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Charlie!” you yelped as you tried to keep up with his pace towards the Ferrari’s motorhome and into his driver’s room.

He shut the door behind him, “So you can text Carlos but not me?”

"What are you talking about?" you acted confused."

"I know you were on call with Carlos earlier. But you couldn't even answer mine this morning?"

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Charles,” you huffed out.

“What a surprise that you and Carlos are together now?” he scoffed at the mere thought.

You began to laugh aloud which caused him to frustrate even further, “E-ex-cuse me?” you said through your laughter.

“This is not funny, Y/n.”

“Charles, it’s funny you think that I would even do anything with Carlos in the first place,” you pointed out to him while setting your bag down on a chair.

You heard his footsteps come closer to you until you felt him press against your back, “Are you not?”

You turned around to face him and took his face in your hands, “Of course not.”

“Good,” he placed his hands on your waist rubbing up and down your sides.

“And why is that?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Y-you kno-o-ow b-b-because you’r-re…” he trailed off a stuttering mess caught off guard by your question.

You stroke his jaw with your thumbs and brought his face closer to yours, “Charles, I’m yours. You know this.”

He leaned down and closed the gap between your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He kissed you gently as if he were testing the waters. You smiled against his lips and moved to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further.

“No more surprises, okay?" he said as you separated.

"Okay, but no more jumping to conclusions either."

"You are going to give me gray hairs early, Chérie," he exasperated.

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cleo-fox · 8 months

Text

Movie Night

Summary: You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and…you kind of have a thing for him.

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, couch sex, quiet sex, praise kink, friends to lovers, making out, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, praise kink.

A/N: I’m working on cross posting all my stuff from AO3. I wrote this a little while ago in an effort to address some writer’s block (it didn’t work, but I had fun writing it). This is also on AO3.

You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and you’ve got a little bit of a thing for him. You think he might have some interest in you, but you’re not certain enough to make the first move.

You look forward to your movie nights, but when this particular Friday night rolls around, you’re absolutely dragging by the time the clock strikes eight, thanks to a bad night of sleep the previous evening. Before the movie even starts, you’re wrapping yourself in the soft throw from your room and curling up, pillowing your head on the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t realize I would have such riveting company this evening,” says Loki dryly.

You roll your eyes and stretch obnoxiously, purposely shoving your feet into his lap. “I was up ‘til three this morning, give me a break.”

“Surely you need your full wits about you to appreciate the nuance of this fine cinema.”

He’s being sarcastic; you decide to ignore it because that will annoy him the most. You stifle a yawn and give him your most beatific smile before hunkering back down under your blanket. Loki grumbles something indeterminate, but he doesn’t shove your feet off his lap—in fact, he drapes his arm over your ankles like it’s not a big deal at all.

This simple gesture warms you from the inside out and sends a flurry of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. You are pretty sure nothing is going to come of it—stuff like this has been going on for months and nothing has happened—but it’s still nice. You have no idea what it means, but it’s nice.

You’re not entirely surprised that you fall asleep during the movie—you are tired and while you don’t necessarily want to admit that any of Loki’s cinematic complaints have merit, the movie really wasn’t very good. Between that and your cozy blanket, it’s a recipe for an unintentional nap.

It’s dark when you wake up. You don’t really remember falling asleep, though you think it must have been about halfway through the film, based on the last hazy bit of dialogue you can recall.

You certainly don’t remember Loki sliding over on the couch to join you. But here he is, spooned up against your back, arms snaking around your waist, and the blanket tucked neatly over the two of you.

It’s dark and quiet and his breath is warm and even against the back of your neck. You’re reasonably certain that he’s asleep, though you wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it.

You consider your options. You probably should get up before someone wanders in and finds you like this, but…you don’t want to. You are wildly attracted to Loki—there’s no denying that—and the feeling of his strong arms wrapped snugly around your waist and the warmth of his broad chest pressing against your back is far too intoxicating to give up, even though you’re currently tangled up with him in a common area.

Still…you’re not entirely sure what to do about this. At some point, you’ll both need to go to your respective beds. Pretending to be asleep when he wakes is almost certainly not an option—he’ll somehow know that you’re faking and he’ll absolutely call you out on it, which will make the whole thing worse. Going back to sleep is tempting, but it presents its own set of risks.

But then…why did he curl up with you like this? Surely he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t find you appealing in some way. Maybe you don’t actually need an exit strategy? Maybe you can just enjoy it. You’re a bit too comfortable, sleepy, and distracted to think properly, anyway. You allow yourself to relax further into his embrace.

And then you feel his cock twitch against your ass.

It’s almost impressive how quickly your body shifts from content and pleasantly sleepy to wide awake and intensely aroused. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a calm and rational voice saying you’re being ridiculous, but this is easily drowned out by the growing ache between your thighs.

You press your thighs together and try to take slow and even breaths, but it doesn’t really help. If you weren’t sure what to do before, now you’re at a complete loss. The safe assumption would be to chalk it up to biology and timing and move on, but it’s really difficult to do that when you’ve been locked in this flirty back and forth with him for months and you want him as much as you do.

You feel him twitch again and you bite your lip as the ache between your thighs pulses in a kind of answer, the slickness growing. Your breath is quiet, but shallow, your heart thrumming in your throat.

You’re trying to keep perfectly still, but between your aching core and the slight kink in your hip from the way you’re positioned on the couch, doing so is easier said than done. You hold out for as long as you can before you give in and shift your hips slightly, trying to be as subtle as possible.

He stirs in his sleep and pulls you closer, his cock pressing hard against your ass. You’re not sure if he’s awake—his breath is still coming slow and even against the back of your neck—but you can’t quite suppress the way your own breath stutters in your throat when you feel him against you.

God, you want him.

He flexes his fingers where they are splayed against your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose brush against the curve of your neck.

“Will you admit now that you want me?” he says. His voice is low and intimate and calls to mind dark silk and smoke.

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to,” you say, which is true—whatever’s been brewing between you has been subtle, more sidelong glances than lustful stares; you’ve never spoken about it.

“Don’t play coy with me, pet,” he says, his voice a soft growl against your neck. “I have enjoyed the chase, but I’ve no more patience for games.”

The slickness between your thighs increases at the slight roughness in his voice. His lips graze the shell of your ear and you let out a sharp breath.

“Admit it.” He catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your back arching slightly against him.

“In due time,” he says, his hips pressing back against you. “Answer me first.”

You roll over so that you’re facing him. The sharp, angular planes of his face are flattered by the faint, moody blue light from the sleeping city outside. He stares openly, brazenly, at your lips, his hand resting on your waist.

“What happens if I do?” you ask.

He gives you a wolfish smile and his hand strokes down your waist to your thigh. He pulls your leg up and over his hip, drawing you toward him so that his cock presses against your clothed heat. You have to bite your lip to hold back a moan, but you’re pretty sure he catches the slight hitch in your breath.

“You’re a clever girl,” he says, “I’m sure you can work it out.”

When you’ve thought about this moment before—and you’ve admittedly thought about it a lot—you’ve always imagined yourself smirking right back at him, meeting his clever quips with barbs of your own until he’s forced to admit how much he wants you. But you’re not quite prepared for the way that your brain abruptly short circuits at the feeling of his thick, hard cock pressing against your clit through the thin fabric of your leggings or how his gaze is a thousand times hungrier in the dark than it was in your imagination. It feels thrilling and sexy being here with him like this, tangled up in the dead of night in the middle of the common area. Clever quips and keeping him hanging seem like an impossibility several times over.

He seems to sense that your resolve is faltering because his hand slides to your lower back and he rocks his hips against you ever so slightly, giving you just a taste of that beautiful friction.

“Admit it.” It’s not a question this time and a pleasant shiver runs up your spine.

You lick your lips. “I—I want you.”

His smile is like sin. “Good girl.”

You’re practically trembling with want when he kisses you, so slow and sensual that it makes you whimper when his tongue strokes past your lips and into your mouth.

He moves in a languid, almost lazy way that makes you dizzy with need. He’s completely unhurried, but there’s a tension in his body that tells you he’s barely holding back, that he wants you a lot more than what he’s saying.

You almost don’t notice his hand sliding from your back to your hip and then ghosting along your stomach until he slips it under the band of your leggings.

“How much do you want me?” he asks as his fingers trail lightly along the fabric of your underwear.

“You can’t tell?” you ask, trying and mostly failing to keep your voice level.

“I like to be certain,” he says.

“You just like hearing me say it,” you say.

His eyes glitter as his hand slips under the elastic of your underwear and slowly creeps downward. “And why shouldn’t I like hearing you tell me how much you want me?”

“I—” His hand is so close to where you need him. He runs one finger right along the edge of your slit and your breath catches. “I—I don’t…”

He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You don't…?”

“I…” Your mind is blissfully blank and every fiber of your being is focused on his hand and your aching clit. “I—I don’t…remember the question.”

You think you must have surprised him a little because he laughs in a way that makes his eyes light up, even in the moody blue half dark of the room. But after a brief moment he refocuses and his fingers slowly part your dripping folds and finally stroke your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, a moan catching in your throat.

“As I thought,” he tuts. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” You nod and he makes a scolding sound. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

You can feel your cheeks heat, which is ridiculous given that he’s got his hand down your pants. You lick your lips. “I need to come.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” His fingers circle your clit lightly and retreat.

You shiver, your hips rolling forward, searching out his fingers. “Touch me.”

“How?”

You bite back a whimper as his fingers trace a circuit around your clit, avoiding your obvious need. “Please, Loki.”

“I need you to be more specific, darling,” he purrs. Your hips roll forward and he retreats again.

“You know what I want,” you say.

His smile is sharp. “Have we not established that I like hearing you say such things?” His fingers bypass your clit again. “Tell me how you want me to touch you. Tell me what you want.”

Your pride—or what remains of it—has slowly eroded to nothing. You lick your lips. You need him.

“I—I need you to touch me,” you say again. “I want you to rub my clit until I come on your fingers.”

His smile is vulpine but his fingers finally roll over your clit, lightly circling it. You breathe out, your hips rocking with his hand.

“Absolutely drenched,” he murmurs. “You’re a proper mess, my love.”

“It’s because you’re such a fucking tease,” you say, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise. “I’m a tease? Am I not giving you everything that you asked for?”

“After amping me up,” you retort.

“And I’m taking care of that now, aren’t I? I’m touching you just like you begged me to.” He changes the movement of his hand slightly, fingers rolling across the most sensitive part of your clit. You suck in a deep breath and his eyes darken as he readjusts his hand to hit that spot again. “And you obviously like it. I daresay you need it.”

Your head tips back as your hips rock with his hand. You can feel your orgasm beginning to build and for the first time, it occurs to you that you are doing this in the middle of a common area. Reluctant as you are to stop, you can’t help but think it might be best to relocate.

“Should—fuck, yes, just like that—should we go back to your room? Or mine?” you manage to gasp.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

“S-someone might hear,” you gasp as his fingers massage your slick and swollen clit.

The white of his teeth flashes in the dark as he continues to touch you. “Then I suggest you keep quiet,” he says, his voice rough.

You manage to raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want to hear me?”

Another sharp smile. “Later.” His eyes darken. “You’ve kept me from my prize long enough. I rather think you’ve earned this little game.”

“I thought you had no more patience for games,” you manage to say.

He smiles and it occurs to you that he likes it when you talk back, perhaps just as much as you enjoy him putting you in your place. “Oh, I think I rather like this game,” he says, his fingers suddenly slowing, but still exerting a firm pressure on your clit. “How hard will you come for me? How quiet can you be?” His eyes darken again. “Or perhaps you don’t want to be quiet. Perhaps you want to be heard. Perhaps you want the others to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

You shudder despite yourself.

“Wicked girl,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Letting me touch you out here in the open like this. Anyone could walk in here and see.”

“You’d really let that happen?” you ask. “I didn’t take you for the type who likes to share.”

The hunger in his eyes increases tenfold and you know this was the right thing to say. “Oh, I don’t share, darling. Especially not you.” He increases the speed of his fingers ever so slightly and your breath catches, the tension in your hips building. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many times I’ve thought about ravishing you until you forget every name but mine? How many times I’ve imagined you wet and begging for my cock?” His voice drops to a low rasp. “I have gone to bed hard and aching for you more nights than I can count.”

His words and his fingers are a wonderful and wicked combination. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his ink dark hair and pulling him in to kiss you. He does, but with such a lazy restraint that you can’t help but whimper a little, trying to press yourself closer as your hips rock with his hand. You’re reaching the place in the lead up to your orgasm where you’re so desperate to come that you feel like you’d do almost anything. It’s a heady place, with an edge of danger and you think that Loki must have an inkling of it based on the way his eyes darken.

“Did you think of me like this? Did you touch yourself, imagining the feeling of my hands on your body?”

“I—”

He must catch the slight hesitation in your eyes because that firm authority returns to his voice. “Tell me.”

Panting, you nod and earn another one of those dark and hungry smiles.

“How many times did you make yourself come while thinking of me?”

You don’t know the answer to that. Partly because it was like…several times a week. For the last six months. At least.

“A lot,” you finally manage.

His smile is devilish as he kisses you. “You’re going to come at least twice as hard for me tonight.”

The muscles of your cunt clench tightly around nothing. You need him so badly. Have you ever needed anyone like this? You’re fairly sure you haven’t. You’re getting close, your hips rolling with the stroke of his hand.

“Tell me how much you need it,” he purrs. “Tell me how you need to fall apart on my fingers.”

“Loki—”

“Tell me.”

“Please—I’m so close—”

“Tell me and I’ll let you come. Be a good girl for me, darling, and I’ll give you everything you need.”

You gasp. “Fuck, Loki, I—fuck, I need to come—I need you—”

You’re not sure how he manages it—perhaps there’s some magic involved, perhaps it’s luck or skill—but you start to come the moment the words leave your lips. The edges of your vision blur slightly as your orgasm overtakes you, roaring up from your hips and bursting like fireworks in the night sky. You gasp, trying to hold in a moan, but a slight whimper escapes you before Loki’s mouth covers your own, claiming you in a hungry kiss. His hand is still moving, fingers still circling your clit.

“Oh, yes,” he breathes against your lips. “Oh that’s lovely.”

It seems to last a long time, drawing out in long waves that make your toes curl. He kisses you throughout, until you very nearly lose track of where you end and he begins. All the while, his fingers keep rubbing your clit, extending your pleasure and making you shudder.

You can feel his cock still pressing against your hip and you want nothing more than to take him in your hands and make him feel just as good as he made you feel.

“I want to touch you,” you say and you’re treated to another one of those hungry smiles before he starts undoing the fastenings of his trousers. His cock finally springs free and you suck in a deep breath. He’s big—easily the biggest you’ve ever had—and you can’t help the ache that courses through you.

It’s immensely rewarding hearing his breath hitch when you take him in your hand. You’re surprised by how warm he is—you’d expect a Frost Giant to run a little cooler, but he’s hot and throbbing. You stroke him slowly from base to tip, squeezing his shaft ever so slightly.

His head tips back and he lets out a very quiet groan before reaching to push your hand away. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry—” you start to say.

“I need you now,” he says, tugging your leggings and underwear down and off, his voice conveying both authority and desperation in a way that makes you ache.

He pulls you to him, drawing your leg up over his hip to spread you open. He rubs the tip of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your slickness and taking every opportunity to tease your clit.

He finally settles himself at your entrance and slowly begins easing into you.

He kisses you and it’s a good thing he does because you’re so slick and wound up that the dull, blunt stretch of his cock sliding inside of you unexpectedly tips you right back over the edge, pulling a soft moan from your lips as you come on his cock. You almost have a mind to be embarrassed—you’ve hardly begun and you’re already coming undone—but the feral glint in Loki’s eyes is enough to make you forget all about it.

“Like I said: you’re absolutely desperate for it, ” he says, pressing even deeper inside of you. “And you’re taking me so well.” He withdraws slightly and pushes forward again and you bury your face in his neck to hide your moan.

His fingers slide between your legs to find your clit. “I want to feel you come again,” he says, gently beginning to stroke you as he thrusts again. “You feel exquisite.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to build you back up—the steady thrust of his cock stroking your slick walls just right and his fingers expertly circling your clit is more than enough to take you there. It’s all so good and the way he’s kissing you is making you dizzy in the best way.

“I can feel you, darling,” he purrs in your ear. “Let go. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

With a few more thrusts, you do. You bury your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle your moans as much as possible.

“That’s it, yes,” he growls as he fucks you through the aftershocks. His brow is furrowed and his focus is intent and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Loki,” you breathe.

Even though he’s in the process of losing his composure, he still manages a wicked grin. “One more for me, love,” he rasps.

You’re not sure if you can manage another, to be quite frank. “Loki, I—”

“One more,” he says again, his eyes flashing. “One more and I’ll fill your tight, perfect cunt with my seed. One more and I’ll make you mine.”

His words send something electric and primal racing up your spine and quite suddenly, you find yourself hurtling toward the release you didn’t think you had in you. A choked whimper catches in your throat and you are trembling in his arms and with one last shudder, you come hard.

“Nearly there.” His words are punctuated by gasps, his hips never faltering in their rhythm.

His hips snap hard against you and he throws his head back, his face rapt in ecstasy, lost to a pure pleasure as he comes. He’s staggeringly beautiful in this moment and you’re filled with a feral kind of possessiveness—he is yours and you don’t want to share this moment or this feeling or this man with anyone else. It’s a startling thought—one you know that you know you’ll need to interrogate at some point—but you decide that it can wait until later. He starts kissing you and it nearly takes your breath away—it’s soft and tender and still so decadent it feels like it should be forbidden.

You want to stay in this moment with him, your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still pressed inside of you, but you know it can’t last. Something in your chest aches as he pulls away from you, vanishes the mess and tucks himself back into his trousers. He slowly stands up and you suddenly feel so much colder than you were before.

But before you can start to wallow in that misery, he’s bending down and scooping you up into his arms, throw blanket and all.

Before you can even think to ask where he’s taking you, you’re in his rooms and he’s placing you gently on the bed.

“Oh, so now you want privacy,” you say as you watch him quickly strip off his clothes, your gaze lingering on every emerging detail like you’re a woman starved.

He smirks and joins you in bed, covering your body with his and kissing you deeply as he pulls off the rest of your clothes. The feeling of his bare skin on yours is so dizzying that it takes you a moment to realize that he’s hard again.

“Already?” you say with a disbelieving laugh.

His smile is sin dripped in syrup. “I am a god, pretty girl.”

The ache between your legs returns and he kisses you like he knows it.

“And this time,” he says, his eyes glittering with want, “I want to hear you scream for me.”

You are more than happy to oblige.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x you smut

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floatyflowers · 3 months

Text

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Two

<<< Chapter One

Your eyes widen when you see Chiron being half horse half man.

"You are a centaur"

Chiron chuckles at your shocked expression.

"Indeed, I'm, and I'm here to guide you"

"Thank you, sir"

"Are you not going to greet me, (Wrong name)?"

You turn your eyes to stare at the dark haired dark eyes man with confusion.

"My name is (Y/n)" you correct him before asking "And you are?"

"Dionysus"

"As in the god who has a cult?"

"That's me, I miss my cult"

You nod in agreement, unsure if that was meant to be humor or a genuine confession.

"Yes, I used to rule an entire cult in ancient Greece. They all worshipped me and offered me sacrifices."

You feel a twinge of unease at the thought of being in a cult, especially one led by a god like Dionysus.

Still, you don't want to be rude, so you just smile politely and say.

"That's... great."

Dionysus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response.

"Well then," he says,

"Shall we continue on? I can show you around the camp and introduce you to some of the other demigods."

Chiron frowns, looking at Dionysus, finding his behaviour strange.

Dionysus is never friendly towards any demigod.

But now, he is offering to show you around.

Chiron never understood the gods obsession with you.

He assumed it has something to do with your powers.

"There is no need, but thank you for the offer, Luke showed me around the camp"

You say before turning towards the centaur.

"I will be going now if that's all"

The moment you take your leave, Dionysus sighs in disappointment.

"If only she was my daughter"

°°°

The cabin is all pastel pink and surrounded by flowers and cherubs statues, and it is also close to Aphrodite's cabin, which is not surprising.

But what made you uncomfortable is the glass window in your room.

You will need curtains for that later.

What is surprising is that you found tons of gifts on your bed and your wardrobe is filled with clothes.

And a note that says 'From your beloved grandmother. Aphrodite'

Also there are gifts from different deities.

For example, Hermes gave you a golden caduceus pendant with a blue diamond.

Apollo gave you healing potions.

Ares gifted you a dagger and also has a note with it 'Sharp enough to kill your enemies'

But what astonished you the most is the gift from Etos, it's a music box.

A cherubs music box, when you turn it on, it starts playing very enchanting music.

There is a long letter too.

My sweet demigoddess,

I write to you on this fine day to express my deepest love and adulation for you.

Your strength, courage, and power all demonstrate your divine ancestry, and your beauty and grace shine with the warmth of the sun.

My heart aches for you from far away, and all I desire is to embrace you in my arms and to watch you flourish with all that you are and can be.

This music box is a gift from me, once it starts playing, all monsters will flock away from you.

From your father,

Eros.

The strong fragrance on the letter makes you calm down.

To be honest, you don't hate Eros even though he never was by your side when you grew up.

Maybe the new life for you here, isn't bad after all.

°°°

"Capture the flag? As in fighting other demigods? no thank you"

You say, walking by Percy's side.

The boy showed up at your doorsteps first thing in the morning, and asked you to walk with him.

"Don't worry, I will protect you, if you stay by my side"

You stop and look at Percy and cross your arms over your chest.

"Why did you tell Luke that I'm your girlfriend?" you inquire.

Percy smiles.

"Because you have always been my girlfriend, remember in grade one where you wanted to marry me and made a promis-"

You quickly stop him, your cheeks heating up from the childhood memories.

"I was a child"

"I don't care, a promise is a promise"

"What if I fall for another?"

Percy shrugs, with the smile still on his face.

"It would be like Icarus flying too close to the sun"

You raise an eyebrow but he continues.

"Another might get close to you but they will never reach you before they fall to their deaths"

Chapter Three >>>

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #platonic yandere #daughter reader #yandere percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

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theemporium · 8 months

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[8.3k] the five times you tried to deny it, and the one time you and quinn gave into the bond pulling you together. (smut included)

based off this. smut included but it's not explicit. i may write a more detailed smut one shot in this universe later.

The first time you shared a moment with Quinn Hughes, you truly thought you were out-of-your-mind insane.

You weren’t even five years old when you first met the Hughes family. Your family had just moved, you were new to town and you were just confused why your whole life had to be packed up in boxes (no matter how many times your parents explained it).

And somewhere between the tears of being unable to find your favourite teddy in the cardboard boxes and not giving in to your parents’ bribes that you now had your very own—and fairly big—room in the new house, you had met Luke Hughes.

It was indescribable the way the bond between you and the youngest Hughes boy just snapped, but it was the only way to explain it. One day you were moving to a scary, new place and the next you were attached to the hip with an awkward, little boy who you loved like family.

Where Luke went, you followed.

When you jumped, Luke was right behind you.

You were a package deal, never one without each other. And it had always been the case. You were best friends. You shared something that went deeper than friendship and blood. You were each other’s person, and there was no doubt about that in anybody’s mind.

Your family became Luke’s and, in turn, his became yours. Ellen was a strong, empowering figure in your life that felt like a second mother. Jim was kind and encouraging, guiding you through some of your lowest moments. Even Jack felt like an older brother, someone who teased you and taunted you but defended you if anybody else tried to do the same.

But with Quinn, there was nothing.

For years, you were just his annoying little brother’s annoying little friend. And when you grew up, he was so focused on hockey that your paths rarely crossed, even with the countless amount of time you spent under the Hughes’ roof. You reached high school, he was already off to college. And when you and Luke got into Michigan, Quinn was already settled in Vancouver and playing in the big leagues like he always dreamed of.

He was by no means an asshole or a dick to you, your relationship with the oldest Hughes brother was just…non-existent. He was just there in your life. He was Luke’s oldest brother than you sometimes saw around, and nothing more.

You didn’t think that would ever change over time, let alone in the span of one summer.

There was no question that you would join the Hughes family at their lakehouse in the summer the second you finished up with finals. You had decided to spend some time back home with your parents before you joined the boys at the lakehouse, just as the friends started to fly in and it felt like it would be the same as every other summer.

You were painfully wrong.

Despite only just arriving, you should have known better than thinking the Hughes brothers were capable of a lazy day. The second your bags were dropped in your designated room (just beside Luke’s at the end of the hallway), they had dragged you out onto the boat and demanded to make up for lost time.

You laughed until tears were streaming down your cheeks. You ate until you swore you’d explode if you had another bite. You drank until the beers started to make you feel a little buzzed and settled and content. You sat around the dinner table sharing jokes and stories and random thoughts until, one by one, everyone tapped in for the night.

But not you.

Despite the travelling and the tiring day you had, the exhaustion in your bones wasn’t enough to settle you. You felt restless. You felt wide awake. You didn’t have the heart to lie in your bed and aimlessly stare at the ceiling. So, with the knowledge that Luke was already out like a light with no hope of waking up until the sun rises, you found yourself sitting on one of the chairs outside by the fire pit, the dying embers your only company as you enjoyed the serene silence of the lakehouse.

At least, they were your only company until he followed you outside.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You turned your head to look away from the slowing fire and towards the lakehouse, where you found the eldest Hughes brother walking towards you. He had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier, the shirt and shorts now replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie. Your lips twitched upwards when you noticed it was a Devils jersey he probably stole from his brothers, and one he probably wouldn’t dare to wear outside the privacy of the lakehouse.

You shook your head before nodding back towards the house. “What about you? Luke’s snores too much to deal with?”

Quinn breathed out a laugh. “We both got the short end of the stick sharing a wall with him.”

“You can say that again,” you murmured with a snort before you turned to face the fire pit again. “At least it’s peaceful out here.”

“And cold,” Quinn noted.

“I think that hoodie is keeping you warm enough,” you mused as he closed the distance to the firepit, now standing behind your seat. You almost jumped when you felt him place the blanket over your shoulders, not having even noticed he was holding it when he came out here.

“I meant for you,” Quinn stated simply before he took the spot next to you, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both sat there, staring at the dying fire. “You’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“Sorry, dad,” you joked, and maybe it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards. “It’s fine, I was heading back inside anyways.”

His brows furrowed together as you moved to stand up. “You looked quite settled though.”

“Well yeah,” you started, your cheeks burning as you noticed him nodding for you to continue. “I don’t know, I just thought you wanted to sit out here.”

He blinked. “So you were gonna leave?”

“I’ve had my time. I’m not gonna get in the way of your…silent brooding,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

He tilted his head to the side before he spoke. “You don’t have to leave. We can…silently brood together.”

This time it was your brows that furrowed together.

“Unless you don’t want to stay out here with me…” Quinn trailed off, a little awkwardly.

“It’s not that, it’s just—” you started, pausing for a moment before you shrugged again. “We don’t really talk.”

Quinn frowned. “We talk.”

“Quinn, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in six years,” you pointed out to him. He opened his mouth like he was about to counter your statement, but after a few moments it seemed like he realised you were telling the truth.

“Okay, maybe that’s true, but…it doesn’t have to be anymore,” he said as he patted the spot next to him, the spot you were sitting in a few minutes ago. “I mean, you’re like family”

You hesitated for a short moment before you settled in the spot next to him. It took a few more seconds before you finally had the guts to lift the end of the blanket, offering it to him with a sheepish smile. It took every single part of you burning with hope that it was too dark to notice the way your cheeks burned a little as he happily accepted the blanket and wrapped it around himself too.

“Up until junior year in high school, I thought you hated me,” you confessed, blurting the words out before you had a chance to stop yourself.

“What? Really?” He questioned, somewhat incredulously before he frowned. “What changed?”

“I realised you were just like that with everyone,” you admitted. “You all have your roles. Jack is the hyper-active golden retriever brother. Luke is, like, a black cat. Kinda keeps to himself, but he’s clingy when he trusts you.”

Quinn hummed, his eyes focused on the side of your face. “And me?”

“The grumpy cat,” you said as you turned to look at him, your voice a little breathless as you continued. “You look like you hate everyone, but you probably love the hardest. I’ve seen it with Luke. You act like he annoys you but…you probably love him more than anyone else in the world.”

“Other than you,” he noted.

You grinned a little. “Oh please, we aren’t on the same level. I mean, you can try to compete but you’ll lose.”

Quinn snorted, and it took you by surprise. “Yeah, you and my brother have your weird…psychic thing. I don’t think anyone could compare.” He paused for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You know, he threatened me about you once.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “What?”

“The bond between you,” Quinn laughed.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When?”

“It was when you broke your arm when you were like seven years old,” Quinn said. “You were bummed that whole summer.”

“It was meant to be the first year me and Luke could go tubing alone,” you murmured as the memories flashed through your mind. You hated every second a camera was pointed at you and the massive cast on your arm.

“I won this massive bag of sour patch kids at that carnival game and I knew they were your favourites,” he continued. “But Luke threw a tantrum. He cried to Dad that I was trying to steal his best friend, that I was bribing you. He said that if I gave you the bag, he would push me off the boat when Dad was going full speed.”

Your lips parted as you let out a surprised laugh. “Oh wow,” you murmured with a shake of your head. “That bastard robbed me out of a huge bag of sour patch kids.”

Quinn laughed, shaking his head. “That’s all you took from that story? Not the fact that he almost killed me?”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re here now, aren’t you? But you know what’s not here? The bag of sour patch kids.”

“It was really good,” Quinn mused playfully as you lightly dug an elbow into his ribs. “Ouch. Kidding.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not,” he confessed before smiling softly. “I’ll get you another to make up for it.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s not the same.”

“What? You want me to win it again?” Quinn questioned, though you could hear the amusement in his voice.

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Scared you’ll fail?”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn announced before offering his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

“Deal,” you repeated as you shook his hand.

But neither one of you pulled away. You sat there, huddled under the tartan blanket he had taken from the linen closet on the second floor, staring as you held onto each other’s hand. You could have pulled away. You should have pulled away. But some part of you kind of liked the feeling of his large, warm hand engulfing yours.

“You sure I won’t steal you away from Luke?” Quinn murmured, his eyes watching your face closely.

You smiled softly. “Depends how big the bag is.”

And he laughed, finally pulling his hand away as he turned his attention back to the firepit, and you were left wondering what the fuck just happened between you and Quinn Hughes.

…

You shared many moments with Quinn Hughes after that night, but the second time it really hit you again, you had no doubt that whatever was happening between you both was definitely a mutual feeling.

It was one of the hottest days of the summer, so it only made sense to take the boat out on the lake. With a backpack full of snacks and suncream, along with a cooler packed to the brim with water and beer bottles, you were set to have a good day.

Despite the heat, you had been wearing one of Luke’s old UMICH shirts as an overdress as you sat on the boat, pressed against him as Quinn took charge of driving. For reasons that were beyond your own understanding, you hadn’t opened up to your best friend about the growing friendship between you and his brother. You didn’t know why. You knew it wasn’t really a big deal.

But some part of you wanted to keep the bond bubbling between you and Quinn just for yourself, a secret shared between you two.

“Twenty bucks says Trevor tries to do a backflip before Jack,” Luke murmured to you as you both watched the other two boys, already playfully shoving each other.

“An extra says his heels hit the back of his head when he does it,” you murmured back, your lips twitching when Luke let out a loud, sudden laugh that caught the attention of the other boys.

“Quinn, they are doing it again!” Jack called out.

Luke frowned. “Doing what?”

“Being you,” Jack retorted, causing the youngest Hughes to roll his eyes.

“Stop being jealous, Rowdy,” you teased, flashing him a mocking pout. “Just cause you and Trevor wish you had what we have.”

“What we have is better,” Trevor insisted.

You and Luke shared a look before you both replied, “sure, Jan.”

“God, that is weird,” Cole murmured, sitting on the other side of you and Luke with an oddly curious expression.

“Wait until you see them move in sync,” Alex grumbled, his nose scrunched up. “It’s creepy.”

“I can’t believe we are on a boat with a bunch of jealous bitches,” you mused to your best friend, who only snorted in response.

By the time the boat had been anchored and settled, it took less than three seconds before most of the boys were jumping into the lake. Luke had tried to drag you in with him, but you batted his hands away. You should’ve known better than to think he would give up.

You only had enough time to shriek when Luke lifted you in his arms, not thinking twice before he threw you off the edge before following. By the time you broke through the surface, he was already laughing his ass off with the majority of the other boys.

“Dick!” You laughed at him.

“You still love me!” He called back.

“Unfortunately.”

You made your way towards the boat, kicking your legs to get you away from Luke as quickly as you could. You reached for the small ladder, your hands gripping the metal as you tried to pull yourself back up onto the boat.

“Here, let me help.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Quinn’s hands were wrapped around your waist, practically hauling you back onto the boat with ease. Your cheeks burned as you stumbled into him, your hands on his bare chest as you found your footing.

“Sorry,” you flashed him a sheepish smile.

But he didn’t look that bothered. “No worries at all.”

You glanced down at Luke’s shirt you were still wearing when he had thrown you in. It was absolutely soaked, and now laid heavy against your skin as you gently picked at the hem.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. “I didn’t bring anything else.”

“I have a hoodie you can borrow,” Quinn muttered out, far too quickly and, for a moment, you wondered if the pink on his cheeks was a blush or sunburn. “If you want.”

“I—yeah,” you eventually stuttered out. “That would be great.”

It hasn’t even been purposeful. It just made sense to peel the wet shirt over your head, hoping to wring it out and let it dry in the sun while you swim around for another hour or so. You didn’t even think twice when you wiggled out of it. You didn’t think it was a big deal until you lifted your head and found Quinn staring at you, lips parted and hoodie held aimlessly in his hand as he gaped at you.

“You good?” You questioned as though your heart wasn’t racing in your chest at his eyes on you.

“Yeah, no,” Quinn cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Just…yeah.”

You raised your brows. “Never seen a girl in a bikini before, Hughes?”

“Never seen you in one,” he corrected, and something about his response caught you off guard. Maybe because you weren’t expecting him to admit it. “You’re gorgeous.”

You tilted your head to the side. “You sound surprised by that.”

“What?” His eyes widened slightly. “No! No, I didn’t mean like that—”

“STOP BEING A CHICKEN AND GET BACK IN HERE!”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes narrowing down at your best friend. “I’m not a chicken!”

“Prove it then!” Luke called out.

You turned back around to look at Quinn who hadn’t torn his eyes away from you. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe even finish what he started a few moments ago before he was interrupted. But in the end, he couldn’t find himself able to say a single word.

You didn’t turn to look back at him as you raced back into the water, your stomach churning. Maybe it was the curiosity of wanting to know what he was going to say. Maybe it was the surprise that Quinn of all people couldn’t get his words out. Maybe you were still trying to navigate the weird shift in dynamic between you.

Or maybe it was because Quinn Hughes called you gorgeous and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

But, for what it was worth, you still slid his hoodie over your head when you got out of the water. Even if the shirt was dried by that point.

And you could’ve sworn you saw him smile when you did.

…

The third time was undeniable. You felt something for Quinn Hughes, and it was reciprocated.

It was another sleepless night. Something in the air felt different, like it had shifted. And now you were left alone in the quietness of the lakehouse somewhere in the early hours of the morning.

The days had started to blur into each other, passing in a happy daze as you basked in a summer spent with some of your closest friends. Today had been no different with made-up tournaments of pool and darts, tanning by the lake and drinks shared that put a hefty dent in the supply from the fridge.

You were buzzed and happy by the time you made your way to the room, finding yourself in Luke’s room before the boy eventually dozed off somewhere between your rambles of who could actively fight a horse-sized duck and the latest season of your favourite show you had been convincing him to watch. You had slid out of his room, heading towards your own room to settle down for the night.

But that restless feeling returned.

Instead, your steps lead you down the stairs and into the kitchen. You had propped yourself on the island, a glass of water sat beside you and your eyes focused on the window above the sink. It was quiet. So quiet. And some part of you resented it, that you were the only one awake right now.

But just like last time, you were quickly disproven of your assumption.

Your head turned when you heard footsteps approaching and, for a second, you thought maybe it was Luke. But the steps didn’t sound heavy enough to be his, and there was nothing in this world that could wake that boy from his slumber.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to find Quinn standing in the doorway instead.

He was dressed like he had just crawled out of bed. With grey sweatpants that laid low on his hips and a white shirt that clung onto every crevice and curve of his torso, he stood in the kitchen doorway with bleary eyes and a small frown on his face.

“Why are you still awake?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m starting to think you have insomnia or something,” he murmured, running a hand through the messy curls on his head, but it did little to tame them. Your lips twitched at the sight. “Or maybe I’ve just never noticed how shitty your sleep schedule was before.”

“Kick a girl when she’s down,” you mused playfully as you watched him lean against the frame. “Why are you awake right now? You look like you’re seconds from falling asleep.”

Quinn hummed in agreement. “I’m a light sleeper.”

Your brows furrowed together. “So?”

“So, I heard you thumping down the stairs and into the kitchen,” Quinn said, the corners of his lips lifting when he heard the noise that left your lips.

“Thumping?” You repeated with a scoff.

“Thumping,” he nodded in confirmation before pushing himself off the frame, closing the distance between the kitchen entrance and the kitchen counter you were currently sitting on. “You’re very heavy-footed.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that the next time we skate together,” you grumbled, your eyes glued on the oldest Hughes as he sleepily shuffled towards you. Your legs parted almost instantly as he settled between them, his hands on either side of you as he looked up at you with a slight hazed look on his face.

“You’d never catch me,” he murmured softly.

“Is that a challenge?” You retorted.

Quinn shook his head as he breathed out his nose. “Do you have to turn everything into a competition?”

“It makes things more fun,” you told him, painfully aware of how close you were. It wasn’t like the boat, there was no one else in the kitchen. Just you, Quinn and the accompanying silence of the lakehouse. You wondered if you should have felt guilty for enjoying it so much.

“I can think of a million other things that are more fun,” he countered, his head tilting to the side as he lifted his head to look at you.

A beat passed before you replied, “want to show me some?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes instantly dropped to your lips. You felt something deep in your stomach twist in delight, in satisfaction even. His eyes lingered there for one, two, three seconds before his eyes met yours again. They were darker, a little more awake than they were minutes ago when he shuffled into the kitchen. They made your chest feel tight.

“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice a little breathless and strained. “You’re Luke’s best friend.”

“And you’re Luke’s brother,” you countered. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I shouldn’t,” he insisted.

You leaned forward a little, your nose brushing against his. “But do you want to?”

There was a pause. It was brief and barely lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime passed between you both. You sat on the counter, Quinn standing in front of you, and the deafening silence that surrounded you both. It didn’t feel like you were in the kitchen, let alone the lakehouse. You were in your own little bubble, weighing up the consequences of what was about to happen.

And in that little bubble, every single one of them seemed worth it.

A small noise of surprise left you as Quinn leaned forward, his hands moving to cup the back of your head as he pressed his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace embarrassingly quick, your hands resting on his chest as you found your lips moving against his. It was hesitant and a little off-pace, like both of you were trying to figure out what you were doing.

And then he pulled away, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face but it was short-lasting before your hands were fisting his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

The kisses became more confident, more sure. His hands dropped from the back of your head, gliding down your back and resting on your hips before he was pulling you towards the edge of the counter. You wrapped your legs around his torso, your arms following suit around his neck and, fuck, who knew kissing Quinn Hughes could be so addictive?

“Shit,” you breathed out, your head falling back as his lips trailed along your jaw and down the column of your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, tickling and teasing and your legs tightened around him. “Quinn.”

“Sound pretty when you say my name,” his words vibrated against your skin, his hands tightening their grip.

“That feels good,” you whined, your body arching into him as his teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on the base of your neck. Your heart was beating against your ribs, the coil in your stomach was tightening as his hands teased the hem of your shirt and the painful realisation that it had been far too long since a guy had touched you made you eager to keep him close.

“Yeah?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice. “I make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Quinn,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he pulled away to look at you.

“Say it,” he said, his fingers squeezing your cheeks together when you tried to turn your head away.

“You make me feel good,” you whispered, a little breathless.

His chest moved with soft pants, his hooded eyes dropping down to your red, swollen lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

“Words, baby,” he murmured, his fingers squeezing your cheeks again as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I want you to be sure of what you’re doing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I wanna fuck you, Quinn, I’m not some stupid little kid anymore.”

“I never once thought you were,” he said simply, and before you even got the chance to reply, his lips were pressed against your again.

You didn’t remember much about the journey to Quinn’s room. All you knew was that he was strong—really fucking strong—which shouldn’t have surprised you for a professional athlete. But when he had the strength and control to pick you up with ease and walk up to his room on nothing but muscle memory as he made you whine and squirm in his grasp, you had to find it more than a little impressive.

Your back bounced against the mattress as you pulled him down, eager to feel the weight of him on top of you. You weren’t exactly what you felt for the oldest Hughes brother. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know.

But in that moment you wanted him. You wanted him on top of you. You wanted him inside of you. You wanted him in a way you had never wanted Quinn Hughes in your life, and maybe if you weren’t so lost in your own desperation to feel his skin against yours, it would have freaked you out.

But right now, your focus was on him.

Your clothes laid abandoned in a pile on his bedroom floor, right beside his sweatpants and shirt. His hands were all over you, touching you and stroking you and holding you. His lips trailed over your bare skin, desperate to kiss every fucking inch like his life depended on it.

And when you felt his curls tickling your skin, his beard scratching against your inner thighs and his nose nudging against your sensitive clit, your need to feel him inside you was almost unbearable.

“Please,” you cried out, your fists clenching the navy bed sheets beneath you as you squirmed under his grasp. “Quinn, I need—”

“I know what you need, honey,” he murmured, his lips and chin still wet with your arousal as he trailed kisses up your stomach and between your tits before his lips claimed yours. “Gonna give you what you want.”

The noises you let out were muffled by his lips against yours, his tongue teasing along your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. Whispered pants and soft praises were shared between heavy kisses as Quinn ripped open the foil, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered how good you were doing before he finally bottomed out inside of you.

Your experience with men in bed wasn’t large or extensive, but no one had ever treated you the way Quinn Hughes did. He was generous and caring. He was attentive and passionate. He was bigger than anyone you had ever slept with before. And even in the quiet hours of the lakehouse and the slow roll of his hips, he had you pressing your face into the pillows to muffle the noises you were making.

And much to your surprise, he held you against his chest when it was all over, rather than letting you slide out of bed and awkwardly scramble to leave the room.

“Quinn,” you started, your head tucked under his chin as his fingers trailed along your bare back.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

Quinn didn’t say anything for a few moments. “We’re just having fun,” he said eventually as his arms tightened around you. “Let’s just enjoy it, yeah? Don’t think about it too much.”

So, you didn’t. You just kept the million and one questions you had to yourself and enjoyed the feeling of falling asleep in the arms of Quinn Hughes.

…

The fourth time wasn’t even purposeful, it was more like chance—like fate.

The storm had taken you all by surprise. It was by no means a large storm, or particularly concerning. But it left the lake unassailable and most of the roads to the nearest town at risk of being flooded.

The weather warnings had been going off for the last twenty four hours. You could feel the storm approaching, you could feel it in the sticky, humid air that clung onto your skin like a second layer. The little sundress you had been wearing was doing little to combat the heat, especially with the additional fact that you were pretty sure the AC stopped working a few hours ago and the fans the boys had set up around the house were doing nothing but blowing hot air at you.

What wasn’t surprising was the lack of concern for the storm. It would pass in a few days, and none of the boys seemed particularly on edge at the fact the roads would be closed and they would essentially be trapped in the lakehouse for the next week or so.

Nobody but Quinn.

“I’m heading out to the store to stock up for the storm,” he announced as he entered the living room where the rest of the group had been sprawled over the couches, their attention focused on the tv screen displaying the video game they were currently playing. “Any of your assholes wanna help?”

Silence.

Quinn sighed loudly. “Should have seen that one coming.”

“I’ll join,” you said, not thinking twice as you stood up from your spot on the loveseat you were sharing with Luke.

The boy’s attention perked up the second you stood up, his brows furrowed together as he watched you saunter towards his brother. “You’re willingly going to the store with Quinn?”

You paused, your brows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“It’s over an hour away,” Luke said as you continued to stare blankly at you. “He’s going to bore you to death! He doesn't talk!”

Quinn scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Geez, thanks.”

“I’ll survive,” you assured him, ruffling his hair as you walked past him and towards the front door. “Plus, I’ll talk enough for the both of us.”

You felt like your heart was in your throat as you slipped your shoes on, waiting to hear the sound of Luke following you to the door. You expected to see him running towards you and Quinn, a frown on his lips as he muttered about coming to help because he would feel bad otherwise.

You tried not to think about how badly you didn’t want him to do that.

“We are leaving now!”

“Bye!” Jack called out from the living room.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Not a chance!” Luke called out this time.

You could barely bite back your grin as you quickly rushed out the house, making your way to the passenger side of Quinn’s truck. He didn’t say a word as he settled into the driver’s seat, key in the ignition and engine roaring to life as he reversed out the driveway and started the hour commute to the nearest grocery store.

“Okay, spill.”

You turned your head to face the boy, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. “Spill what?”

“What twin telepathy, voodoo magic you pulled back there,” Quinn said with a small snort of laughter. “The dude has been attached to your hip since you both were five. There was no way he just chose to stay back.”

“Maybe he’s finally getting sick of me after all these years,” you teased.

“Yeah, and I heard pigs were flying too,” he deadpanned.

You grinned. “Is there a reason you want to get me alone, Mr Hughes?”

His lips twitched upwards as he cast you a look. “I think it’s the same reason you were begging me to not stop last night in the—”

“Shut up!” Your cheeks burned, though you couldn’t help but laugh a little when he did too.

The journey to the store went smoothly. Despite Quinn’s insistence that he didn’t speed, you reached the grocery store in the next town over less than forty minutes after you left. You each took a trolley before ransacking the aisles, filling both carts up to the brim until you had enough to supply you through the zombie apocalypse.

Quinn swiped his card and you packed the groceries into the back of the truck.

And then, the rain started.

“Shit,” Quinn murmured, a frown on his face as he ducked his head down to watch the rain heavily pour down. “They said it wasn’t gonna start up until tonight.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to get back fine?” You asked, listening to the rain patter against the roof of the truck. “Maybe it will ease up.”

Quinn raised his brows. “It’s the start of the storm. It’s only gonna get worse.”

“You scared of a little rain?” You teased, gently nudging your elbow against his.

“It’s just stupid,” Quinn said with a shrug. “It’s a nuisance.”

“It’s fun if you let it be,” you retorted.

Quinn turned to face you in his seat, a look of amusement on his face as he leaned against the console. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve been around Luke too long. The brain cells are starting diminish as we speak—”

“Fuck off,” you laughed with a shake of your head. “See, this is what I mean. You’re the grumpy cat.”

“And what about me is so grumpy cat right now?” Quinn questioned.

“You’re a rain buzzkiller,” you stated simply.

Quinn tried to fight the grin growing on his face. “And what would someone who’s not a rain buzzkiller be like?”

He waited for your reply. He waited for you to come back with some witty retort that would piss him off and thrill him all at once. He waited for you to say something that made him want to roll his eyes and kiss you all at once.

He waited, but instead he saw your hand reaching for the door handle and his eyes widened in realisation.

“Baby—”

But you were already jumping out of the car.

It was just instinctive for him to jump out and follow. He was soaked in seconds, the rain still heavy and unforgiving and it almost made it difficult to see you, despite only being a few feet in front of him. He opened his mouth, ready to yell at you for being so reckless and to get back into the car, only to stop short when he heard you laugh.

“Come on, Huggy!” You called out to the boy, your arms extended out to the side as you tilted your head back up to the rain. “Don’t be a buzzkill!”

“You’re insane!” He called back.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you laughed as you reached out for him. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

“We are going to get sick!”

“Oh well!” You laughed, palm facing the sky as you grinned at him through the heavy rain.

Quinn stared at you, a noise of disbelief leaving his own mouth as he took your hand and let you tug him towards you. Your arms seamlessly wrapped around his neck, just as his hands fell to your waist. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile that grew on his face as you both began to sway back and forth in the rain.

“Isn’t this fun?”

Quinn shook his head, not bothering to answer as he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. Your arms tightened around him, a small moan leaving your lips as he pressed your body against his own. You were both soaked to the bone, clothes clinging onto you but that was the least of your concerns.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you murmured against his lips.

“You take it as whatever you want, baby,” he murmured back before he leaned down for another kiss.

The upcoming storm and truck full of groceries were the last thing on your mind when you were kissing Quinn Hughes in the rain.

…

The fifth time hurt like a bitch.

There was no sugar-coating. There was no exaggerations. There were no molehills made into mountains.

It just fucking hurt and there was no way for you to get around that.

After the storm had gone and passed, the group were eager to get back out into the world they were cut off from for the week. It had been Trevor’s idea to have a night out in the next town over. To have an excuse to dress up and head to one of the bars, enjoy the vibe of live music and chatty bartenders and friendly locals.

And that was exactly what you all had done.

You dressed up. You booked the taxis to the bar. You did a round of shots. You made friends with strangers. You danced and laughed and sang along with the band playing on the small, makeshift stage. You ordered fruity cocktails that you missed during your stay at the lakehouse. You were having fun.

And then you saw it.

Logically, you knew you didn’t have any reason to really be pissed. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t his girlfriend. There had never really been a talk of exclusivity, but you thought that much had been obvious since you had spent most of your time at the lakehouse. There were no labels, no promises, no rules. You knew that. Of course you fucking knew that.

But it didn’t make the sight hurt any less.

Quinn was leaning against the bar, a wide smile painted on his face as he chatted away to some blonde girl who was all but saddled up next to his side. He was laughing and talking animatedly and just…it hurt.

It hurt because it reminded you that you were in no place to feel hurt. It hurt because you realised nobody else would understand the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It hurt because the summer had shown you a new side of Quinn Hughes, and now you had lost him before you had even really had him.

“Hey, you good?” Trevor questioned as he threw his arm over you, bringing you close to his side.

“Hm? Yeah, just…think I drank too much,” you said as you dismissively waved your hand. You tore your eyes away from where Quinn stood at the bar and smiled softly up at the blond. “I think I might head back. I’m not feeling it anymore.”

“You sure?” Trevor frowned. “We can get you some water or—”

“I think I just need my bed,” you smiled sheepishly. “It’s fine. I can go by myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor scoffed before his head darted up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to glance around the bar for someone in particular. “Where the fuck is Baby Hughes?”

“Trevor—” You started, but the boy wasn’t having it.

“Huggy! Have you seen your little brother anywhere?” Trevor called out to the oldest Hughes, and you wanted the world to swallow you whole right there and then.

Quinn looked at you and then Trevor. His eyes glanced at the arm still comfortably wrapped around your shoulder, the way you were tucked into his side. For a moment, you thought he was jealous.

“No, why?” He asked, his face remaining mostly blank. “Is something wrong?”

“Lady Hughes wants to head back to the lakehouse,” Trevor informed him.

Your nose scrunched up. “Lady Hughes?”

“You’re a lady and basically a Hughes,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It works.”

You snorted.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, stepping away from the blonde at the bar as his eyes glanced over you.

“Peachy,” you replied with a strained smile that only made his concern grow. “Look, it’s fine. I’m gonna order an uber and head back to the house. I’ll be fine.”

It should have been fine. You messaged Luke that you were heading back early. You had ordered an uber and Trevor insisted that he would wait outside with you until it arrived. It should have been fine.

Except the boy had the bladder of a squirrel when he was drunk and was running back inside to go to the bathroom, promising he would be quick, and giving the oldest Hughes brother an opening to step outside the bar with you.

Alone.

“What’s really wrong? You hardly drank anything,” Quinn said, his arms crossed over his chest and his worry evident in his voice. And something about it just pissed you off more. Something about his concern for you just made the sight of the blonde under his arm sting a little more, like salt in the wound.

“I’m just not feeling it, okay?” Your response was snappy, and maybe if you weren’t two shots and a cocktail down, you would have felt bad.

“Woah,” Quinn scoffed and shook his head. “Sorry for caring.”

And then the word vomit really started. “Do you really care?”

The defenceman frowned. “What?”

“Do you really care, Quinn? Because it didn’t look like you cared about much inside there other than the blonde you have been chatting up all night,” you commented coldly.

Quinn stared at you in disbelief. “Is this what this is about? You’re going back to the house because you’re jealous I’m not paying attention to you all night?”

You scoffed. “Oh wow.”

“Am I wrong?” He snapped back at you.

“Yes! Deeply so,” you gritted through clenched teeth, and you hated the way your eyes watered with tears of frustration. You didn’t want to cry, and certainly not in front of him. “I just thought—”

“You thought what?” Quinn questioned, his hands now resting on his hips.

“I thought what we had was worth a little more,” you eventually spat out, with every ounce of self-control working to keep your voice from sounding too shaky. “That maybe you’d have a little more decency than to just flirt with some girl right in front of me.”

“We aren’t dating,” was his only response.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied bitterly as the car you ordered pulled up beside you. You reached for the handle, already hating yourself a little more when you felt a tear run down your cheek. “I just made the mistake of thinking you were a decent fucking human though.”

He called out your name but you didn’t give him a chance to respond as you slid into the backseat of the uber car, slamming the car door shut and letting the tears fall as the driver pulled away from the sidewalk where Quinn still stood.

…

The one time you two acknowledged the mess between you was the start of a new chapter in your life, the start of Quinn Hughes playing a predominant and recurring role for the first time ever.

It was the following day after the night at the bar. The boys had returned somewhere after three in the morning, after the bar had presumably closed and they had been kicked out. You heard them coming in, heard their drunken giggles and horribly loud hushed voices. But you didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay in bed and listen as they all scrambled off to their own rooms.

Your sleep had been shit. Your thoughts had been running wild. And by the time the first rays of light were starting to peek through your curtains, you dragged yourself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. You found the biggest mug you could find, filled it to the brim with coffee and made your way to the pier outside.

It had been quiet, serene even. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, painting the sky in different shades of orange, pink and blue. The birds were chirping, the wind was breezing in the early morning chill and it should have been perfect.

But it wasn’t.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that he followed you out to the pier. Quinn Hughes seemed to have a nab for knowing when you wanted to break the serenity and silence of a moment.

You didn’t say a word to him, you didn’t even turn to look at him as he settled in the spot next to you and stared at calm water in front of you. You stayed locked in the silence, letting the sounds of branches rustling and distant boat motors accompany the quietness between you.

It made you want to scream.

And then, he spoke.

“Nothing happened between me and the blonde.”

You didn’t say anything, but it seemed like Quinn wasn’t waiting to hear your response. Instead, he continued talking. He sounded frazzled, like the words were pouring out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them.

“It wasn’t—” he paused, shaking his head. “It couldn’t even be like that even if I wanted it to. You asked if I cared yesterday, but do you wanna know the truth?”

You remained silent.

“The truth is that ever since the night at the fire pit, you’ve been stuck in my head. You’ve been stuck in my head and no matter what I do, I can’t fucking seem to make it stop.” He let out a dry, humourless laugh. “You’re my baby brother’s best friend. I shouldn’t be fucking thinking about you like that.”

Quinn shook his head. “But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop watching you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I kissed you, and I knew I was fucked. Absolutely fucked because now I wanted the one thing I shouldn’t be allowed to have, so I fucking panicked and told you it was nothing because if I told you, then maybe I could trick myself too.”

You finally turned your head to look at the boy, the conflict and doubts clear in your eyes but Quinn seemed to have a knack at reading you better than most people.

“Baby, I couldn’t stop caring about you even if I tried,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little as he flashed you a sad smile. “We aren’t dating. We never were. But maybe it just scared me how much I…wouldn’t mind if we were, or we had, or—” He shook his head. “I was a dickhead yesterday and I’m sorry.”

“You were,” you said and something in his chest eased from just hearing your voice. “But I was a bit of a brat too. I should have—”

“We were both idiots,” Quinn murmured before laughing softly. “Like, really fucking dumb. But I know I care about you. And not just in a ‘we are sleeping together’ kind of way. I care about you more than that.”

You wanted to say you felt the same way. You wanted to tell him the way your stomach flipped whenever he touched you. You wanted to tell him the way your heart stuttered when he smiled at you. You wanted to tell him you were addicted to his touch and obsessed with his kisses.

But all that came out was, “what about Luke?”

Quinn’s brows furrowed together slightly in thought. “We don’t have to tell him. Not yet, at least.” He said, hesitating for a short moment before he extended his hand out to you, palm facing the sky. “How about we just try us for a little bit?”

Your lips twitched upwards. “And what is us?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” he assured you. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Your boyfriend, your boy toy, your sugar daddy—” He laughed when you playfully shoved him. “I mean it.”

“Boyfriend has a nice ring to it,” you admitted in a shy voice, your eyes on the water below your feet.

Quinn grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back as you finally turned to look at him. You glanced down at his hand before taking it, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing softly. “I want to try us.”

“Then we’ll try us,” he murmured before leaning forward to capture your lips against his.

And somewhere, deep down inside you, you knew it was wrong to keep it hidden from Luke. He was your best friend. He was your person. He was Quinn’s brother. He deserved to know.

But maybe you also deserved to keep a secret or two from Luke. Maybe he didn’t have to know every single detail about your life. Maybe you deserved to have some fun.

Maybe you deserved to give Quinn Hughes a standing chance, just you and him and whatever the fuck ‘us’ would lead to.

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fyorina · 2 months

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ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already taken the Colonel’s place as an executive—a shame, really, the Colonel was always your favorite of Mori’s five executives, he always brought you gifts when he came to visit you in Kyoto. But he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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curtsycream · 3 months

Note

hiiiii

i saw your requests are open

Can you do poly price x reader x simon where they all get into an argument (Reader is lonely while they're deployed, she's not getting on their case, just expressing it) and the boys get really defensive and take it a little too far, resulting in reader staying in the guest bedroom for the night bc she doesn't wanna cry in bed next to them. The boys come to their senses and realize they fucked up and there's make up sex? Lots of reassurance and whispers of how much they love you?

Feel free to ignore, just figured I'd pop in :)

Could You Understand?

John Price x F!Reader x Simon Riley

My first COD request I hope I did right. I’m still getting down their personalities and such in writing but it’s a fun challenge. Kinda base level smut. Ps. Would never ignore ❤️

warning: mentions of anxiety (described?), light stomach bulging (I mention it twice I have a problem), double penetration, not proofread at all

Confrontation was never a strong point for her, the idea of accidentally starting a conflict made her cautious with her words. Nibbling at her lower lip she adds the final dish to the washer before closing it. Turning it on she leans against the counter with folded arms. Many times has this feeling of loneliness crossed her mind. Whenever they were gone it was a constant reminder of the fear she felt. She always found herself holding back the words. But it was as if a dam finally broke and she couldn’t help but let them spill.

Making her way into the living room she wraps her arms around herself. It was a first defense similar to showing a dog that you’re not a threat. Her eyes fall onto the two men she loved with all of her being. They sat together with the television on but it was clear they weren’t entirely focused on it. They spoke in rushed tones as if forgetting the rule of leaving work at work. It wasn’t much but it was enough to ensure they wouldn’t dwell on work-related stuff.

Clearing her throat she realized just how hard it was to speak up. It was an odd feeling as she usually found herself talking without much of an issue. When they turned to look at her the words felt stuck, unable to claw their way out of her throat. “We need to talk,” she finally uttered. The words felt hard and cold when she said them.

John was the first to speak though the way his eyebrows creased seemed to verify his confusion. “About what, sweetheart?”

The gruffness of his voice was enough to make her hold the subject off. To instead crawl into his lap and give him a kiss or two. But she knew that wouldn’t solve anything let alone reassure her.

Simon on the other hand said nothing but his eyes were focused on her. And that was enough, it was always the simple things with him. His attention was always undivided, “well..I’ve been thinking a lot while you were both deployed. I just feel alone, you know? It terrifies me knowing you’re both out there and not knowing if that’s the mission that will end with me living my life without you. I—I’ve spent so many nights worried about how or if you’ll make it back to me. Maybe I’m just thinking too much on this but I can’t help but think that way. It’s like my brain won’t allow me to think positively. Like there’s this sense of impending doom when nothing bad is really happening,” she explained.

It was silent for a moment that is until Simon scoffed, the sound seemed to echo in her mind. “And you think it’s any easier on our end having to leave you here? It’s not a friendly thought knowing we’re miles away while you’re here by yourself,” his tone was defensive. It was as if he assumed her words were to evoke a change or start an argument.

“I’m not denying that Simon, I just get so worried that-”

“We understand that you get worried sweetheart, but we can’t change our profession. We spend just as many nights worrying about whether we’ll make it back or not. We have to live through that not you,” John spoke up.

Whether he meant to or not his words seemed to cut her deeper. It was as if her attempt at getting through to them was blocked off by their defense. “I know I don’t have to live through that, but it still worries me when you leave this house. I feel so helpless for lack of a better word when I know you’re miles away and I can’t help.”

Simon shook his head, “how would you even help? You can’t help, you can barely help yourself.”

His words were sharp like that of a knife willingly piercing her heart. Maybe that’s why it hurts more hearing words like that from someone you love.

“I’m not trying to argue with either of you, I wanted to get my point across,” she said simply.

“Then why even bring this up, you always dance around what you’re feeling. We’re not mind readers, there is only so much we can do when you won’t even say what you feel. It’s exhausting,” The words left John's mouth without much of a thought.

Opening her mouth she closes it, her eyes flashing with hurt from their words. “I know you’re both probably just tired from your mission and that’s why you’re acting like this. Just forget I said anything,” she tells them.

She had walked away quicker than she meant to not wanting to say another word to them. She knew deep down if she had she would have started crying.

Placing her hands on her chest she holds back the tears that are brimming in her eyes. She holds off until she makes it into their guest room upstairs. The second she closes the door she lets out a low sob. Sitting down on the bed she wraps her arms back around herself. It was a horrible feeling as if she’d been yelled at. Having people you love downplay your emotions when you finally speak upon them.

Lying down on the bed she curls up her arms still wrapped around her. It was as if she was protecting herself from what was already done. Sobs racking her body as she found no use in calming down.

It wasn’t until they made their way upstairs later into the night that they realized. Simon assumed she would be in bed, their bed. Yet the absence of her presence in the room was like a punch to the gut. His eyes found John’s in the darkness as they stood in the space.

They didn’t have to think before they made their way towards the guest room. The door ajar allowing John to slowly push it open. There she was in the middle of the guest bed curled up. She looked smaller than she should have as if closing in on herself.

John to a step forward which turned into a few then a few more before he was sitting on the bed beside her. His hand cupping her cheek, wet with tears, “Sweetheart..” The utterances of the pet name seemed to work as her eyes opened slowly. Groggy from crying so much as well as sleep she stared at him. It was easy to tell that was what she was doing in the darkness. The tears not yet split made that easy to notice.

With crossed arms, Simon makes his way over to him, “We shouldn’t have—I should have said those things to you.”

She seemed to perk up, it was a first for Simon to say something like that. Not that she expected him to do so often but it was refreshing. “It’s fi-“

“It’s not fine, the things we said to you were uncalled for. You didn’t deserve any of that especially when all you wanted to do was express your feelings. We took our frustration from the mission out on you,” John told her. His thumb caressed her cheek a touch she leaned into without hesitation.

“You do so much for us even when you don’t think you do. Most don’t expect to be greeted at home with a smile and a warm meal. You do everything you can to make sure we’re okay. It’s time we do the same,” Simon says.

Sitting up a bit she looks between the two men with a puzzled look. She didn’t catch on until she had John’s lips on her own. The smell of tobacco and pinewood was strong as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was comforting yet sensual as she felt Ghost behind her. His lips feverishly trailing kisses along her neck and shoulders.

Her mind seemed to move slower than her actions which was evident when she found herself naked between them. Her hands rested on John’s chest as he lined himself up with her sopping-wet hole. Eager wouldn’t describe what she was feeling especially when he finally thrusted into her. He was always attentive and careful at first, “how’s that feel, sweetheart?”

The words didn’t come but a simple nod followed by a moan was enough for him. Resting his hands on her hips he set a slow and steady pace. One that seemed to draw on the moans leaving her body. “Still so tight for me,” he grunted against her warm skin.

The gentle touch along her spine was enough to remind her of Simon’s presence. The way he was looking down at her caused her to squeeze around John’s cock. A swear left the older man’s lips due to the feeling. Keeping her eyes on Simon she spoke up, “want to feel you both..”

It was new territory something she hadn’t done before. But she wanted to be closer to them in a way soft touches wouldn’t do. “Are you sure, lovie?”

She nodded her head right away at Simon’s words as he seemed to be silently communicating with John. Looking between them she waited for an answer as John continued to thrust in and out of her.

“Okay.”

That was all Simon needed to say before she leaned against John. Her arms were around his neck while her fingers curled around the hair at the base of his neck. Simon held her hip as he pumped himself in his hand before lining himself up with her stuffed hole. It was already a tight fit with John’s cock inside. Willing himself forward he groaned when his cock began to slide inside of her pussy.

Digging her nails into John’s back she muffled her noises on his shoulder. “That’s it sweetheart, such a good girl wanting to take both of us.”

John’s words seemed to calm her down as she felt him pull out some to allow Simon room to fit. She wasn’t fully prepared when she felt both of them inside of her. Neither of them moved, letting her adjust to the new feeling. Resting her hand on her stomach she moved it a bit lower feeling the bulge there. The subtle reminder of just how big John was in girth.

“Oh—please move..” her voice was a gasp barely above a whisper. She had never felt so full before, but oh did it feel perfectly right. Moving his hands up to cup her breasts Simon thrusted into her. At the same time, John pulled out before slamming himself back in.

Groaning from the feeling of John’s cock rubbing against his own as her pussy squeezed them tightly left Simon on edge. “Feels so good,” he breathed the words out.

Her mouth opened letting out a flurry of moans as their paces varied. While John was moving steadily, Simon’s pace was almost erratic. “Fuck—just like that,” she begged no one in particular.

Yet her words seemed to set both men off as they moved in tandem. Their pace seeming to match both went faster pistoning their cocks in and out of her. “So good for us lovie, always so good for us.”

The words of affection caused her to whimper before she felt his lips on hers. The kiss was dragged out and slow only fueled by John’s lips on her throat. The light prickles of his beard on her skin were comforting in a way. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Always so caring and sweet for the both of us,” John’s voice vibrated against her soft skin.

She knew she wouldn’t last long from their affectionate words to their unyielding thrusts. Breaking the kiss between herself and Simon she whines, “So close, please.”

“Please what, lovie?”

The teasing tone he took on made her clench around their cocks. The action caused both men to groan as their cocks rubbed against her gummy walls. “Please let me cum, I’ll be good..”

“You’re always good, sweetheart,” John assured.

“Go ahead, lovie.”

She didn’t need to hear more as her eyes screwed shut. Her mind felt fuzzy as the warmth in her lower stomach began to spread. Gripping John’s shoulders she let out a cry as she came around their cocks with a tremble. However, they didn’t stop not yet at least as they were chasing their highs. To her, it felt like minutes but it only took seconds before they reached their own. Gripping her hips firmly John thrusted his hips up before releasing inside of her. Simon wasn’t too far behind as his cum mixed with that of John’s and hers.

Sighing breathlessly she shifted her eyes to the bulge in her stomach she had forgotten about. She could still see the outline of John’s cock against her lower stomach. But it didn’t last long as she felt both men pull out of her. Leaning back on Simon she watched as John left the room. Her eyes were concentrated on his back before they trailed to Simon.

“Lovie I-“

Shaking her head she leans up her lips pressed against his shoulder. “I’m fine, I guess I just worry a lot when you’re both not here. It’s scary to think something can happen on a mission and I wouldn’t know for a while until the mission ends.”

Simon noticed how shaky her voice was as if the thought of them getting hurt lingered in her mind. Placing his hands on her cheeks he leaned forward until his nose was touching hers. “It is scary, I couldn’t imagine having to stay home and wait for us to return. But I can promise you this, with everything in us we will always try our hardest to get back home to you. That’s how much you mean to us,” his words melted into her mind.

Keeping her eyes focused on his own she nodded her head, “I know you guys will. You always do and I’m grateful for that.”

“And we’re grateful for you,” John chimed in as he walked back into the room. He went straight to her using the towel in his hand to clean her up before pressing a kiss to her stomach. “We will always be grateful for you, I couldn’t picture myself loving anyone else besides the two of you.”

It was comforting to hear words like that from the men she loved. “I love you,” she said her words directed to both men. Pulling her close Simon kisses her forehead as he lays behind her. In front of her was John who also delivered a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to tell us when you’re worried or scared. We promise to think before we speak,” John’s words reassured her.

The same way that Simon’s touch did as his thumb rubbed her hip. “I love you, now get some sleep it’s almost four in the morning.”

That was all it took before she was closing her eyes allowing the feeling of both men beside her to lull her to sleep. She felt safe and protected between them, no longer as fearful as she was before.

#poly!reader #x reader #fluff #poly fanfic #cod 141 #cod smut #cod x reader #john price #price x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #simon riley smut #john price smut #ghost smut #captain price smut #poly 141

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fuckaperioddrama · 1 month

Text

Blaise Zabini Headcanons

Author’s Note: I've grown to love Blaise. I will write one for Draco and maybe Tom, but I have some other stuff I want to write first. My drafts are filling up.

Proofread, but there's ALWAYS mistakes. Ugh.

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcanons

Tom Riddle Headcanons

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

Masterlist

Minors DNI | 18+

___

Blaise Zabini | Physique

6’2 - 6’3 | Same height as Mattheo

Lean build and naturally athletic. Very toned.

His V line??? No words.

He gives me major jock vibes in terms of how he looks.

I feel like he also looks super clean?

I don't know if that makes sense. Like skin glowing, clothes freshly pressed, very clean and nice hands. He looks like someone who has their life together.

Resting bitch face. Always looks uninterested and unamused.

Besides that, he has a really nice smile. It changes his whole aura.

Really nice teeth. When he smiles, your eyes are immediately drawn to his mouth.

His smile is just so warm and comforting.

He's really pretty?

Intimidatingly pretty, it's like he doesn't have a single bad feature.

Blaise Zabini | Personality

The best one in the group. Genuinely. Still has asshole tendencies, but there's no doubt that he's the nicest one.

He was raised by a strong woman and never had a consistent father figure in his life.

While this left its scars, it made him into someone who really respects women and their opinions.

Unlike his friends, he doesn’t see them as pieces of meat.

He has a lot of different friend groups. He hangs out mostly with the boys, but he’ll make an appearance in the other groups from time to time.

He's not friendly, but he's polite. He won't approach a random person, but if they approach him he won't brush them off.

They never get much out of him. He’s very short, not trying to carry the conversation and uninterested.

The people who don't know him think he's just like that and the people who do know him know he's hinting that he wants them to go away.

Judgemental and stubborn.

He has his way of doing things and if you do it differently then he thinks you're annoying. He doesn't get mad, just agitated.

He won't always say what's on his mind, but he'll show it through his facial expressions.

He's so funny. He has this big tough guy exterior, but he can be so sassy.

Draco will walk out in a new suit he just bought

Cost me quite a lot. I look good don't I?

Blaise will just lightly screw his face up in distaste.

Mm.

He doesnt even have to say anyting to be a bitch.

Don't ever cross him. He will make you regret every life decision you ever made.

He's so observant, he notices everything. He picks up on every mistake, every insecurity, and will point them out just to get back at someone.

Seriously. He will bring you to tears if you piss him off.

But when he's really hurt by someone or something he becomes very stoic. He will never break down in private, but never in public.

Nervous breakdown in the closet, tears, snot, the whole lot. Then he’ll walk out looking completely fine.

He is really good at putting himself together in a pinch.

Will NEVER speak up when he's suffering and he hates it when people know about the things he's going through.

A bit of a loner, but like Theo he makes appearances at parties and big events because he's from a good family. He feels like it’s expected of him.

He's an unintentionally social person. People just start talking to him out of nowhere and he lets them.

Mainly because he likes to know stuff about people.

Blaise wants the tea. He wants to know who did what and why they did it.

He and Draco have a little debrief each week to talk shit. He would never miss it.

A keeper in Quidditch

Once again, all of the boys smoke some weed from time to time. Blaise partakes in both alcohol and weed equally.

Definitely a dark liquor man

Pretty pretentious when it comes to alcohol. He hasn't even tried the cheap stuff. Never will.

He travels to distilleries to handpick his own bottles and barrels. Knows a lot about how to make whiskey, bourbon, etc. It's a little fun fact about him. | I know this is so random, but I feel like this just suits him???

Blaise Zabini | Casanova

Blaise is a pretty straightforward person.

He's not really classified as a manwhore, but he also doesn't believe in celibacy either.

He hooks up every now and then. At least 1-2 girls a month. It's very casual.

There's not a lot of buildup. He doesn't spend days pursuing these women. It's usually 2 hours or 10 minutes.

He decides he wants sex and finds a girl he thinks is attractive.

Has NEVER been turned down. It's crazy. He can talk up anyone. Such a smooth talker.

Blaise doesn’t fuck, he makes love.

He he pays attention to how their body reacts and quickly learns how to please them.

He's slow and passionate. Loves missionary.

But there's not a lot of emotion on his part. Not very vocal either.

He likes to touch and feel, he's not wasting time on words.

Aftercare is average but it’s there which is more than I can say for any of the other boys.

He'll clean them up afterwards and then place a joint in his mouth while he pours himself and them glass of whiskey. Wanna smoke?

If the they reach out to him then he'd be down to have sex again maybe, but he doesn't reach out to anyone after they hook up. He always finds a different person.

He has a three and done rule for the people he does see again. Will never hook up with a single person more than three times because he doesn't want to catch feelings or vice versa.

Doesn't date. That's it. He makes it very clear to everyone around him that he isn't a relationship person. He doesn’t lead anyone on and is very blunt about his intentions.

He says he has no interest in it, but deep down he’s really afraid of intimacy and vulnerability.

He’s got commitment issues

Blaise Zabini | Friend

Closest to Theo and Draco. They’re on the same level.

Second closest to Tom. He and Tom are the ones who sit back and watch the chaos unfold.

More so Tom because Blaise will usually end up putting a stop to it eventually.

Blaise is the glue that holds everyone together. They would genuinely fall apart without him.

He is the only person who can boss them around. No one gets it, but they just listen to Blaise?

Blaise doesn’t talk much, even around the boys. So when he does talk people have to pay attention. His voice is very deep and naturally assertive. He can silence a room with one word.

Blaise really helps the boys grow.

Blaise makes them better people because he has the most empathy.

Instead of taking his pain and turning it into anger, he turned it into understanding. He really tries to see everyone’s perspective and why they do what they do.

Whenever the boys get into arguments and are so wrapped up in their own pride Blaise is the one to remind them to think about how the other person feels.

Devil's Advocate. Usually a middle man. It’s rare he’s involved in confrontations.

The boys don't take care of Blaise in return because he won't give any indication he needs taken care of.

Except Theo. He knows Blaise doesn’t want to talk about what he’s going through, but he notices the difference in his demeanor. It's because they are very similar in how they handle their feelings.

It’s hard for Blaise to let loose and have fun. He’s usually very serious, but the boys are able to coax it out of him.

When Blaise does let loose he goes wild.

The most drunk, the most high, and he is running in every direction causing the most chaos. The boys are shocked each and every time and without fail always bring it up whenever they hang out.

Three months after the incident they’re all sitting in the common room and Lorenzo speaks up.

Hey Blaise? Remember when you got drunk and almost went home with that 70 year ol-

Remember when you knew how to shut the fuck up?

Blaise Zabini | Boyfriend

Gentle

He's so tender and sweet with you.

Blaise never yells at you. Ever.

I feel like Blaise also has this protector/provider mindset. He spent most of his life taking care of his mom and making promises to her that he would never turn out like the men she married. The men she had to get rid of.

It's part of the reason why it took him so long to let himself fall in love. He felt a lot of pressure to get it right and make his mom proud.

Blaise isn't big on PDA. He thinks it’s showy and unnecessary, he'd much rather show his affections in private. Physical Touch

Blaise still likes to keep you close to him despite not being big on PDA. Like Mattheo he finds comfort in knowing you're safe. But Blaise won't reach out to touch you, he’ll just make sure he's in your space.

Letting your legs touch as you sit together, walking so close through the hallways that your hands graze with each sway of your arm, standing directly behind you so much so that your back is pressed flush against his chest.

You always know he's there.

Then there's private touches.

He'll send you a note to meet him in the Room of Requirement after class.

The second your foot steps into the room you're pulled into his embrace. You feel the weight of his shoulders melt away as he slumps into your touch. Pulling back he traces his finger tips up your arm, moving past your shoulder and neck before gently cupping your face in his hands. He doesn't say anything, just staring at you while his eyes scan every feature from the tip of your hairline from the bottom of your chin.

Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm okay. He mutteres pushing his face down and connecting his lips to yours. I just missed you.

When you're standing in the hallway he'll softly squeeze your hip for a couple of seconds to announce his presence.

Sometimes when you're walking with the group he'll grab your wrist and hold you back while the others keep going. Before you can even question it you feel his lips press against yours.

He smiles at you and you two bask in the couple seconds of tenderness hidden from the rest of the group.

Blaise doesn't feel the need to announce his love to everyone, just the one that matters. You.

He mainly shows his love through spending time with you and doing things he believes will make your life easier. Quality Time and Acts of Service

Blaise enjoys his alone time and will never hang out with someone unless he genuinely wants to.

You realize how much Blaise cares about you because he invites you to do the things he usually does by himself.

Sitting at the black lake to think, walking around Hogsmeade when he thinks too much, lounging in his room, savoring his drink and letting his breath calm with each exhale of his joint.

Blaise wants you there. Even when you're both not talking, he finds comfort in your presence.

He likes to take you to out as well. Blaise might take you out to an arcade, amusement park, or something fun every once in a while, but usually it's the more luxurious stuff. Wine tastings, fancy dinners, well hidden speakeasies. He always knows the best spots and he gets so excited to show them to you.

I feel like Blaise is a bit of a food snob and that would go over into your meals together.

He takes time explaining which wines go with which dish and he knows the backstory of the chef and where they got their training. He'll explain how to eat certain things in order to experience the most flavor. He can go on and on about it and you just let him because Blaise doesn't get excited about much. It's nice to hear him go on a rant every once in a while.

And while at these dinners Blaise is the perfect gentleman.

Pulls out your chair, holds the door for you, pays for everything.

Blaise prefers to be the one who pays, but he'd let you if you asked to. He likes to tease you about it if ever you end up paying. He'll wink at you before saying,

Thank you for dinner, my love. Now let me take care of dessert.

Blaise also likes to take care of you by making sure everything is pristine. I feel like he likes to stay clean and organized, so in turn he'll help you stay clean and organized.

Tidying up your room, organizing your desk, and if you have some items that are in disarray he'll replace them with newer versions.

It can start some small arguments if you're someone who prefers things a little messy.

Blaise, I don't need new shoes.

Yes, you do. Look! Theres a little hole right there.

I like the hole! I like how messy they look!

But WHY??

Then one day you come back to find brand new a box under your shoes. Rolling your eyes you put the fresher pair before heading out for the day.

Blaise sees you and instantly breaks out into a smile.

They're just going to get ruined like the last pair.

Then I'll go out again and buy you some more.

Gift Giving

Blaise likes to match.

I hate matching couple stuff, but it makes sense for him.

He buys you guys matching rings, matching shoes, necklaces.

If he goes out to buy himself a suit then he's getting you a dress that goes with it. Double of every shirt, every jacket, sweater.

He'll buy you a set of lacey blue lingerie and surprise you with a pair of briefs the exact same color. So we can be equally sexy.

Blaise is also a flower guy, but he likes to put together his own bouquets. Not himself, but he hand picks everything. He won't go to a florist and buy the bouquets on display. You're too special for that. He hand picks the best flowers, and takes time thinking about which ones will go best together.

He spends months planning out gifts for birthdays, Valentine's Day, anniversaries, etc.

Blaise makes a note of everything you like. I think he actually has a little piece of paper where he writes a whole bunch of potential gift ideas and information about you.

A dress you said you wanted, if you like gold or silver jewelry, favorite foods, flowers, etc. Sometimes when he's stumped he'll reference the list so he's able to put together presents for you.

Blaise also likes to write letters to you. Words of Affirmation.

It's easier for him to put it on a piece of paper rather than say it aloud.

You'll find little notes of encouragement in your bag before a test.

Notes telling you he loves you that he spelled to end up in your pocket.

He also includes letters in the gifts he gives you. Every single one to add his own personal touch to whatever he buys.

"I know I'm not a man of many words. Even though I've grown comfortable in my silence, I've still never found myself unable to articulate my thoughts into words. I've always been the type of person who was quick witted and knew the right things to say. But with you? With you all of my thoughts fade. You've driven me to stupidity. A silent idiot who can think of nothing more than how much I care for you. How much I love you. It may be hard for you to understand why I can't say this aloud very often. I can barely understand it myself. Just know that my love for you is always there. Even when my body falls, my love will live everywhere. The spot where we first kissed, first danced, or had our first date. Each of these places will hold our memories and our love. It'll make us infinite. Then we will live again and again and I get to fall in love with the best part of me over and over for the rest of all of our lives.

Happy anniversary, my love. I look forward to each and every one.

-Blaise"

Blaise Zabini | Committed Lover

Once again, Blaise doesn't fuck. He makes love.

He takes his time. Kissing you slowly, moaning as tongue slips into your mouth and his hands move to your shirt.

One by one he pops each button, taking his time to let his hands wander once your shirt is fully opened.

He doesn't want to rush, especially with you.

Like Mattheo, Blaise just enjoys the act of pleasing you.

He will spend ages tasting you, feeling you, bringing you to immense pleasure every single time.

He needs to make you cum at least 3-4 times before he even considers himself.

And then he'll lay you down gently, looking into your eyes as he gently brushes the hair out of your face. You're perfect.

He reaches down and grabs ahold of his length, moving it through your folds before positioning himself at your entrance. His eyes stay on you, looking for any signs of discomfort. Is this alright? Are you okay?

Blaise's number one priority is to make sure you enjoy sex the entire time.

Blaise is far from vanilla though. In fact?

...Blaise LOVES to be dominated

A SUB!!!!

When he's on top he doesn't talk a lot, even with you. It’s just a lot of moans and sighs. His main focus is on the feeling of it all and making sure you’re okay.

When he's a bottom???

VOCAL!! SO VOCAL!!

How does it feel pretty boy?

Ahhh! AH! I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Please fuck me! I'll be good! I promise!!

I don't know, Blaise. Only good boys get to fuck me. Do you think you were being a good boy?

Blaise had an attitude with you earlier. He was having a bad day and rolled his eyes at you when you asked him a question. You don't even remember what you asked. You just remember the look on Blaise's face when you raised your eyebrows at him. He knew he shouldn't have done that.

Now he was held down, your tie comfortably around his wrists as his arms were positioned to stay above his head. Your hand was wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly. Too slow.

I'm a good boy! Fuck! I'm your good boy! I'll never do it again! Just plea-Oooooooh fuck.

You had your back turned to him, ass in his face as you pushed yourself down on his long, hard cock. You began to bounce, going to his tip and dropping down, your skin slapping against each other with movement.

Did you forget your manners?

Your head turns slightly to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, mouth pressed together as he struggled to hold himself together. Not like you were making it any easier.

I-I. Mmmmmm...Ugh! Thank you!

You're welcome, baby.

It’s such a contrast. Seeing the once cool demeanor Blaise demonstrated crumble as he turned into a blabbering and whimpering mess for you. Only for you.

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luveline · 10 months

Note

omg if u ever get the chance would you write a follow up for the eddie and shy!reader where they confess? 🥺🩵

first part (u don't have to read if u don't want to) fem!shy!reader and best friend eddie confess, 1.6k

You flick a piece of popcorn off of your knee and smack Eddie square in the cheek. His neck snaps to the side to stare at you, tongue in his cheek in indignation.

"That how it is?" he asks.

You smile mock-demurely. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

It's too close to flirting to deny at this point, but Eddie doesn't ever seem to notice. You've been friends for so long that this slow decline into playfulness feels normal.

Eddie digs for the rogue piece of popcorn on the couch cushion behind his shoulders and prepares to flick it back. You cover your face.

"Hey! Cheating, put your hands down."

"No, you'll flick popcorn at me."

The popcorn hits you in the hand. You drop your hands, but quickly retreat into yourself on the bean bag in apprehension as he approaches, a devilish smile playing on his pretty mouth. "Eddie, please don't–" You groan as he drops his weight on top of you, kneeing the back of your thigh hard. "You fucking–"

"Remember when we first met? You never would've cussed at me," he interrupts, boldly putting his hands on you, one at your neck and the other against your cheek.

You wiggle under him. "Get off."

He takes a handful of popcorn from the bucket by your side. It smells sweet like taffy, and a kernel falls from his palm onto your shirt as he eats it. You flick it at him.

"You're aggressively aggressive," he says through chews.

"You're heavier than you look."

"When we first met," he says, poking your cheek with his pinky, you assume so as not to get popcorn crumbs on you, "you could barely look me in the eye."

"That's just 'cos you're scruffy."

"Funny."

Eddie wipes his hand in his shirt and grabs your face again. You go still at his touch, trying to maintain a facade of calm you don't feel.

"This is nicer. I love when you get all shy," —his voice softens slowly, like a meandering river calmed— "your smile… you smile when you're nervous, you know that?"

You tamp your expression into neutrality. "Do not."

"But it's nicer now that you're not nervous all the time. You're not telling me things, but I can handle it."

"I tell you things," you mumble.

Eddie locks eyes with you. He rubs your jaw with his knuckles teasingly, before climbing off of you with an apologetic pat to your knee. His positioning had been less than comfortable. You sit up with a sigh, leg and chest aching.

"You tell me some things," he says.

"I tell you pretty much everything."

"Liar." He crosses his legs, sitting applesauce by the mantle. Sunlight coming in from the kitchen behind him has his hair like silver at the edges where it falls around his face, his arms tense where he holds his own elbows.

"I'm not lying, you know anything worth knowing about me."

It's hard to make out, but you can tell you've upset him. You aren't sure how, but he goes rigid, looking away from you and toward the TV. His side profile knocks the breath out of you, lashes long where they kiss the skin beneath his brows, his nose a strong line you'd like to reach out and trace.

"Eddie–"

"It's alright, I didn't mean anything by it."

The bean bag groans as you kneel on the rug by Eddie's legs. You look around helplessly for aid, and when none comes you drag the popcorn toward you, eating a mouthful morosely.

"I'm sorry for being weird, I just…" Eddie leans back on one arm and whines. "I think I'm getting my meriod."

"That's not funny."

He puts a hand on his stomach. "Do I look bloated to you?"

"I don't know where to start with that one."

Eddie falls onto his back. His act doesn't last very long, and after a few moments he's frowning at the TV again. You look down into the popcorn kernels, white and yellow and brown and fragrant when you give the tub a little shake. You push it away.

"Don't be sad, Eds. If there's something you want me to tell you, I'll tell you."

You're aflame as you say it, because why the fuck would you say that? There's no way he'll want to know what you're afraid to tell him, he'll never ask, but still. It's like offering to jump into turbulent waters.

"I just don't want you holding onto stuff, that's all. Kinda breaks my heart thinking you're a bag of secrets."

"What if it's stuff you don't wanna hear?" you ask with a dry mouth.

"I always wanna hear it if it's coming from you. Can't promise I'll like it, but what, you think I'm gonna care?"

"It's hard to say."

He gestures for you to lay down with him.

You set your shoulder by his and lay down cautiously. Your thigh bumps into his. A line of rings catches the light where his hand covers his ribs.

"I don't want to tell you something about me and have you see me differently," you say slowly, each word strung to the other clumsily as you piece your sentence together. "I like how you treat me now."

"What if I swear things won't change?"

"I don't…" He sounds like he knows you like him. Impossible to describe, only that you know the truth, so he must know the truth too. "You can't, really. Promise me that."

He turns his head to yours, his hair dragging gentle across your shoulder as he moves. You feel his gaze like a flame on your cheek.

"I swear," he murmurs. "Nothing will change. Nothing you don't want to change."

You turn toward him, heart in your mouth, meeting his baby brown eyes head on. You shift your head against the floor to take the weight of it off of your ear, your chin lifting subtly.

This is going to rip your chest open. "I think I'm," —Eddie leans forward, he closes the gap, "in love–"

You can't finish your sentence. Like a magnetic pull, Eddie fits his lips against the seam of your own and you close it, alarmed, not sure how to respond. He cuts your face softly and pushes up, encouraging you to kiss back.

"Wait," you say, eyes painfully open.

Eddie immediately moves away from you. "Sorry," he says, his eyes just as open, twice as wide, "was I not supposed– you're not talking about me?"

"I'm in love with you," you say.

"Yeah, I guessed?"

"I don't know why you're being cranky with me, we both know I won't be able to say it again."

Your throat totally closes as he rubs your cheek, like there's dirt under his thumb. "I've been thinking about kissing you for months, sweetheart," he says. He looks like he might say more, but he leans in again.

You sigh at his touching, his gentle kiss. He smiles into you, sitting up to kiss down with slightly more force. Eddie takes the lead, cradling your face in hands you've never felt so adoringly tender before. His hair starts to tip onto your cheek like strands of silk.

"I think you'll be okay," he says, breaking the kiss to pant in breath. He rubs the tip of his nose into yours.

"There's popcorn in my teeth, please don't kiss me again," you say quietly.

"I love you. I don't care if we swap kernels for the next hour."

"Hour?" you ask, though you're thrumming with a strange anticipation. The reality hasn't dropped, but it's falling fast.

"I've been waiting months," he reminds you, lips at your cheek as he needles his arms under your shoulders. He hugs you. "Aw, sweetheart. I've been seeing you try to tell me now for months, the whole time thinking I couldn't get any more obsessed with you."

"You're obsessed with me? You knew?" you ask.

"Don't freak out."

"I'm gonna."

"Okay, fine, freak out."

You hug him, burying your nose in his hair. He's soft, and warm, and he's heavy where he leans on your chest, but it's perfect. You wonder if this is the precipice of forever now, if you get to have him in your arms like this all the time. You freak out.

"You're in love with me?" you ask.

"Sickeningly."

"I think my face is on fire."

Eddie peels back to look you over. "You're melting," he says agreeably. "But lucky you, your best friend gives the coolest kisses ever."

"You're gonna make it worse."

"Can I?" he asks.

"I have popcorn in my teeth," you whine again.

Eddie knows you better than anyone in the whole wide world. He demands you open your mouth for kernel extraction and you burst into squeamish giggles, squirming out from his arms and whacking your head on the seat of the couch. Eddie chases after you to start a wrestling match you can't win. He doesn't break his promise —the things you don't want to change stay the same. And the things you do want to change? They're perfect, even if it all tastes overwhelmingly of butter and toffee.

i hope you enjoyed reading!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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talaok · 8 months

Text

The Pause

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You and your colleague Javier Peña have never gotten along, but with just a simple proposition that started off as a joke, it turns out you do work well together in some areas.

Warnings: smut| fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, protected p in v sex (ik me writing that they use a condom? Incredible), praising, size-kink, and reader is not shaved (bc lets be honest now yo girl is so over that)

A roll of the eyes and a loud enough huff... the usual warm greeting reserved for your colleague.

"Good morning to you too" he mocked, raising his head as you sat at the desk in front of him.

"had a rough night?" he continued, wanting nothing more than to see that look on your face when he poked you just enough.

"Well I had a great one" he informed you like you cared, as he lit a cigarette.

"I'm sure you did" you finally spoke "Which one was it tonight? My money’s on Vanessa, you have a sweet spot for her"

He let out a small chuckle, knowing he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

He would have never admitted it out loud, but he loved your daily banter, and even more, he loved your smart mouth.

"Is that Jealousy I hear?"

Now was your turn to laugh "You wish, Peña" you smirked, "the day I'll start being jealous of you and your special friends I'll have officially gone insane"

His eyes slowly analyzed your face, making you feel more uncomfortable than you liked to admit

" I think it wouldn't hurt you, you know?"

"what?" you sighed, organizing some files somebody had left on your desk during the night.

"a good fuck"

Your eyes shot up to his, a mix of disappointment and annoyance firing out of them.

"Unlike you, I'm not really into paying for it" you tilted your head, watching his hazel eyes closely "and not that it's any of your business, but I'm fine in that department"

"How long has it been?" he asked, like he knew, like he knew he was annoyingly right.

It had been a dry month, hell, a dry year.

"why, are you offering?" you raised an eyebrow, not backing off.

"why... are you refusing?" he mirrored your expression, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Your breathing slowed, and time stopped for an infinite instant, all the office's noises blurred in the background as wrong, wrong images filled your brain.

like the one where that same mouth draped around that cigarette crashed with your own... or the one where his big, strong hand wrapped around your neck as his breath fanned against your lips, or the one where...

"good morning"

A whimper left your mouth, and as quickly as you tried turning away from Javier, you didn't miss the smug smile growing on his lips, or the way his eyes searched every inch of your face.

Fuck

"Hi Steve" you cleared your throat, praying to whoever was listening that the crimson painting your cheeks would be blamed on the heat.

The blonde nodded at you with a genuine smile as you willed your breathing to even out.

"Messina said two of us gotta go check out something"

"something?" Peña asked

"Yeah apparently there's a guy that might be able to give us some information" Steve shrugged

He said two, didn't he?

The look on Javier's face certainly cleared out any doubts you might have had.

Oh no. no way in hell I'm spending the whole day with him after what happened not even a minute ago.

"I'll stay behind" you blurted out, earning a frown from Steve and an amused grin from Peña.

You weren't fooling him

You were never one to back down on these things. You wanted to go on the field as much as possible, and they both knew that.

"I just-" you muttered, trying to come up with a believable excuse "I have some things I need to finish up here anyway"

If Steve wasn't convinced, he didn't show it, but Javier on the other hand... Javier was looking at you like he could read every single thought crossing your mind.

"alright" Murphy sighed "Let's go then, Peña," he said, giving you a farewell nod before starting down the elevator

Javier lingered for a moment longer, bending much closer than he needed to as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray between your desks.

"Goodbye y/n" he spoke lowly "I'll be back"

and to anyone that would have sounded like a normal thing to say, but to you... to you, it sounded only like a threat.

__ __ __

Turns out you didn't need to lie, turns out that there actually was a lot of shit to do at the office.

The hotline had been buzzing all day, and being that you were the only dea agent available, most calls had to go through you, plus all the reports to go over and the forms to fill... you didn't even realize how much time had passed before Messina startled you as she walked out of her office.

"Goodnight agent" she called, making you glance up from your desk for the first time in the past two hours.

"goodnight" you called absentmindedly, as you took in the office... it was deserted, not one single soul at their desk.

What time is it?

You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall to your right

9:30 pm

9:30 pm?

When the fuck did that happen?

the elevator dinged in the distance as your boss stepped into it.

You must be seeing things, because there's no way in hell... nope, the clock was still telling the same exact time.

"fuck" you exhaled into the empty room, running a hand down the length of your face.

Ok, it's definitely time to go home.

You glanced at the papers on your desk and divided them into two piles, one of them going into your drawer, and the other in Messina's office.

You sighed heavily as you got up, the old chair creaking under your weight.

The click of your heels against the tiles echoed off the walls as you made your way to the Messina's door.

She's not gonna be happy about how many papers she's gonna have to look over in the morning...

You turned the doorknob and the door emanated a soft shriek as you pushed it open.

You walked to the desk and just when you were about to drop those papers on it, a voice rumbled from beside you

"You waited"

You gasped, turning around immediately in shock

"Jesus Christ!" you breathed, realizing who it was "You scared me"

"I'm sorry sweetheart" Javier spoke softly

sweetheart? When did that happen? And when did my body get permission to react this way?

He was leaning on the doorframe, his arm crossed over his broad chest.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, retracting your hand from your hammering heart and finally setting the files on the desk.

"I told you I'd be back" he put simply "We never got to finish our talk this morning"

You swallowed what felt like sand in your mouth,

A part of you, a naive, stupid part of you, was hoping he would have already forgotten about that, but of course, it's Javier F. Peña we're talking about, and when it's about torturing you... you can be sure he'll never forget anything.

"what talk?" you lied through your teeth

maybe miracles are real, maybe he'll just let it go.

He didn't respond, he didn't need to, he saw right through you.

He smirked instead, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards you.

Now your heart wasn't racing from the scare, this was all him.

You were the only people in the office, hell, the building probably, and he was right there in front of you, looking at you like he could see right through your clothes.

"You paused" he murmured, now towering over you

"What are you talking about?"

Fake it until you make it, right?

"You paused this morning"

You frowned, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about “Listen Peña I gotta go home, so if you-“ you moved out of his way, starting towards the door, but before you could actually exit the room, his hand on your wrist stopped you, making you turn around

“Do you want me to fuck you, agent y/l/n?”

To say heat rushed to your face was an understatement

“What the fuck?”

“Oh don’t look so surprised, I saw how you looked at me before” he cooed, wetting his lips

“And how did I look at you?” you shook your arm out of his hold, just for him to get even closer to you, his body now inches away from your own

“Like you wanted me to say just that” he murmured “like you wanted me to bend you over your desk and take you right there in the middle of the office”

A breath got caught in your throat, and as much as you wanted to get out of his penetrating gaze, you couldn't do anything but stare at those endless wells of brown.

I don't know what to say, What the fuck could I say?

The same pleased grin was adorning his lips, and for a moment you pondered whether you wanted to smack or kiss it off of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you managed to say, praying you sounded more confident than you actually felt

"c'mon sweetheart" he chuckled "I know you want it" he breathed, ducking closer so he could whisper in your ear as he moved some hair out of your face "A good fuck wouldn't hurt you... you're always so tense"

He drawled out his words like spells

"You're confident for a man who needs to pay women to fuck them"

he smiled amusedly at that

"Is that a challenge?"

"most definitely not" You ignored the shiver running up your spine

he raised his head again so that he could look at you

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, y'know," he said "It would just be two friends helping each other out"

"since when are we friends?"

"fine then" he agreed "Two colleagues"

Was he being serious?

Did I fall asleep at my desk and this is just some fucked up lucid dream?

"c'mon baby" he persisted, his hands finding your waist "I can make you feel real good"

"Peña..." you breathed, trying to get your mind to collaborate and realize what a fucking mistake you were about to make

"yes, sweetheart?" the bastard asked, his voice dropping an octave.

You gulped, cursing yourself internally

There was no turning back, your mind was already made up... and he knew it too.

You glanced out the door.

No one was here,

No one would ever have to know about this.

"If I agree... we'll never speak of this again ok?" you stated "This never happened"

The widest grin you'd ever seen split his face

"You sure about that, baby?" he murmured, "that way..." he brought his right thumb to your mouth, slowly tracing its shape "How will you be able to beg me to do it again?"

You snorted "please"

"Ok, how about this" he proposed then "I promise to never speak of it again, if after we're done... You can sincerely tell me that that wasn't the best sex of your life"

You laughed again, "fine"

"You can't lie" he reminded you, his mouth now ghosting yours

"I won't" you repeated "Now can you please just-"

"Gladly" he muttered, but before you had time to respond or think of any other rules to impose, his lips were already on yours, and his tongue had slipped into your mouth

He was...hungry

Both his hands wrapped around your waist and he picked you up like you weighed less than a feather.

The squeak you let out was muffled by his mouth, but you somehow managed to wrap your legs and arms around him in the haze.

his hands were on your ass, and the groan he let out didn't even try to hide just how much he liked them there.

You could feel his mustache, taste his cigarettes, and his scent was wrapped around you like a mantel, and god you hated admitting it but it felt good, he felt good

And you were so caught up in everything that your body was feeling for the first time in so long, that you didn't even realize he hadn't stayed still, but in fact, had walked you right in front of Messina's desk and was now sitting you on it.

Oh god

Why did it now just tick that you were in your boss' office?

"changed your mind yet?"

Javier on the other hand, couldn't have cared less

"From just a kiss?" you teased, cocking an eyebrow

He snickered, parting your legs so he could fit in between them.

His mouth trailed away from yours until it found your ear "Well I am very talented with my mouth" he murmured, before biting your lobe.

You wouldn't have even realized you had moaned if it wasn't for that smug smirk on his face.

"Oh don't worry" he cooed, his mouth now lowering to kiss your neck "I'll show you in a minute"

His lips started a slow, torturous trail down your neck, each peck sending a ripple of warmth to your core, and when his teeth grazed your collarbones, then you couldn't do anything but whimper, as you threw your head back.

You couldn't see him, but you sure as hell could feel that smile on his lips.

Next was your blouse, he took his time gently undoing each button, reserving a kiss for every new inch of skin he uncovered, until the fabric wasn't doing anything to cover up your bra, and all he needed, and hence did, was to get rid of your shirt.

"fuck" he muttered mostly to himself, all his eagerness showing for a moment as he removed your black bra like his life was on the line "Where have you been hiding all this?"

"I haven't been hiding anything, and you know it" you scoffed "I catch you staring at least twice a day"

A soft chuckle fled his throat "Can you blame me?" he asked, his eyes focused on your body "I mean look at you" his hands traveled up your belly until they were cupping your tits "You belong in a museum"

And you knew he had probably said that same line to more girls than you could ever imagine, but the blush on your cheeks rose nonetheless.

But before you had time to lie and ask just how many those girls were, he had ducked and sucked your left nipple into his mouth.

"oh shit" you whispered, hypnotized by the image in front of you.

He caught you staring as he opened his eyes, and just when you were expecting a snarky comment, he only smirked before taking your other nipple into your mouth.

This time you closed your eyes as you moaned just to be safe.

He let go of your skin with a pop, making you whimper.

"Can I take off your skirt sweetheart?"

What is this, a joke?

"mh-mh" you hummed

"All the sudden you don't wanna talk?" he mocked "Use your words baby"

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes

"Yes, Javier, you can take off my skirt"

A smirk pulled at his lips

"Good girl"

If you were wet before, those two words had now rendered you completely drenched, and that look on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing

His fingers quickly slipped under your skirt, and before you knew it, you were sitting in front of him in only a pair of black panties, and your work heels.

You were breathing as if you'd just run a marathon once he started peeling your panties off of you.

"wait" you suddenly remembered

"What is it sweetheart?" he stopped

"I-" all the sudden you were embarrassed "I didn't shave"

he looked at you like you'd just told him to go fuck himself

"Baby girl, you're insulting me" he cooed, stoking your sides "You take me for a man who cares about that sort of thing?"

"Oh," you breathed "I just-"

"You got me all wrong sweetheart" he shook his head, slowly kneeling between your knees and gradually taking off your panties in the process.

"god, you're beautiful" he breathed, once you were entirely bare before him.

And again, red crept up your cheeks.

He picked one of your legs up and unhurriedly bent down to kiss you just above your ankle, and then your calves, and then your knee, and then all the way to your inner thigh, until you were screaming internally and your heart was beating faster than you thought humanly possible.

he took his time placing your foot on the chair next to him, so you were spread wide for him, and then did the same thing all over again to your other leg, only changing his routine when he placed your leg on his shoulder instead of the chair.

You were close to hyperventilating.

"Javier..."

"What sweetheart?" he teased, his lips now inches from where your body was begging him to be "You're already desperate?"

"You-You wish" you lied

He chuckled, and the vibrations of his voice went straight to your core, making you whimper

"no?" he taunted, kissing you even closer to your cunt

"no- just-" you swallowed

"what? Tell me what you want baby"

"You know what I want" you begged

"I do, but I wanna hear you say it" he murmured, kissing you just above your pussy "I want to hear you begging me to lick this pretty pussy of yours"

"That's not going to happen" you breathed

He grinned "You sure?" his lips lowered to kiss your clit

"fuck" you moaned with a thread of voice

"You sure you don't want me to?" he asked again, his lips now finding your hole "'cause that would be a damn shame..." he continued, the tip of his tongue now finding your core for just a second "You look fucking delicious baby"

"I-" you stuttered, shutting your eyes "Javier c'mon"

"I want to hear you say it, princess" he smirked, "What's the magic word?"

And fuck him, but you were desperate

"Please" you surrendered "Please Javier just-"

The rest of your sentence died in your throat as he finally dove down, taking your pussy into his mouth.

"Javi" you whimpered, clutching his head to your body with one hand and gripping the desk with the other.

You had never called him Javi a day in your life, but this seemed as good a time as any.

He sucked on your clit first, stretching it into his mouth and going back again and again making you squirm and desperate to come, before starting to devour every other inch of you, licking up and down and swirling his tongue over your nub, getting drunk on your taste.

"Shit- oh my fucking god" you panted, losing every bit of decency you had and grinding against him.

His mustache was tickling your skin, only making you want to moan louder.

Good thing you were the only people left in the office.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, two of his thick, long fingers plunged inside of you.

"Fuck-javi!" you screamed

he curled them inside you while he didn't even dream about stopping his work on your clit, and you couldn't do anything but arch your back as a series of obscenities left your mouth.

his other hand came up to palm your breasts and again, a shock of pleasure coursed through you as he added a third finger.

"Oh god- that's-" you moaned "Javi"

You didn't even know what to say, you just knew that you hadn't felt this good or full in far too much, if not ever.

Three fingers of his didn't even compare to the two of yours you had spent months using as some sort of relief.

"I love it when you say my name like that baby" he leaned away for just a moment to say, before resuming his work of art.

"f-fuck" you cried "Javi please"

"What is it sweetheart?" he asked, his fingers pushing in and out of you filling the room with an obscene sound.

You were soaked.

"Javi I think-" You felt your stomach start to shake as the orgasm was about to take hold but... but something wasn't right.

"fuck javi something's wrong I-" you moaned,

You had never felt like this, it felt like... it felt like you were about to pee.

"I think I'm gonna-"

And before you had time to finish, he pitched your left nipple and a tsunami of pleasure washed you all the way to the shore as your vision went white.

You were sure your moans could be heard from outside of the building.

"Goddamit sweetheart" his deep voice brought you back to reality

You opened your eyes, and he was... he was glistening, and- and that wet spot on his shirt wasn't there before, was it?

"Did I-" Your eyes widened

You...squirted? You didn't even know you were capable of something like that

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen baby," he said, looking at you as if you'd just turned water to wine "Was this your first time?"

"yeah" you nodded

A smile spread on his lips as he stood up again

"You still sure you aren't gonna beg me to do that again?"

"God, I hate you" you breathed

"yeah? Enough to let me fuck you apparently" he murmured, before crashing his lips with yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Shut up" you mustered, before he kissed you once again.

You racked your hands down his chest, fumbling to undo his shirt's buttons.

thank god he didn't wear a tie today

Once his shirt was off with his help, you let your hands move down his body until they found the bulge in his tight jeans.

"fuck" he groaned, as you palmed him through the fabric.

His belt was even harder to take off.

"Eager sweetheart?" he cooed, undoing his belt for you, and while he was at it, unzipping his pants.

"Shut up"

He smirked that same smug smirk he seemed to have stapled to his lips "We'll see who'll be the one who won't be able to talk in a minute"

"I'm not sucking your dick, Peña"

"That's not what I'm talking about baby" he murmured, getting rid of his pants and boxers at the same time.

Your gaze lowered and- oh shit

"fuck" you muttered, not even realizing you had

He chuckled, his chest raising with his voice "What? Too big for you?" he mocked, kissing your cheek before trailing his mouth to your ear "Don't worry, I'll go slow just for you, sweetheart"

Your mouth was still agape, but you were finally able to tear your glare from his member.

"Do you-" you swallowed "Do you have a condom?" you remembered.

In no time he materialized one from the pocket of the jeans pooling at his feet.

"Of course" you huffed out a laugh.

He didn't pay you any mind you as he rolled on the condom, and you watched the motion, mesmerized by... well, by how big he was.

He caught you red-handed, and his grin only widened.

"Open your legs for me sweetheart" he ordered, and something in his tone made you oblige immediately.

He positioned himself at your entrance, taking his dick in his hand and sliding it between your folds.

"fuck" you moaned softly, closing your eyes

"I want you to look at me" he stopped you, "You look at me when I'm inside you, baby"

You hesitated a moment before doing as told, looking into his lust-filled eyes.

"Good girl" he praised you, before finally entering you.

"Oh my god" you moaned at the stretch.

"That was just the tip sweetheart" he smirked, pushing himself even deeper.

Just the tip?

You looked to where your bodies were meeting and, to your dismay... he was right

How is that all gonna fit?

"It's gonna fit" he read your mind, retracting his hips just to thrust himself deeper "You're gonna take it all like a good girl y/n" he murmured against your mouth, as his fingers found your clit "and then when I'm done with you" he forced his cock into you again making you quite literally scream "you're gonna feel so sore you're gonna remember me every time you take a step"

And with that, he drove his whole dick into you, making you bite your own lip so hard you could almost taste blood.

"God you feel good" he groaned, starting to find a slow pace "so fucking tight for me sweetheart"

"fuckfuckfuckfuck" was all you could cry out into the air

it was so big

and so deep

"I know" he cooed, kissing your neck, before fastening his pace.

"Javi!" you screamed, one of your hands going to grip his shoulder to keep you anchored to this world.

It was nothing like anything you'd ever felt. You could feel him everywhere, taking hold of every single part of your being.

"Look at you" he murmured, kissing ur lips again, even if they were parted as you gasped for air "Taking it so well" he cooed, his fingers resuming their work on your clit "Being such a good girl for me" he continued, his breath fanning against your mouth "letting me use this pretty pussy of yours" he groaned, as you sucked him right in "drenching me with all your juices" he growled "so so good"

"javi please" you moaned

"do you even know what you're begging for?" he asked "Or are you so cock drunk that brain of yours has stopped working?"

"I-" You tried to come up with a comeback, but all you could do was whine and whine and then whine again.

"fuck" was now his turn to moan "babygirl you feel so fucking good"

"Javi"

"Yes say my name sweetheart" he thrust into you more harshly now, more deeply even somehow "Scream it"

"Fuck-javi!"

"just like that" he nodded, looking you right in your eyes as he split you in fucking half "Just like that baby"

"Javi I'm-" you whimpered, not able to find the words

"You're coming sweetheart?" he found them for you "You gonna drench me again?" he asked mostly himself "No you need to have it licked to do that, don't you?" he realized "fuck I can't wait 'till you'll let me have a taste again"

"oh my god" you moaned, as pure ecstasy ran through your body "Fuck I'm-"

"come all over me baby" he urged, grunting with every one of his deep fucking thrusts "Be a good girl and come on my cock"

And that was all you needed, that's all you heard before you were screaming his name as loud as you could, letting him drill you into another earth-shattering orgasm.

"fuck" he groaned, just after you were done, "fuck-y/n" was all he could muster before he too, had the best orgasm of his life.

it took a moment before any of you got enough breath in your lungs to do anything but stare into each other's blown-out pupils.

"So?" he asked, not even bothering to pull out

Part of you was still wondering if this was a dream, and the fact you couldn't feel most of your body certainly didn't help

"You know" you rolled your eyes

He smirked "I do know, but I wanna hear you say it"

"Yes, alright?" you admitted

"Yes, what?"

fuck. me.

"Fine" you sighed "Yes, Javier, it was the best sex of my life"

And again, his grin only got wider "Good" he said "'cause it was mine too" he gave your lips another quick peck "and there's no way we're not doing it again"

2K notes · View notes

eddiernunson · 3 months

Text

Selfish | Steddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: Reader is torn as she wants two people at once, and she figures it's impossible...in the sense that they would never want her. She is proven wrong after making an accidental audience with Eddie one night...

Warnings: voyeurism, perv!Eddie, public smut, masturbation (f + m), a little bit of Steve x reader, double penetration...and lots of self indulgent writing.

Authors' Note: Yeah this is just self indulgent. That's all. I'd want them both. <3

Word Count: 10.8k

Selfish.

On a regular day, it’s hard not to feel completely selfish. There’re a million different voices in your head telling you to make a damn choice. Not just telling, but begging.

Not just in your head, but in your life. Your friend and confidant, Robin is one of the many voices telling you so.

You can’t help it, it started so innocently. During the course of the school year, you happen to start thinking that Eddie Munson is damn fine. Your paths barely cross, only seeing him across the cafeteria at lunch or the occasional party to sell. Something about him drew you in. His hair, his hands, his strong forearms, his lust for life, that slutty little waist… He is enticing, hypnotising.

It’s not like you’re ever going to get with someone who you’ve never spoken to unless you somehow drag him into a hallway closet. Oh, isn’t that idea ever tempting?

It’s an uneventful day at school, save for the random graffiti anonymously placed on each class room door. There were several suspects, the perpetrator found but not announced, much to the entire school’s dismay.

When Robin meets you at your regular table, she has a litany of complaints up her sleeve. If you don’t stop her, she can talk for hours about any given subject that passes through her brain. At this point, from an entire summer and autumn working with her on top of spending many hours shooting the shit with her, you’re ridiculously used to it. You might even call it charming.

As usual, you listen with an empathetic, yet distracted ear. Your eyes flicker to Munson every now and then, appreciating the way his muscle shirt shows off his toned arms. Usually, they’re engulfed by his large leather jacket, but on this unusually hot autumn day he is taking advantage of the warmer weather.

Oh, and so am I, you think to yourself, eyeing him up and down appreciatively.

Your eyes flicker back to Robin, holding back a giggle at her expression. She knows about your crush of course, not that you’d tried to hide it. Robin would come up with schemes to set you up with him, but there’s one little obstacle.

“You’re shameless, you know that?” She accuses, a half smile on her face. She’s being playful, as always. “One of these days, you’re going to have to make up your mind.”

This conversation is repeated, always on replay. It’s one of your little games. “I mean,” you start cheekily, “who said anything about talking to them?”

She shakes her head, quiet laughter leaving her lips. “You are impossible.”

See, Robin knew your secret. Not only were you infatuated with Eddie, but with your coworker as well. Steve.

Steve is a bit more realistic; you suppose. After all, you work part time with him, up to 25 hours a week. Most of the job is spent moving tapes from place to place, categorizing, and talking shit. Lately, even more than normal, you’re hypnotized by him, your eyes sometimes glazing over as you take in just how pretty his brown eyes are.

Man, do you have a thing for brown eyes.

This usually eggs him on, thinking his words must mean something. They don't, really. You don’t take in a single word of what he’s saying. You’re just admiring him, his pretty lips, the freckles decorating his skin…

See, your problem is that you can’t decide on which one you’d want more…not that there’s any part of you that remotely thinks you would have that luxury. You’re not possibly conceited enough to believe that you would have a choice. Really, if it came down to it, (emphasis on if), it would be which one would choose you.

And they have so much better to choose from.

So, you let yourself imagine it. There’s certainly no harm in the what if.

“Not impossible, just horny.” You laugh, winking at the way she chokes on her water.

Steve pushes the cart of returns around, tapping his hands rhythmically on the plastic. You are on rewind duty, using a rewinder to go through each returned tape quickly and effectively. It’s a weekday, so business has been slow. Weekdays give more leeway on the display tvs, topics of discussion, and finally, to fuck around.

“Hey, Robin isn’t working today, right?” Steve asks, looking back at you.

You’re invested in the movie playing, leaning against the counter. “Hmm?” The question registers. “Oh, no she’s off on Wednesdays, remember? Band rehearsal after school.”

“Right, right.” He nods, something clearly on his mind.

“Something going on in that pretty little head of yours, Harrington?” You ask, switching the tape out for a new one.

He looks over his shoulder, licking his lips. “Pretty, huh?”

You roll your eyes, completely missing the way his eyes trail down your body. Your disregard of any possibility for a mutual attraction really is your blind spot. “You know you’re pretty, Harrington. Don’t play dumb.”

He shakes his head, pushing the cart along towards the romance section. “If you say so, sweets.”

You lick your lips, tasting the cherry ChapStick that deepens the shade of your lips into a darker red. Something about him is different today.

On the computer is a sticky note asking if the back room filled with unlabelled tapes could be organized and categorized. With the lack of customers, list of chores completed, and plenty of time left in your shift, you end up being bored enough to follow through. It won’t be done in one shift, but at least you’ll get it started. It’s a damn tedious process.

Not even twenty minutes pass by, a pile of marked and labeled tapes already to your left when the door to the back room shuts. You suspect for only a second that Steve needed to grab something, until you feel a pair of hands on your hips and hot breath on your neck. You freeze, gulping as you stare dead ahead at the tapes standing in a row. Your throat dries up like a drain unplugged, every limb freezing in place like you’re glued to the spot.

“Steve?” You ask after a moment passes.

He hums, thumb swaying up and down your hip, gently brushing past the hem of your shirt onto your bare skin. The other hand curtains your hair from your shoulder, trailing kisses down the curve of your neck. As a reflex you relax into it, sighing as you lean into his warm, wet, touch. The sensation flutters throughout your limbs, turning every bone, every muscle, into gelatin.

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his teeth scrape across your skin decorated with goosebumps. Your relaxed disposition is short lived, freezing up when your mind catches up to what the hell is happening. “Wait—” you protest, head snapping up in a frenzy.

He holds your face, turning it towards him. Eyes are hooded, looking tired, but from his dilated eyes you can tell he’s anything but. “What?”

“We-we’re at work, Steve, someone can come in at any moment…”

He listens, partially, barely. His eyes flicker down to your lips, all shiny and tugging him in. “Is that your only protest?” Your heart races, feeling as if someone is pulling at the corners of your mouth as you hesitantly nod. “No one has come in for over an hour, and I locked the door and turned the sign around. We won’t be bothered.”

“Oh.” A gasp leaves your lips as he leans in for a kiss, mouth deliciously open against yours. He demands full control, his fingers spreading across your neck. Your body turns to face him, grabbing onto the collar of the polo shirt he wears under his green vest. You can barely keep up with him, giggling out of pure, absolute, giddiness.

His hand runs up your torso, shaking yet demanding. Your vest is pulled down your arms, his hand pulling you against him. He starts kissing down your neck, pushing you so his arm and your back collide with the shelf behind you. A startled gasp fills the small room, your feet shuffling as the mixed sensations create a pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Look at you, so pretty, you feelin’ good?” You nod, a hand twisting under his shirt and grabbing at his bare torso. His voice is dripping in husk, gorgeous in a way you’ve only ever pictured.

“Uh huh,” you manage to choke out.

He doesn't falter at his multitasking, his expert tongue working against yours as his hands work the button of your jeans open and the zipper down. “Let’s see how soaked you are...” The joints where your jaw is attached to your skull feels as if they vanish as your jaw drops open and Steve places his hand on your thin, cotton panties.

“Shit, honey, you are soaked.” He mutters, a sly half smile on his face.

“Jesus,” you whimper as he gently teases you.

He wastes no time, pushing your pants down your ass, watching as he exposes you with a stupid level of intrigue. “Baby, you know how pretty your pussy is, just dripping wet, jus ‘for me?”

He slips a finger in, reaching the deepest depths, somewhere yours never fucking could. He’s so fucking good at it too, watching your face as his thumb rotates on your clit, the pleasure from it more than you knew was possible. “S-Stevie,” you whimper, fingers clutching onto his shirt. “Oh, my god.”

“Wanted to see you like this for weeks, honey.” He adds another finger, his face watching and listening for every reaction you feed him. He eats them up like he’s been starving for you.

This information simply didn’t process, because there is no possibility this is true. None. “R-really?” You ask, leg moving up to get better access to your pussy.

Steve smirks, relishing in how you tighten around his digits. “Of course, honey.” His voice is like velvet, tender and smooth. He starts to move them faster, pumping them quickly, watching the breaths from your mouth grow shallower, your head falling back onto a shelf. “You think I don’t notice you watching me?”

Steve loves the reactions you give him, watching how you melt into putty in his hands. “You did?” It’s so close, he’s only started and you’re already being hurtled towards the edge.

“The way your thighs tense up, your eyes watching me, those pretty lips parted…” he explains, you have to give him credit for being much more observant than you had pegged him for. “Wanted to put my thumb in your mouth so many times, darling.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, tensing up as you get close to your climax.

He laughs. You’re almost offended by his nonchalance. Is…is he not turned on, too? “We were surrounded by people, sweets. I have some self control, yunno.”

The reminder that you’re in the back room with him at work is on your mind, a hint of cockiness floods your head. “Evidently, not-not that much.”

He works his fingers harder, you’re not sure if it’s a reward or punishment for your words, but the orgasm is abrupt, overflowing your senses completely as you shake against the shelf. “There she is,” he mutters, fingers working you through every sensation he so expertly provides you.

He smirks as he watches the afterglow take over your face, biting his lip when your head finally lifts up to face him. Just when you think he couldn’t possibly get any hotter, he proves you wrong. You don’t doubt he will prove you wrong again. And again.

…and again.

You barely take a second to recover, hands fumbling down for his jeans button. “Kay, now I need you.” You urge him, grinning at the way his cock pops out against the fabric of his shirt. A hushed swear falls from your lips when you take in his size, bigger than you even thought he was.

And you thought he was huge.

“Yeah?” He asks, a droopy smile on his face when your eyes peer up at him.

You nod, wrapping your hand around him, jerking him off. He’s thick, the head flushed red and a vein wrapping around it. When his face crumples, a crease appearing between his eyes, you’ve already proven yourself right in your theory. “Please, Stevie.” You urge him, pulling his cock towards your entrance.

Your ass sits on an empty shelf, where it’s been resting since he fucked his fingers into you. When he slaps his cock, already leaking with precum, against your clit, you whine impatiently, silently begging for him. “I like when you ask so nicely. Do it s’more, will ya?”

“C’mon, Stevie, I want your cock, so fucking bad. I’ve pictured this so many times, I fucking need it. Please.” You don’t mention anything about a third party usually being present, but that could come up, maybe…

Steve grins, marveling in the way your voice is so pathetic for him. It’s even better than he imagined, by more than a million miles. A part of him is greedy for you, greedy for even more proof of how badly you’ve wanted him, despite the clear evidence from the first time he clocked it.

At the time, he wondered if he was picturing it, the way your eyes were unfocused and shifted down at his arms. He was barely flexing them, when he did experimentally, he watched your breath literally hitch, eyes hurriedly switching back to his face.

It took a few more days of experimentation, but he finally confirmed it when the evidence was too congruent to think otherwise.

He’s even more greedy for you, having spent many nights thinking about you bent over, on your knees, on your back, riding him, you name it, he’s thought of it.

He can ask you to continually beg for him another time, right now he’s just desperate for you, so he ignores the call to ask you to beg even more and pushes the head in.

The gasp, your jaw dropping, the swears that fall from your lips and invade the quiet room, the way your pussy sucks him in, everything about your reaction is perfect to him. The feeling is likewise, watching in real time as his eyes darken for you, and for you alone.

He’s huge in a way you can’t even comprehend, frighteningly so. Still, he starts thrusting, gently as he can muster, still stinging, regardless. He knows he should wait, he has to every time he’s with someone new, but god damn if your pussy wasn’t the best he’s ever felt in his life. His hips move wondrously, rolling them in a way that feels like magic.

You can’t help the yelps and the whines that fill the room, watching and combing your fingers through his famous locks. They’re so soft, despite the constant hairspray and hair products he uses. While the pain mostly overshadows the pleasure, the combination is beautifully laced together.

Boy, can he fuck better than you had imagined. While you have thought of some things while imagining him, nothing has ever even compared to all that he’s giving you.

The moans that pass through his mouth, the roll of his hips, the crumpled expression on his face…all things that your brain could never come up with. Sure, you thought he could talk dirty, imagined his long fingers instead of yours, maybe picturing the way you so desperately finger yourself; this wasn’t remotely close to what you imagined.

Hell, it wasn’t anywhere near what you had imagined.

It’s so much better.

You whimper, stuttering on the S of his name, unable to finish it, too blissed to care.

“S-s, what, honey? What’s that you were saying?” He chuckles deeply when you tighten around him. “Oh, you like being talked down to, huh? Like being put in your place?”

You nod, pulling him for a needy kiss, losing any sense of concentration when his hand lands on your clit, rubbing it in the exact way you needed him to.

“I fucking knew you would, little whore getting fucked at work, taking his big cock like you were made to, fuck.” His thrusts get stronger, harder, faster, gasping wordlessly at how fucking good he is at it.

“Fuck, Stevie, you gonna breed me? Gonna cum in my pussy? Need it so fucking bad, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

The smile that invades his face is cocky, watching you crumble under him. “Listen to your pretty voice beg for me, you really want me that bad, huh?” You nod, wondering how his hips hit harder. How was that possible? “Gonna breed you, honey, just keep being a good girl f’me, and I’ll fill you up, mmkay?”

You nod, watching the beads of sweat slowly coat his reddened face. One hand curls itself into the hair by the crown of your head, gripping tightly and watching the intense pleasure that takes over your face. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, no longer aware of any existence outside of this room, you’re here, only here, and will only be here.

“Shit, gonna fill you up, honey, need to feel you cum all over my cock, won’t you, please, sweets, need it—” while he thinks your begging is beautiful, his is just the thing to put you over the edge. The fluttering of your tight walls around him pulling the cum that fills you up beautifully.

His cock thrusts through the collective orgasm you feel together, the force of it pushing his load out of your pussy, you watch it leak past his length and down your thighs. It’s a sight that almost makes you cum again.

He smirks, catching his breath in time with you. He places kisses up your throat, taking in the way you tighten around him. Finally, you come back down to earth, the smell of sex in the room from your tryst overwhelming it. How much febreeze would it take to hide it? Your jeans are barely down to your knees, shirt ruffled, and hair a mess. Man, did you get caught up in him, his kiss, his scent, his cock.

A shy grin cascades across your face, watching as a piece of hair curls its way into his eye. “Hi, beautiful.” He greets, hand plastering itself onto your cheek.

“Hi.” You whisper, still pulsing around him.

“Did you enjoy it as much as I did?” He asks, biting his lip as his eyes look bored into yours.

“Probably more.” You admit, grinning cheekily. “You did all the work.”

He laughs in answer, placing a kiss on your cheek as he pulls out. The loss is stark, you suddenly feel so empty.

Oh, he did manage his entire length. Fuck.

“Was it everything you wanted?”

You flick an eyebrow up at him, tilting your head. “I don’t know, Harrington. You tell me.”

He laughs, winking at you. “Yeah, whatever.”

You wouldn’t exactly call yourself his girlfriend at this point because that certainly didn’t feel like an invitation for such. In fact, when Steve mentions his date coming up that weekend you don’t exactly feel heartbreak, just jealousy.

Whatever weird relationship you just started with him, coworkers with benefits or whatever, you are down for it. You're immediately wondering how often you’ll be in the back room with him, sharing cheeky looks across the room when he winks at you.

When he’s that good, it’s hard not to be.

Despite the urge to, you actually don’t tell Robin over the phone about your hook up with Steve. Something about the secrecy just makes it that much hotter. You lie, telling her the night was boring with customers appearing for their late returns.

The store is reopened, Steve grinning at you manically as he continues with his work. Well, if you can call putting the returns away “work”.

Your mom is at work for the night, taking a double at the hospital. She left twenty bucks on the counter for supper, leaving a note to order some take out. Well, pizza it is. You order the vegetarian deluxe, rolling your eyes at the wait time; forty-five minutes to an hour. Apparently, they are very busy tonight. Whatever.

You decide to kill time, running up to your room and jumping on your bed, kicking your panties off, keeping the sweatshirt you wear on. Your fingers happily dance themselves onto your clit, using some of the gift Steve left you as lubricant.

Sometimes, the person you imagine takes over for you, sometimes they simply put their cock in you, disguised in the form of a dildo. This time, they merely watch.

“That’s right, let’s see those fingers touch your pretty clit.” You imagine his voice, Eddie, picturing him watching you. “Little slut can’t even be satisfied with Harrington’s cock, huh?” He asks, and yeah, maybe you are a desperate slut ready for either man to take advantage of you. But who fucking cares, at this point? Your hand moves up to touch your tit, sneaking past the hem of your shirt, when your own imagination stops you. “No, you can touch yourself over your sweater, I’m letting you touch your pussy, isn’t that enough?”

Somehow it makes you moan desperately, massaging it pathetically. You shake your head, feeling a bit like a brat for the moment.

“No? Feeling greedy, huh?” He asks, you picture his dark brown eyes fixated on your pussy, fingers itching to touch you, just able to prevent himself from doing so.

You grin, nodding. “Please let me, I’ll be so good.” You take full advantage of no one being home.

“Hmm. Don’t think you will be…” He muses, and man, did you know what you liked. You desperately hoped he would know, too. “You already had Harrington’s cock today, and now you want someone else?”

“Yeah, she is quite a slut, ain’t she?” Oh, there he is.

The idea of the two of them here, watching you with dark eyes, both breaking at the seams at resisting the want to touch you, creates a new stir in you that feels nearly impossible.

“Look at how greedy she is, desperate for us, ain’t she?” You picture Eddie agreeing, squatting right in front of your bed to get a closer look.

Suddenly you forget about the urge to beg them to let you touch your tit and move on to begging for them. Begging for one of them, at least, to finally take pity on you and just fuck you already. Why is this so enticing to you? Why does it draw you in so, like a moth to a flame?

Well, you suppose if the flame was two hot, gorgeous, capable men, you’d be drawn to it just as a moth is, despite how badly the heat burns you.

Your fingers grow faster, gasping more intensely as the scenario furthers in your mind. You’re about to push yourself over the edge, the whines from your throat loud and desperate, when the doorbell rings twice, one after the other. Fuck, the pizza’s here.

You completely forgot you even ordered food to begin with.

You rush to put a pair of sweats on, petting your hair down desperately as you pick up the 20 from the counter. The bell rings twice more, you yell “I’m coming, I’m coming!” at the impatient driver. Well, you would’ve been if they were just five minutes slower.

The door opens to face Eddie Munson, holding a pizza in his hand and wearing a dorky delivery driver visor. Huh, the last thing you ever expect him to wear is a bright yellow visor, the shade of American cheese, with a dripping piece of pizza on it, that’s for damn sure. Well, the last thing you expected was to see Eddie Munson, especially with what you were just doing, what you were just picturing. Well, this is awkward. For you it is, for him you guessed it was just another delivery.

You smile awkwardly, tossing him the 20 and trading for your pizza. He asks how much you want back as the order and the delivery fee only cost you 10 dollars in total. You insist he takes the ten-dollar tip, grinning when he blinks in disbelief.

As much as you want to stay and talk to him and get a better handle of his voice, you were so close, and you can feel it starting to drift away. You close the door with a frank thank you and slide the pizza on the counter, running up the stairs.

As the door slams in his face, Eddie’s eyebrows raise, finding the whole interaction peculiar. In fact, when you opened the door, he clocked the scent right away. With how wet you are, both your arousal and Steve’s cum dripping down your thighs, it flooded his nose. Eddie knows the smell of pussy and knows it well. You were in such a rush to get back to your own imagination, you didn’t notice the way his jeans started to tent at the crotch.

Eddie starts to shrug it off, accepting the tip and taking the hint that you wanted alone time, but a sound, enticing and wonderous, floats into his ears. He thought he was hallucinating, did…did he just hear his name?

He wanders past the gate to your backyard and looks up to an open window, not seeing you, but hearing the moans that leave your throat as you continue your mission. His jaw slacks open, listening to you beg for him, beg for his cock. God, now knowing he has such power over you is driving him insane.

His cock throbs in his jeans to the point of hurting, he grabs himself just for the tiniest bit of relief, slightly stroking himself to the sound of your voice. Eddie’s legs are restless, like he wants to go back to your front door and ask if you want his help. He nearly carries himself there, ready to devour you, his career as a delivery driver be damned.

He only makes two strides when the second thing that freezes him into place comes out of your mouth. The first was you openly begging for him, but the second one is hearing you add someone else’s name in the mix. Eddie mistakes it for the wrong name, but as you intertwine his with Steve’s, it becomes clear to him that he wasn’t the only one you were currently begging for.

Your voice gets higher, more urgent, the begging transitions from begging for them to fuck you, which, jesus, to letting you finish. Man, he loves the way your mind works. He slips his cock out, unable to resist relieving himself any further. His eyes flicker to your neighbors’ lights, he hopes no one would be nosey enough to peer into your backyard for the night.

Come to think of it, he’s actually not sure he would care all that much.

The symphony of strings of swears and whimpers that float down from your window only adds fuel to his fire. “Oh, baby, just letting anyone listen to you, if they really wanted to, huh?” Sometimes being vocal is his Achillies heel. He should shut up, especially perving like this, but it’s nearly impossible.

You beg his name, imagining him and Steve refusing again.

“Listen to you beg like a little slut, hmm?” He muses, regretting that there’s nothing for him to clutch on to.

“Eddie, m’ so close…”

“Not yet, doll.” He chides, hoping you’ll play along.

A miracle happens, as if you know exactly what his intentions would be. “Stevie, please?”

“Hmm, don’t you dare, Harrington.” Eddie threatens, and now he really does want to join you.

“Please, I’ve been so good…”

Your insistence, your sweet voice begging for him, God, Eddie’s already so damn close himself. “Let’s hear it, baby.”

The stars align, because from the sounds of your whines that come from your window are just enough for Eddie to spill over his fist, spurts of his cum dripping onto the grass beneath him. From the sounds of it, your orgasm is something that makes your every muscle spasm, the kind that lingers for minutes after. While your mewls, and whines, and whimpers are practically perfect, Eddie really wishes he could get the visuals.

He sees a shadow move; he wonders if you just remembered you have food waiting. He’d better move from your driveway before you realize he’s still there.

On his way to drop off a pizza that is also waiting to be delivered, one he knows he will have to pay for himself after the wait, (worth it), an idea forms in his head that is just too good for him to pass up or call it like it is…insane.

When you feel a repetitive tap on your forearm at lunch the following week, you believe Robin is trying to annoy you. You ignore her, focusing on the novel you’re reading while you shrug her off. At the clearing of someone’s throat, you finally look up.

Oh, shit.

Eddie stands in front of you, hands in his pockets as he nods to the seat right next to you. All you can do is nod, out of breath as he sits in the seat right next to you.

“I’ll uh, just get going.” Robin mutters, shooting you a smirk as she gathers her backpack and takes off.

You shoot daggers at her, anxiously twisting your hands under the table, gulping as your nerves flood your senses.

Eddie rests his jacket leather covered arms on the table, head turned towards you. “Enjoy your pizza?” He asks, a twinkle in his eyes you can’t quite place.

Your brows furrow, confused until it dawns on you. He was the one that delivered it. “Oh…it-it was good.” You smile, sighing nervously.

A lopsided smile takes over Eddie’s face, he watches as the wheels turn in your pretty noggin. Knowing what the confusion meant when they furrow until the realization hits you. It’s a breath of fresh air, really, knowing he didn’t need to worry about rejection, knowing how secretly desperate you are for him.

He nods, licking his lips. “Good, good.” The way you sit nervously, the subtle tensing of your thighs, you’re sweet, amusing, even. “You going to Harrington’s party this Saturday?”

You blink, taking in the sentence. “Huh?”

He chuckles, and the smile on his face is gorgeous. “Harrington. Know him?” You nod, eyes wide. “You going to his party?”

Steve literally invited you the day before, suggesting he might drag you into a closet or something. “Yeah, I am.”

“Wanna go with me?”

Yes. Yes, you do. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. “Sure.” You accept, leaning on your elbow, a shy smile on your face.

“Pick you up at 10?” Somehow, Eddie has the ability to make you feel breathless, and his skin hasn’t even grazed yours yet.

Hopelessly, desperately, you wait for Saturday. Over the week, Eddie has caught your eye across the cafeteria, shooting his cocky grin that continually melts you into a puddle.

That same cocky grin he gives you as he drives over to Steve’s. While Steve knows of your crush on him, he also was aware of how much you like Eddie. Honestly he’s just rooting for you, seeing the excited glint in your eye when you give him the news.

Every little part of you is wondering how it is possible that you might have the choice…when weeks ago you thought you had no possible chance with either of them. There’s a slight part of you wondering…wondering if you’d slipped into an alternate universe where the world is starting to work out in your favor. It feels plausible until you wondered why the hell you’d be going to work or doing homework in your perfect world.

Eddie’s hand rests on your shoulder as you enter, the music blaring from Steve’s living room. A crowd of sweaty teenagers jumping, grinding, dancing, filled to the brim with far too much alcohol. You’d barely said a word to him, stuck in your head as you accepted a red solo cup from him. He makes his own mix, a brown liquid you don’t recognize with some coke. Yours is a vodka-sprite mix, hoping the extra shot you pour will loosen you up a bit.

Or…a lot.

“Dance with me?” He asks, pointing to the living room as he takes a big swig.

You squint at him, already in the middle of taking a big gulp, wincing at the burn. “You dance?”

He shrugs, fingers tapping on the red plastic of his cup. “I do when pretty girls dance with me.”

You take another big gulp, already feeling the effects. What can I say, you are a lightweight. “Better go find one.”

Well, it seems the alcohol is doing its thing.

Eddie’s arm easily wraps around your waist, pulling you up against him. The look in his eye excites you, gulping as his hot breath is on your neck, enticing a shudder. “You little shit.” He mutters, a smug little grin on his face. “I was already asking a pretty girl for your information. I was giving you the privilege of asking, but now you have no choice.”

The cup nearly collides with your nose as he takes another swig, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand easily intertwines with yours as he tosses the cup over his shoulder, tugging you to the living room.

You follow him, hypnotized by his siren’s song. Eddie doesn’t have an inch of patience left in him, already antsy from the show you put on for him. He lets his hands wonder, holding you close to him and going everywhere, your hips, your thighs, your ass, even trailing under your tiny skirt. You don’t protest, inhaling his scent. The mix of body wash, cologne, and just him is mouthwatering.

He doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to from the way you melt in his arms when his lips finally land on yours. The reward of your moan vibrating into his mouth is just what he needs, the very reward he was looking for. You don’t have it in you to pretend you aren’t eager, your lips searching for his as soon as it registers. The kisses are urgent, fervent, and just the right amount of messy.

His knee makes its way between your legs, already mapping how easy it is to make you fall apart, even in the middle of a crowd. And do you ever fold in his arms even at the subtle touch of his hands on your skin, tongue on yours, the adrenaline in your veins… it’s enough to make you forget you’re in a crowd.

When his tongue lands on your throat, sending ripples of pure ecstasy down your spine. The moment he feels you start to grind on his thigh, he has you right where he wants you. His mouth dives into your ear, heated breaths sending a chill through you. “I’ll be right back.”

Confused, you catch his eye, faltering as his knee leaves where it’s stationed.

He winks, walking across the living room, feeling pretty smug at how he feels your eyes on the back of his head.

Now for his plan.

Steve invited a girl over for his party, deciding he’d do exactly what he had insisted he’d do with you. Instead, he’s mesmerized by how you and Eddie are grinding across the way from him. No matter how hard he tries, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the two of you, now wishing you were following through on said plans with him.

When Eddie’s lips met your neck, he feels entirely too restless, forcing himself not to place you in the middle of a sandwich he’d very much like to be a part of.

Now the girl is off with another dude having sought out a different sex buddy when Steve backed out, making out with some jock on his couch. Not that he cares, he’s barely noticed her. He’s far too busy being captivated by you and your date.

Speaking of your date, he attempts to look busy as soon as Eddie starts crossing the room, to where Steve assumed was the bathroom a few feet behind him. Boy, was he wrong. As Steve crowds into the wall, pretending to be staring off towards anywhere else, Eddie stops right next to him, observing Steve with a smirk.

Eddie started keeping track of Steve as soon as he got to the party, keeping mental tabs on him. It wasn’t hard, Steve’s eyes were glued the two of you, and it made Eddie’s plan ten times easier.

“Hi, Harrington.” He smirks, watching Steve’s shallow breathing and shifty eyes. Wasn’t very often he’s seen him lack confidence, and it’s almost too easy to get the two of you to dance how he wanted. “Enjoying the show?”

Steve falters, batting his pretty eyelashes as he processes it. “I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

Eddie rolls his eyes with his arms crossed. It certainly doesn’t help that Eddie had used every one of the tools in his belt. Shown off his arms, put some care into his hair, wore a shirt that was just a little too short for his torso…

As planned, it was working like a charm. “C’mon Steve, those pretty eyes of yours were burning a hole into the back of my head the entire time. Or…were you not watching the way she grinded on my leg?”

Steve’s eyes flicker to you, having now moved back into the kitchen to get another cup of alcohol. His eyes meet Eddie’s again, gulping, not able to find it in himself to deny any further. “Okay, so I was. It’s basically impossible not to.”

Eddie’s smile grows, his teeth just barely peeking through. “Isn’t it?” It really falls into Eddie’s favor that Steve was already against the wall, hand landing right next to his face. “Well, I gotta be honest, from the look on your face it almost looked like you wanted to join us.”

Oh god, is Steve hallucinating, or did Eddie just invite him to do the very thing he so desperately craved? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes again, amused at the hesitance Steve displays. “I’m not. I’m inviting you to one.”

Steve’s breath hitches, Eddie affirming exactly what he was afraid of. “Think she’d be down for that?”

The genuine laughter that leaves Eddie’s lips is a bit startling, to say the least. “I can say, Steve, with 100% certainty, that she would be.”

“Well, shit, Eds.” Steve laughs, already hard from the mere thought of it. “Let’s go get our girl.”

A part of you starts to worry, tipsy as you stare into your drink while sitting next to who you thought was Steve’s date but is all over some football jock. Despite your date being Eddie, you were glad. Your jealousy can start simmering down. You catch Eddie’s jeans ripped at the knee, eyes raking up to his face, noting Steve trailing right behind him.

Eddie ignores your confused face, offering his hand for you to take. Yours lands in his, and it wraps around yours as he effortlessly tugs you up to him. “Come on, we’re going upstairs.” He waits for you to acknowledge Steve standing by you, eyebrow quirking up. “Oh, Steve’s joining us.”

You are not protesting. That's the last thing you'd be doing. If anything, it’s just sudden. All you can do is let out stuttered breaths, attempting to ask how, or why, before getting to the what.

Eddie pretends to falter, brow furrowing as he condescendingly tilts his head. “What, I thought this is what you wanted?”

Okay, how could he possibly know that? “Y-yes, yes, I do, but-but how--?”

“You should probably close your window next time you decide to order food and have a bit of fun, there, sweetheart.” Your eyes shoot open wide, immediately understanding why Eddie approached you when he did. Your window. He leans into Steve, laughter sitting under his voice. “Stevie, should’ve heard her, she was begging for us both, sweet thing had no idea I could hear.”

Steve’s mouth turns into a smirk, watching the many phases your sweet face goes through. “That true? You thinking of us both at the same time?”

By this point, your eyes haven’t even stopped switching between the two men as they leer over you. You wonder how many times this exact scenario has crossed your mind, giving you eyes as they proposition you to be the delicious middle of their sandwich. It’s everything you want, everything you crave.

Then why the fuck is it so damn terrifying?

“You got words, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, catching Steve’s eye, who has his hands on his hips, his eyes curtained by those glorious locks.

No words come to mind, except how fucking wet their gazes make you feel. You let your action speak for itself, turning on the spot to run up the stairs.

You’re halfway up when you hear the thumping of two sets of feet behind you vaguely over the loud music, giggles bubbling up your throat as you turn around the corner down the hall. Not panic, but pure excitement fills your chest as the sounds of footsteps invade the upstairs. A hand grabs yours, yanking you back to the door that Steve opens, his own room.

Sometimes it’s occupied by some random hook ups, he usually tries to lock it for a big party, but honestly if there were someone in his room, he would’ve kicked them out. He’s already hooked up in his mom and dad’s room, as barf inducing as it is, and he refuses to do so on this particular night.

Eddie is right behind you as you enter, hands already making their way under your shirt. He’s eager, his hand hooking under the hem and lifting it over your head and your arms. The cold air meets your skin, gifting it goosebumps. Your shirt hits the floor, you can hear it on Steve’s hardwood. The sound is minor in the grand scheme of things, currently focused on Steve’s lips on yours and Eddie’s hands making their way under the wire of your bra.

Steve’s hands grab at your shoulders, pulling you so you fall on top of him, Eddie giggling as he lands on the two of you. Eddie’s laughs weave with the kisses he scatters along your back, your neck, hands moving absentmindedly as he undoes the backing of your bra.

Under you, Steve’s hands delicately grab the straps of the bra and pull them off your arms. Your bra is flung across the room without a second thought, Steve palming your tits and playing with the nipples between his fingers, twisting and groping them as you mewl into his ear.

Eddie falls sideways onto the bed, the momentum knocking both you and Steve on your sides as well with him. You giggle, starting to grab at the edge of Steve’s shirt to lift over his head. Eddie flips your skirt up, his long fingers touching the fabric over your weeping pussy.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Eddie mumbles, sneaking under the waistband of your panties, touching you softly and moving his finger up and down. “Pretty baby must be turned on, hmm?”

Steve bends down to mouth at your nipples, his silk tongue hot and magical, gently nipping with his teeth in a way that makes your blood sing.

The marvelous mixture of sensation has your head flung back on Eddie’s shoulder, writhing in their holds as they work together. One of Eddie’s fingers slips in, long and deep within you. A loud gasp fills the room as Eddie’s thumb rotates your clit slowly and watches you fall apart.

His finger hooks, working perfectly against your g-spot. “F-fuck!”

Steve licks up the mound of your breast, dirtily licking all the way to your neck, nibbling bruises across your neck. “Gonna cum so quickly, sweets?” Steve asks, teasing you.

“Feels-feels so good!” You whimper, starting to grind helplessly on Eddie’s finger.

Steve’s eyes switch over to Eddie’s, who is already watching him. He grins, eyes switching from the metal-head’s eyes to his lips before licking his own. Both men are pressed against you as they lean in, their lips connecting as you lay in a true sandwich. Wet sounds of their kisses are loud in the room, and from their body language it gets heated fast as Eddie moans behind you, his fingers not resting for a second.

They’re fast and relentless, a heat in your pussy too hot, too much as you’re pushed over the edge like being pushed over a cliff. It hits you hard as you restlessly wither in-between them. Steve’s mouth moves from Eddie’s straight to yours, muffling the moans that leave your mouth.

The loss is sudden as Eddie removes his fingers to pull your skirt down your ass. “You want me to tell Stevie what I heard, or you wanna tell him?”

Your lips freeze against Steve’s, eyes opening, gulping as you back away from him.

“Ooh, I wanna know, what’d you hear, Eds?” Steve asks, getting the hint when Eddie helps move you on to your back.

“Well, from what I could tell she was picturing us watching her play with herself, begging for us to touch her, begging for our cocks, begging to cum…”

Shit, he did hear everything.

“Shit, when was this, honey?”

You bite on your pointer finger nervously as Eddie tugs on your thighs, giggles spilling from your mouth. “Wednesday.”

Steve shakes his head, unbuttoning his jeans as he grins at you, Eddie settling himself between your legs. “Oh, you greedy girl.”

Eddie finishes pulling your skirt down your legs, tossing it over his shoulder as he asks, “Why?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Steve asks, cockily grinning at Eddie as he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing free. “Yeah, she took my cock in the back of Family Video that day, didn’t ya, darlin’?”

Eddie quirks his eyebrow, staring up at you from in-between your legs, grinning intensely. “Oh, you are greedy aren’t ya? Maybe such a greedy girl doesn’t get her wildest fantasies coming true, hmm?”

He’s bluffing, but in your post-orgasm haze you can’t tell at all, you're just desperate for them. You protest it loudly, humming several no’s in a row.

“I dunno, maybe you can watch for tonight and we’ll let you join in another time, hmm?” Eddie taunts you, grabbing Steve’s cock and stroking it, Steve’s moan from final, sweet, relief filling the room.

You’re protesting more, resting on your forearms as you’re hypnotized by the way Eddie’s eyes are locked onto Steve’s. Okay, watching them isn’t all that terrible, but you’re already naked.

Eddie leans in, eyes still trained on Steve as he wraps his mouth around the head of Steve’s cock. You’re hypnotized by it, their constant eye contact creating an energy that is palpable. Eddie’s head tilts back, his tongue that he likes to show off so much at school lingering on Steve’s mushroom tip, reveling in the pearl of precum.

He kisses it, twisting his head to you. “Enjoying the show, sweetheart?”

You nod, grinning manically. “Very much.”

“Maybe we can take pity on her, hey, Eds?” Steve asks, also looking at you.

“Yeah, she can watch another time.” Eddie mumbles, pulling away from Steve to lean in back between your legs. “For now, I need to bury my nose in this sweet little cunt.”

That’s the only warning you get before Eddie’s long tongue slides itself against your wet folds, a hot, wet stripe sending shivers up your spine. You can’t help the whine that leaves your throat, desperate and all too happy to accept it.

Steve saunters over to your mouth, stroking himself as he observes your face. “Think you can be a good girl and take this cock down your throat?” You nod, reaching for him pathetically. You guide his cock to your mouth, the large head pushing into your mouth. His length fills your mouth, pushing right to the back of your throat. “Oh, that’s a good girl.”

A hum leaves your mouth around him, somehow dividing your attention between Steve’s cock in your mouth and Eddie’s tongue on your pussy.

Speaking of Eddie, his tongue has been slowly working, barely putting an ounce of pressure, focused on gathering up any arousal you feed him. His fingers are harsh against your thighs, the friction nearly burning as he grips you tightly. “Fuck, you taste…” he pauses, gasping and greedy, “so sweet.”

Your mouth is busy, too busy to tell Eddie how much he just needs to touch you harder, already. Your hips do it for you, grinding up as a silent question. Simultaneously, your hands move to Steve’s base, playing with his balls. Your mouth makes a wet plop, suddenly in the mood to have them up against your face. Your greedy tongue pokes out to lick at the patched hair that covers them, gasping at the sweaty musk they radiate.

Steve buckles, swearing loudly as his hand lands roughly next to your face. “Oh, my gooood, baby.”

As a reaction, Eddie digs in further, his tongue pushing into you, deliciously long and vibrating into you as he hums. The stench of sweat and your dribble fills your nose, your face slobbered and wet. Eddie places his thumb on your clit, rubbing in small circles as the more you give him, the more he takes.

He knows the smell of pussy, and your smell has driven him completely insane, like a pheromone that overwhelms any logic he once held and replaces it with you.

You gasp, taking Steve’s cock back in your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Steve’s hand curls into your hair, his thumb swaying against your cheek. You can barely focus on it, the overstimulation making that oh-so-funny feeling take over once more, swelling in your stomach.

“You gonna cum again, honey?” Steve asks, his hips moving slowly, yet picking up at an unprecedented rate. You nod around him, his cock hitting and forming a beautiful swell in your cheek, moaning around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little mouth, then we’ll pay attention to Eds over there, hmm? Bet he needs some help, hmm?”

“Might cum from her taste alone, honestly,” Eddie mumbles, working his tongue even faster, even more.

That single sentence does it for you, mouth tightening around Steve as you spill onto Eddie’s tongue, legs tightening around his ears. Steve feels as you moan around him, every part of you tensing, your mouth specifically tightening and pulling sticky ropes that jump down your throat.

It becomes too much, overflowing your mouth and drooling down your chin. Eddie kisses your thigh, lapping up the arousal that spilled to your thighs. Steve pulls out, watching with hooded and hazy eyes as your mouth stays open, tongue poking out covered in him, smiling as when his eyes drift to your throat gulping as he flows down your throat.

“Did I hear you say it was my turn?” Eddie asks, head poking out from between your legs. “Does that mean I get to feel this tight little pussy wrapped around my cock?”

Steve chuckles, his hand still wrapped in your hair. “If I’ve already had a turn, guess it only seems fair.” His thumb swipes across your chin, gathering the excess cum that gathered.

Out of nowhere Eddie pounces, grabbing Steve’s wrist and lapping the sticky substance with his tongue, making a show of it. Well, Eddie is nothing if not a performer.

Steve seems to think his turn is over, turning to the mess of clothes on the floor. “Stevie,” you whine, sitting up. Your legs feel like jelly, grabbing at the shirt on Eddie right next to you. How is Eddie still fully dressed? “Do you have lube?”

“You don’t need lube, sweets, you're soaked.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Not what I meant, Ed.” You look back to Steve. “Hey, stop getting dressed! You got lube, right?”

“Uh…yes.” Steve startles, hands on his hips with his hips, eyebrows furrowed.

How have they not picked up on it yet? “Seriously?” You ask, switching between their confused glances. “Remember how Eddie said you’d make every fantasy come true?” They nod, you move onto your knees, undoing Eddie’s belt, and button quickly. “Well, when I pictured this, I pictured every hole being filled.”

Usually, a sentence like this would make you shy, embarrassingly so. However, the collective stare the two men give you is mind numbingly arousing.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, sharing a bewildered look with Steve. “Well, go get the damn lube, Steve!”

Steve chuckles, moseying to the bedside table and grabbing a small bottle.

Your hands, frozen on Eddie’s half undone jeans, finally start moving again, pulling down his jeans and underpants. His cock springs out, the head an angry red. You lean forward, extending your legs backward as you lean forward to accept Eddie in the back of your throat.

Steve comes from behind him, lifting the loose black shirt he wears over his head, sprinkling kisses along Eddie’s skin.

Eddie groans, lifting his head up. “Fuck, ok, get up, need to feel that pussy right now.”

You smirk, getting off Eddie with a pop, standing up on weak legs. Eddie pulls you right against him, wrapping your lips in a sweet kiss. His tongue wastes no time to reach out to touch yours, connecting wonderfully. Eddie turns the two of you around, kicking off his jeans and stumbling over them. He falls backward onto the bed, you falling onto him and giggling like a madman.

A hand wraps around your cheeks, squishing them comically and pulling your face upward. “Kiss me, honey.”

You grin, locking lips with Steve as your body hitches up toward him. A pair of hands plant you back down, bare pussy connecting with Eddie’s gorgeous cock. The sensation makes you whine, thighs tensing around Eddies. Your hips grind helplessly, hoping it pushes him in. “Patience, sweets.”

You whine impatiently, petulantly groaning against Steve’s lips. You part from him, staring down at Eddie. “Stop teasing me, and—” your sentence cuts short, Eddie grinning in satisfaction as he shuts you up. A hushed swear leaves your throat, elongated and stuttered on the sh in shit.

Your impatience is the size of a teaspoon, hips rutting down to take more of him quicker, even though he’s at a size where you know you should take your time. “Take your time,” Eddie tuts, wrapping his hand in your hair.

“I can’t.” You whine, trying to pull him in more.

Impossibly, you manage to take in Eddie’s full length faster than you know you should. It’s still not fast enough.

A second pair of hands land on your ass, grabbing at the apples of your cheeks with harsh nails digging into the soft skin. Eddie’s hands are on your hips, fingertips under the edge of Steve’s. A cold, thick liquid lands where it needs to, a finger pushes it in, a mighty pressure added to the mix.

You whine, bucking into them and grinding on Eddie’s cock simultaneously. A mix of sounds ring out, Eddie moaning, Steve chuckling, you breathlessly gasping. “Fuck.”

Steve adds another finger, twisting and playing, watching how both your holes spasm together, how Eddie’s cock starts to move for you when your hips are jerking too much to really do anything.

Eddie gasps into your ear, groaning and border-line whimpering. “F-fuck, feel this tight fucking pussy…Jesus, Harrington, you planned on keeping this to yourself?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away, inserting a third finger and grinning at your high-pitched reaction. “With how good it feels, can you fucking blame me?”

“How many times you pictured fucking me, sweets? Good as you thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, voice guttural.

“S-s-s-so much better,” you stutter, whining in the crook of his neck.

Over your shoulder, Steve winks at Eddie, and it gives Eddie the warning to pause his movements to allow Steve to enter. The pressure of the head against the hole is so good. “Fuck,” you whimper, gasping desperately.

If there’s anything you’re willing to admit, it’s that you never knew you could feel this good, this full, it’s a shame it took this long, really. The stupid part is, Steve isn’t even halfway in. Your jaw drops, hands tensing and curling and toes twitching, so many little muscles moving instantaneously.

“You okay, sweets?” Eddie asks, whispering sweetly as your gasping grows in both depth and volume. You frantically nod, the sweat fierce and intense.

“More.” You beg, the only word that can possibly make sense to you.

However small, however faint, Steve heard the plea and pushed in more. Your jaw drops, leaning onto Eddie’s bare chest with your elbows and staring at Eddie’s darkened, brown eyes. He’s pretty, too pretty.

You adjust, and yeah, lube definitely needs to be used in this bullshit, it makes it feel so much better. “More,” you whimper, twisting your body to look back at Steve to see his reaction as he pushes in one last time.

The awkward twist of the body is worth it to see how his jaw drops and eyes close, followed by his head falling back in bliss. “Fuck, both your tight little holes are so good, honey.”

“What a good girl you are, love, god you take cock so well,” Eddie compliments you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Steve’s strong hand sways across your ass, caressing it fiercely. “Like she was made to, isn’t it,” he adds, hunching over your build to kiss the bare skin.

Your toes are curled, your whole-body tense, eyes closed as you lie in the sandwich that contains the three of you. Good. God, it’s good. The goodness that it is starts to trail down your cheeks, trailing off your chin. “Good,” you whimper, trying to look at both of them at once. “G-good. Move. Move,” you act restlessly, hands moving without a destination in mind, hips bucking anxiously with no such success.

They work in tandem, their hips synchronously moving together, both rolling their hips perfectly. Steve twists his arm around your torso, extending as he wraps his hand around your neck, fingers beautifully spread, choking the little air you have out of your lungs. Eddie stares up at your face in awe, holding your hips fiercely while his hips buck up.

Steve’s hand awkwardly spiders up your jaw, letting go of your neck to hook a thumb in your mouth and rest his fingers on your chin.

As a reflex, you start to suck on it. “What a pretty slut we have, hey, Stevie?” Eddie asks, admiring your pretty mouth wrapped around Steve’s thumb.

“Thirsting over her little holes being filled, taking it so well, fucking right, she is.” Steve agrees. He yanks his thumb out, using the same hand to lightly slap your ass.

You moan, loud and stuttered, and guttural at the sting of pain that just adds more to the pleasure. “Fuck!” Steve chuckles doing it again, harsher this time.

Eddie’s arms wrap around you, pulling your tits against his chest. He pulls you in for a kiss, dirty, and filled with spit. Steve slaps another time, harder than the others, you yell into Eddie’s mouth as a direct response. Your lips stutter off Eddie, whining desperately at the marvel.

“Whore.” You whine out, desperate.

“Oh, she wants to be called a whore, does she? Well she certainly earned it, didn’t she?” Eddie mocks, voice only a little bit strained. Eddie surges forward, slapping your ass harshly, igniting a yelp from you from the unexpected sting. “Sorry, Stevie, I wanted in on the fun.”

Steve grunts out a moan, “Of course, after all, our whore loves it, doesn’t she?”

They start to move faster, Eddie’s hips more jagged, Steve’s hips in a rolling pattern, both cocks fucking you in a way that is simply too good to be true.

That seemed to be the common theme for the night, good. While fantastic, amazing, wonderful, beautiful, are much better synonyms, good is the only word simple enough to reach your brain. Maybe the stream of tears trailing down your face are stealing the strong words from your vocabulary, maybe it’s the cocky look that sits on both their faces. Maybe it’s the wandering hands.

“Gonna cum.”

“Oh, make a mess for us, sweetheart.” Eddie commands, planting wet lips all along your jaw, neck, shoulder, anywhere he can reach.

Steve slips his hand around your thigh, placing two fingers on your clit. “Wanna feel this tight little hole as you cum, yeah? Gonna see our baby make another fucking mess.”

The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming every nerve you have. Gasps leave your throat, high pitched and too much. “Cum all over me, baby.”

A feeling you’ve never had, a high you’ve never reached, comes into play, forcing you to push something you didn’t know you could. “Oh, I’m gonna—”

A gush overwhelms the heavy breaths that are coming from both Eddie and Steve. Your vision is flooded with stars, writhing in their collective hold.

It takes you a minute to recover from it, both men’s hips slowly bucking in, slowly hips rolling and swaying. You still look like you need time when you choke out, “Fuck me! Fill me up, please, please, please?”

“Of course, whatever the pretty girl wants.” Steve mutters, hands gripping onto your hips as he fucks into you, matching the relentless pace Eddie was already at.

“Jus’ like that, jus’ like that~”

“Oh fuck, keep begging like that, honey.” Steve encourages you, grabbing harshly against your scalp.

“You better be as close as I am, Harrington, or this will be embarrassing.” Eddie warns, only half joking with how desperate his moans sounded.

“Fill her up with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Eddie answers, grinning manically. “J-j-jesus christ!”

The symphony of moans as they fill you up in both holes is music to your ears, something you never thought you’d hear. You do your best to memorize every note, every consonant, every vowel, to commit it to memory.

The world freezes as three sets of lungs attempt to catch their breath. Hands gracing over any skin they can touch for a gentle caress. Caresses lead into kisses on skin, wet and comforting in the best way.

You can’t tell how much time passes as the three of you fall over into a three way spoon, cocks still keeping you good and full.

“Did so good, honey.” Steve praises, petting your hair and skin.

“Good girl, such a good girl for us.” Eddie adds, unable to help his hand fluttering over to Steve’s hair, as well.

Your gasps turn from whimpers to hums, accepting every whisper of appraisal with an overly satisfied grin sitting on your face. They pull themselves out eventually, you moan at the loss as your spaghetti limbs sprawl on the bed. “Gonna grab you some water, honey,” Steve whispers, planting a kiss in your hair.

“You need a bath, sweetheart? I know for a fact it fits the three of us down the hall.” Eddie asks right after him, yanking a pair of his jeans on.

You nod, head feeling heavy on your neck.

Eddie scoops you up in his arms, carrying you down the hall. As the tub fills with hot, soapy water, Steve comes back up the steps with a cold glass of water to the bathroom. “Drink up.”

In Steve’s corner tub, you sit on Eddie’s lap, arms wrapped around him absentmindedly as Steve climbs in across the two of you. They spend their time washing your body, the hot water, and bubbles soothing and gentle as ever. It feels so good, so nice, it hurts to think it will end soon.

Your hormones must’ve been wild, because the tears fall down your face as you start to think about how badly you don’t want this to end. They’re worried, asking what’s wrong as they worriedly reach one another’s eyes. “’M selfish.”

“Why you selfish, sweets?” Eddie asks, tilting your chin up to him.

“Cause…cause I don’t want this to end…having both of you...it’s too good.”

Eddie and Steve share a glance, the both of them knew from the start it wasn’t just a one-time thing. “Who said this was going to end?” Attempting to reach your eyes with his.

“What?” You ask, a beautiful flicker of hope in you.

Eddie’s arms tighten around you, hand reaching in to kiss your cheek. “It’s nowhere near over, baby.”

“You’re too good for us to let you go, honey.”

“Really?” You ask, now a tad skeptical. “You’re going to let me be selfish enough to have both of you?”

“Please.” Steve chuckles, eyebrow furrowing at the crash down the stairs. “If anything, we’re the selfish ones, honey.”

Selfish.

On a regular day, it’s hard not to feel completely selfish. But when there’s two enticing and captivating voices telling you that’s not possible, you forget the word even exists.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n

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